The legend of Donnie Orado

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
An aspiring criminal tells his tale to a group of hardened gangsters. I did this a while ago, so it may be a bit juvenile, just some old work I'm uploading

Submitted: December 01, 2011

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Submitted: December 01, 2011

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People sometimes look for the right clothing and the right ways to look good, Donnie Orado didn’t have that problem. You see he had simplicity at its finest, black suit on body, black tie on neck, sunglasses on face, cigarette in mouth and a gun down the back of his trousers. His clothes were boring yet unusual they show that he could be somewhat interesting, somewhat mysterious and somewhat dangerous. He had figured it out when he was four and now at the age of twenty-two he had executed it.

“So we’re in the car outside of the building, the black dude with his red hoodie is carrying a sub-machine gun an MPS the ones SWAT teams use but the rest of us all have revolvers, ask me why Bobby.” Donnie Orado said to the three guys at the bar table, two of them were black and the other one was some white kid who came from Redwood city. “Why?” Bobby asked (he was one of the black guys). “Because our job was to go in, get a bag full of coke and get out.” Donnie said pausing momentarily for his words to sink in. “So we brought the revolvers ‘coz they’re ******* scary, no one wants a hand cannon unloaded in their face, with pistols we could have probably popped all the guys inside, I mean there was four of us and six of them inside so we could’ve taken ‘em by surprise but we don’t want a massacre, we wanna make ‘em piss themselves by looking at our hand cannons.” Donnie said.  “Wait, couldn’t you just go in there with shotguns, there way more intimidating. I saw a guy get his face shot up with a New Haven 600, his face was literally a jigsaw puzzle, now that **** is scary.” The white kid from Redwood city said.“Well, Jimmy you don’t get too much flexibility with a shotgun, I guess you don’t get much with a revolver either but a revolver’ll still always be more flexible than a shotgun.”  Donnie replied sounding extremely well spoken.   “Well you could just use a sawed-off shottie those are flexible and freaky as ****.” The black guy who wasn’t Bobby said. “Yeah, but those are still heavier than revolvers and revolvers are heavy enough, anyways let me get back to my story, so we go in all four of us after kicking the door open and we see a couple of guys on the couch watching television, one of ‘em reached for a ******* gun so I shot him in the head, one of the other guys who came along, I think he was half black half Italian American you might know him actually his names Stevie Sinclair?” Donnie asked. “Oh yeah he’s one of ‘em Mafia cats ain’t he?” Bobby asked. “No, you’re just saying that ‘coz he’s half Italian Not all of ‘em are in the mafia, I mean those Mafia guys are smart but they all act like they’ve got lead up their asses. I mean they have all these unnecessary rules, you know those bitches can't grow mustaches, you don't mess with a stash now do you.” Donnie said to Bobby as he straightened his tie. “Anyways, let me get back to the story, so Stevie’s asking the guy where his friends are and the guy says their upstairs so me and the black guy with the sub-machine gun go upstairs and search all the rooms while Stevie and Kyle wait with the other guy downstairs.  And when we get to the bathroom we see that the windows open and we see two guys in his boxers running away, so we let them go ‘coz they doesn’t have the bag. Now me and the black guy go down the hall and some junkie comes out of nowhere with a pistol and caps the black in the knee so Stevie runs upstairs but by the time he gets there he sees the junkie ripped apart by bullets, so I take the junkies pistol and we go downstairs to find Kyle beating the other guy senseless with the butt of his revolver, screaming where’s the coke, and the other guy says that his other friend got rid of it yesterday.” Donnie said grinning. “Wait so you did all that for nothing?” Jimmy said laughing. “Yeah, pretty much.” Donnie replied as well.  “Wait, you’re a white kid in a cheap suit, and your expecting me to believe you did a job like that?” Bobby said. “Our mutual friend said I should hire you ‘coz you burglarize houses.” Bobby continued. “You’re thinking I can’t kill someone aren’t you?” Donnie said pulling a berretta out of his suit jacket and then pointed it at Bobby’s head. “Hey, watch where you point that man!” Jimmy said whispering loudly. “It’s easy, BANG BANG CHOO CHOO train, that’s all there is to it and then all three of you’ll be dead.” Donnie said mockingly. “Well, you gotta consider the five other guys in the bar they’re all armed and we are too, and this is not counting the bartender that would make it you against nine other guys.” Bobby said as he slouched back in his chair. “Well then I’ll need more firepower.” Donnie said as he took another berretta out of his jacket. “I can shoot with two hands, nothing to it.” Donnie said as he brought the devil into his eyes. “You won’t do that, kid.”

Donnie did it.

It was when Sam Burkely was nine when he first saw Stevie Sinclair an eighteen year old kid from the red light district. It was fascinating because he lived in the suburbs but his school was in the city, and that one fine day he looked from the fence and saw Stevie passing a packet full of pot to some hippie bastard, god that bastard was so skinny his hair reaching his waist and his long shirt hanging off his bones. The hippie said something so Stevie moved his denim jacket far enough to show a gun the size of a nine year olds head. The hippie tried to run so Stevie shot his bony leg, and before Stevie ran Sam could have sworn Stevie winked at him. The teachers went crazed and tried to bring Sam back to the building but Sam didn’t move. Why? Because he wanted a gun just like Stevie Sinclair had.


© Copyright 2017 aurko maitra. All rights reserved.

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