“Put your hand in your pocket like you have a gun,” Michael Corleone told Enzo the Baker, reaching over to flip up Enzo’s collar like a button man’s. “Don’t be scared.”
Slowly, a sedan pulled up in front of the hospital. “Hey,” the driver said, squinting out the window, “Isn’t that the Don’s kid? The wuss who doesn’t want be in the family business?”
“Yeah,” said the backseat passenger, “But who’s that with him?”
“Ummmm… hey! That’s Enzo the Baker! Aww, look at him playing gangster!”
“Jesus Christ! Does he have a gun?”
“Who? The yeast-huffing wuss, or his ‘My daddy’s a meanie’-whimpering asshole buddy?”
Gunfire erupted from the sedan, and Michael and Enzo went down in a hail of Thompson fire.
————————–
“I’m done talking about it, counsellor!” Sonny Corleone shouted around a mouthful of sausage and peppers, “We’re going to the mattresses, and we’re taking out that son-of-a-bitch Sollozzo!”
“I hope that’s not your final answer on this, Sonny,” Tom Hagen said evenly.
“My final answer? Fucking right it’s my final answer! That fucker hit us too hard to ignore! We’re going to war, and business be damned!”
“Sorry, Sonny,” Clemenza said, “But that’s not going to happen. My soldiers have certain expectations about what’s involved in working for the family, and going broke so you can go on some vendetta ain’t one of them.”
“But… I’m Sonny Corleone! My father built this family!”
“Yeah, he did, but The Don’s in a coma after that last bullet. And as caporegimes, the guys who really rally the troops, we’ve decided which Corleone we want running things.”
The door opened. “Hi, fellas!” Fredo said chipperly, “Boy, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you think I’d make as good a Don as my pop! I’m really looking forward to – ”
“Shut the fuck up and wait outside until we call you, Fredo. We’re working in here.”
Fredo stepped outside. “You want Fredo to be in charge? Jesus Christ, Tessio; the fucking kid’s been on the front lines once, and he dropped his gun and ran like a fucking girl the minute the shooting started! The only bones he’s made were the ones he stuck in cocktail waitresses dumb enough to believe he was Joey Bishop!”
“Yeah, but the kid has two qualities that the soldiers want. First: he’s got the Corleone name.”
“What’s second?”
“Hey guys,” Fredo called through the door, “You think I should have a drink or listen to the radio while I’m waiting for you?”
“Why don’t you do both, Fredo?” Tessio called.
“Oh, boy! It’s great to be the Don!”
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