In Defense of Hell Part 5 (to continue)

Have you ever heard the name, Danny Dolo? No? Maybe? Well, I know that blind son-of-a-b***h; and I can guarantee you, there isn’t a guy who knows more about robbing the dopes than he does; and, I mean, talk about taking care of his crew! That guy practically invented it. At one time, he was sort of like the alpha stud of the biggest theft operation in the Garden and had connections all over the place. He was the bad boy that worked it out with a whole army of worm-makers, so he could rob what was thought to be about the richest beehive there ever was. In fact, Danny did such a bad-a*s job as a robber, everybody wanted him to take over the entire Ruins Hill syndicate, but he had to let the offer slide because he was like 90 years old at the time and had always been more into the actual robbing and s**t. But no kidding chief, a pretty good slice of the Garden was made unbelievably attractive because of his legacy, and even the holy rollers felt obliged to entomb his lousy body at St. Sophia’s, which is about the most beautiful cathedral in the whole damn Garden.

 

Anyway, Danny’s a very interesting guy, and I do know him. He's a very funny guy, too: He sometimes sings this crazy-a*s song he calls “Rockin’ Robber” just to amuse the s**t out of us. I guess you'd have to be there because Danny has a very high-pitched voice and crosses his gigantic dead eyeballs in this hilariously stupid way when he does that shtick. He's the kind of loud-mouthed insect I’ve always sort of looked up to. I'm a little surprised you never heard of him, though. I mean, the son-of-a-b***h is a real legend, at least down here, and that’s where a reputation like his matters the most.

 

Now, another thing I think is sweet about hell is that luck or chance or whatever isn't too much of an influence on things; I mean, I don't have an ax to grind against chance or anything, because back in my Garden days I was just about the luckiest lowlife you were ever going to know. My luck was what you might call uncanny. For example, I could always pick winners at the races, and I almost never got the blame from a boss when I screwed up something. I know that more than chance is involved in that one, but luck still has a lot to do with who gets hurt and who doesn’t. You know those church bingo deals they sometimes do to feed the retards or whatever? I won a big one once; something like the biggest of all time as far as the Ruins Hill parish is concerned. I mean, I didn’t really win it, I sort of just took it, but to me, it was better than winning it, even though I got apprehended and did some hard time, too.

 

Looking back on that fiasco, it might have been a major turning point in my life because the whole thing was totally unnecessary and pretty stupid. Like I mentioned, I am phenomenally lucky and probably could have come out on top that evening without going bad-a*s and s**t. Still, I do like things to be a little in my favor, so things started out as just a normal evening of cheating the dopes. But everything suddenly morphed into like the biggest damn lollapalooza heist I ever did. You see, there was this messed-up cockroach named Father Judas Divine who worked it out, so I could be the caller that evening. You get the picture.

 

But things just spun out of control right away because I got so crazy impatient and just grabbed what cash I could and sort of ran out the door; and, I mean, I ran like a bad-a*s football guy plowing through a line of flimsy card tables. I guess this one old b***h ended up with a nasty head injury because she couldn’t get the hell out of the way - Completely unintentional on my part, and yet I got charged for that, too! That’s pretty messed up when you consider that Father Divine got off scot-free, even though everybody knew he was crooked and had molested maybe a million Catholic schoolboys in Ruins Hill. And, believe me, everything that dingus ever did was intentional. But I guess you can't always choose who you work with.