Mr. Brown and Frankie chat about one of their greatest fears.


Late night at a quiet Mafia Bar


Before Frankie's promotion.


  • Mr. Brown “Have you heard of the Morris dancers, Frankie?”
  • Frankie “Oh god. Are you kidding me?”
  • Mr. Brown “I can assure you one thing. The Morris dancers is no story, they are real.”
  • Frankie shudders. “Brown. Brown... you.... you really don't gotta tell me.” He goes pale “ ...we never even could find the guy's head.... but his organs….” Frankie shivers. He‘ll not speak of these matters.
  • Mr. Brown “I was tailing a chap, 20 paces behind, you know the deal. He went down Devil's Alley. There was the ferocious sound of bells, then a silence that burned. I took a quick look down the alley and there he was. Intestines wrapped around a maypole and covered in deep cuts. I did the only thing I could do. Run. It was a lucky night for me.”
  • Frankie's face goes pale and he makes the sign of the cross. “…How bout I buy ya a drink, Brown.”
  • Mr. Brown “Make it two.”
  • Frankie “Yea... yea.” Frankie orders four of the fuckin tallest, stiffest drinks the place has and tries not to imagine maypoles or bells.
  • Mr. Brown downs it.
  • Frankie “…They say, sometimes.... sometimes, they leave one person alive… make em watch...” Frankie shudders and drinks.