Revision of an earlier creative writing for a presentation of learning
POL Revision
Original Piece
I’ve done many things in my life. Most would call the things I've done ungodly. But what I do, I do for family. In my line of work, frailty is a sign of weakness. I offer protection, mostly in my neighborhood. From protecting kids on the their way back from school, to taking care of a pervert. That’s the part of my job where my immoderation is an asset. Unfortunately, getting my hands dirty is something I do more often then I would like, and when I do, indolent actions are something I try to avoid. I also oversee all the drug transit of the area. Heroin, coke, the good stuff.
The price of goin’ against me... amputations. Then I throw the no good bastards in a burrow, where the only thing to eat is their freakin’ dirty little arms and legs. Eventually, they starve to death. They're placed in plain sight, as a constant reminder of what happens when you cross me.
What I do, I do for family.
I’ve done many things in my life. Most would call the things I've done ungodly. But what I do, I do for family. In my line of work, frailty is a sign of weakness. I offer protection, mostly in my neighborhood. From protecting kids on the their way back from school, to taking care of a pervert. That’s the part of my job where my immoderation is an asset. Unfortunately, getting my hands dirty is something I do more often then I would like, and when I do, indolent actions are something I try to avoid. I also oversee all the drug transit of the area. Heroin, coke, the good stuff.
The price of goin’ against me... amputations. Then I throw the no good bastards in a burrow, where the only thing to eat is their freakin’ dirty little arms and legs. Eventually, they starve to death. They're placed in plain sight, as a constant reminder of what happens when you cross me.
What I do, I do for family.
Revised Piece
I do the things I do to protect the ones I love. Thats the only thing that goes through my head while I walk down this cold corridor. I get to the door, before I go in I take a moment to recollect myself. I close my eyes and put myself in a state of violent tranquility. Calm, collected but ready to do what I must in an immoderate and necessary way. I open my eyes, put on my gloves and step through the door. The room was dark, the only light coming from a suspended single bulb light in the center of the room. There under the light was the bastard, the snitch, sitting in a chair gagged, bag over his head, tied to the arm rests. To my right is Luigi and on the other side of the room is Mattia. Without saying a word Luigi hands me the bat and I make my way over to the kid and take off the bag. He looks confused, like deer staring at headlights. Then he recognized me, a certain fear took over his eyes. Then I knew it was him.
“Good afternoon Mr…” I said while removing the gag from his mouth.
“Ricky. Just call me Ricky.” He said in a heavy accent.
“Well, Mr. Ricky, I have reason to believe you recently made a trip down to our local law enforcement office and told the sheriff about a certain Mr. Paolo Acerbi. And if i’m not mistaken you might’ve mentioned homicide, drugs and alcohol; and last time I checked Mr. Acerbi didn’t like those things mentioned to anyone.
“Mr. Acerbi, Paolo, I was put up to it...Please don’t kill me.”
“Me!?! Why I would never do such a thing. Just like I would never protect your family, or take out the crime on the street. No, no, no; I would never.”
And then, I hit him. And I hit him again, and again, and again, and again, and again. You could hear him breaking every time I made contact. The screams, the blood, the odd “thump” whenever I made contact. And I just kept going, and going, and going, and going. And every time there was a little more blood and his screams got a little bit louder, but I just kept going and going until the bat broke. When I stopped all I could see was the red going down a drain in the floor and the only sound was the whimpering and gasps of air coming from what was Ricky. I dropped the useless piece of wood on him, took off my gloves and dropped them to the ground. “Burn it.” As I walked out all I could hear were his screams and Luigi pouring the gasoline, then I heard Mattia light the match.
Frailty is something that happens to anyone, it is as inevitable as is death. But in what I do frailty is something you must burrow deep inside and never let yourself become indolent enough to have even the slightest hint of it show. If it does, then you’re dead. You mess up a clean up or screw up a job and you get busted with the heroin in one hand and the money in the other. Thats why you have to run an operation that is fail-safe and runs as smoothly as a possible. Thats what I have, a smooth operation that ensures the safety and protection of the most important part of the best city in the world. Little Italy, MY little Italy. This is all I could think of as I went home, as I walked the street of this beloved city, as I entered my apartment and began to wash the blood from my hands. I don’t like what I do sometimes, it hurts to see the bastards that try to hurt my people suffer; but then I remember what and who I do it for. And that’s what gets me through the beatings, the amputations, the torture. I do what I must for the protection of my people, I have been for forty years.
I dried my hands and before I went to bed I stepped out on my balcony to see the beauty that is the safety I provide, and after a glass of wine I turned to go inside and that was when I heard the shot. At first I felt nothing, then I felt cold. I felt a chill running down my side and when I looked down, I saw the blood. “Sorry Paolo.” And with that I felt a push and I fell over the balcony and as soon as I felt the ground, everything went dark.
I do the things I do to protect the ones I love. Thats the only thing that goes through my head while I walk down this cold corridor. I get to the door, before I go in I take a moment to recollect myself. I close my eyes and put myself in a state of violent tranquility. Calm, collected but ready to do what I must in an immoderate and necessary way. I open my eyes, put on my gloves and step through the door. The room was dark, the only light coming from a suspended single bulb light in the center of the room. There under the light was the bastard, the snitch, sitting in a chair gagged, bag over his head, tied to the arm rests. To my right is Luigi and on the other side of the room is Mattia. Without saying a word Luigi hands me the bat and I make my way over to the kid and take off the bag. He looks confused, like deer staring at headlights. Then he recognized me, a certain fear took over his eyes. Then I knew it was him.
“Good afternoon Mr…” I said while removing the gag from his mouth.
“Ricky. Just call me Ricky.” He said in a heavy accent.
“Well, Mr. Ricky, I have reason to believe you recently made a trip down to our local law enforcement office and told the sheriff about a certain Mr. Paolo Acerbi. And if i’m not mistaken you might’ve mentioned homicide, drugs and alcohol; and last time I checked Mr. Acerbi didn’t like those things mentioned to anyone.
“Mr. Acerbi, Paolo, I was put up to it...Please don’t kill me.”
“Me!?! Why I would never do such a thing. Just like I would never protect your family, or take out the crime on the street. No, no, no; I would never.”
And then, I hit him. And I hit him again, and again, and again, and again, and again. You could hear him breaking every time I made contact. The screams, the blood, the odd “thump” whenever I made contact. And I just kept going, and going, and going, and going. And every time there was a little more blood and his screams got a little bit louder, but I just kept going and going until the bat broke. When I stopped all I could see was the red going down a drain in the floor and the only sound was the whimpering and gasps of air coming from what was Ricky. I dropped the useless piece of wood on him, took off my gloves and dropped them to the ground. “Burn it.” As I walked out all I could hear were his screams and Luigi pouring the gasoline, then I heard Mattia light the match.
Frailty is something that happens to anyone, it is as inevitable as is death. But in what I do frailty is something you must burrow deep inside and never let yourself become indolent enough to have even the slightest hint of it show. If it does, then you’re dead. You mess up a clean up or screw up a job and you get busted with the heroin in one hand and the money in the other. Thats why you have to run an operation that is fail-safe and runs as smoothly as a possible. Thats what I have, a smooth operation that ensures the safety and protection of the most important part of the best city in the world. Little Italy, MY little Italy. This is all I could think of as I went home, as I walked the street of this beloved city, as I entered my apartment and began to wash the blood from my hands. I don’t like what I do sometimes, it hurts to see the bastards that try to hurt my people suffer; but then I remember what and who I do it for. And that’s what gets me through the beatings, the amputations, the torture. I do what I must for the protection of my people, I have been for forty years.
I dried my hands and before I went to bed I stepped out on my balcony to see the beauty that is the safety I provide, and after a glass of wine I turned to go inside and that was when I heard the shot. At first I felt nothing, then I felt cold. I felt a chill running down my side and when I looked down, I saw the blood. “Sorry Paolo.” And with that I felt a push and I fell over the balcony and as soon as I felt the ground, everything went dark.