Novelltråden

[Tija]

Varför skulle jag inte ha MVG i svenska?

Det var mörkt och regnade till råga på allt.

När han till slut kom fram till skolan och skulle gå in slet någon tag i hans axel och slet honom runt hörnet på byggnaden.

"...till råga på allt.

När han..."

Jag ser tyvärr inget talstreck.

[kebabkurt]

Du kan inte ha MVG i svenska! Han gör inte en ny rad per mening. För att kunna få VG borde man veta att det ska vara ny rad vid talstreck, precis som han gjort i sin novell. Har jag uppfattat dig fel, så får du förklara dig.

Tija MVG i svenska? Aldrig. Fast tjejer har ju lättare att få bra betyg, tyvärr.

I alla fall i svenska.

[Tackleberry]

Varför skulle jag inte ha MVG i svenska?

"...till råga på allt.

När han..."

Jag ser tyvärr inget talstreck.

Du skrev:

Jag menar, du gör en ny rad för varje mening... Suck...

Betyder det att du egentligen menade att han gör en ny rad för någon mening ibland? Du skrev klart och tydligt "för varje mening", vilket absolut inte stämmer.

Du kan kanske ha MVG i svenska, men aldrig om du inte vet att det ska vara ny rad vid talstreck. Det var så jag uppfattade det.

EDIT + off-topic:

Jag tycker det är synd att vissa lärare har uppfattat betygen fel. Jag menar, alla ska inte kunna få MVG. Jag tycker att för MVG ska det krävas "det lilla extra".

Ett exempel på den negativa effekten av fel betyg:

I Tyska fick jag MVG och tyckte det var jättelätt på högstadiet. Nu har jag mer problem och är närmare G än MVG, men jag ligger på ett stadigt VG.

I Svenska fick vi slita hårt på högstadiet och hade mycket läxor. Då fick jag ett VG, men ett starkt sådant. Nu gymnasiet ligger jag på MVG och tycker det mesta är lätt. Det kan jag tacka min gamla svenska lärare för. Han lärde oss mycket, men främst lärde han oss att jobba.

@Tija: Vill rätta dig med en sak. Man behöver vara bra på att skriva noveller för att få MVG i svenska, iaf enligt mig och mina lärare.

Redigerad 15 april, 2005 av Tackleberry

[vinnecool]

Att min "novell" har flera fel i sig, beror på (vilket jag redan förklarat) att jag absoult inte skrev den särskilt proffesionellt eller genomtänkt. Jag skrev den på lite dryga tjugo minuter, och skummade ärligt talat bara genom den. Har inte ens läst genom den nu.

MVG i svenska kräver att man är synnerligen aktiv och intresserad av ämnet. (man måste naturligtvis vara bra på stavning och liknande saker som jag inte orkar skriva upp)

Får tråden återgå till det den skapades för nu?

Redigerad 15 april, 2005 av vinnecool

[Everest]

Har vunnit en novelltävling i skolan, kom tvåa förra året, kan kanske lägga upp den sen..

[okka]

Fick MVG på nationella skrivdelen...kuuuul.

Även MVG i slutbetyg, kuuul.

[Crice]

En liten sak på engelska:

Tropican Rebirth

____________________________

____________________________

Characters Involved:

- Rocco Luccino [DiMartino Family Boss]

- Lorenzo D'Immorate [The Tropicana Hotel & Casino Representative]

- Vincenzo Terraglia [Casino Manager]

- Francesco Terraglia [Vincenzo Terraglia's lawyer and son]

- Genco Amarante [Rocco Luccino's lawyer]

- James Westhaven [Francesco Terraglia's law firm associate]

____________________________

The Ruby Eyes Social Club, Bensonhurst, 3rd April, 01:03 PM:

The sun shone over the relatively empty Brooklyn street, and few cars rolled along the otherwise so very crowded street. The summer was coming to New York City, and apparently, few used auto-mobiles in these beautiful times. As usual, sweet Italian mandoline music came from The Ruby Eyes Social Club, and several wiseguys were coming in and out of it. Many handshakes were made outside the club, and many backs were patted. It was no surprise that the DiMartino boss himself showed up this afternoon, it had been discussed way back, and the wiseguys had been waiting for it to happen all day. Even though the boss was not an old-fashion kind of man, letting the wiseguys stand outside the club if he was inside, everyone respected him, and when he arrived, the men all kissed his pinkie ring and shook his hand, greeting him with the words, "Don Luccino", or "Boss". It was only outside however, inside, the more established DiMartino guys were seated. The guys who had been running with the same Family since the late '70s and still were up and running. They were the men who did not greet the DiMartino boss, but were greeted by him. Rocco walked up to the most essential of the men and shook their hands, exchanged a few words or even kissed their cheeks. As he was done, Rocco sat down by one of the more secluded tables, and awaited his contact person. He had come alone today, he even drove the car himself, which was very unusual for the boss. The men from outside began to stroll into the club, and Rocco watched them from behind a glass of wine and a cigar. In reality, he hated these guys, they were all young turks with bad antics, but on the contrary, he was friendly towards them. After all, that was the key to success. If you hate someone, shower him with love. That way, he'll depend on you, and he will reveal his mistakes to you. That allows you to beat him senseless when he fucks up. Such was the theory of Don Rocco Luccino, and he smirked at his own thoughts as he suddenly was awoken by the opening door of the club. Finally, his contact person from Las Vegas itself had arrived. The elderly DiMartino Don flew up from his seat and walked over to the man, shaking his hand as they met.

Rocco: Rocky Luccino.

Lorenzo: Lorenzo D'Immorate, pleasure.

Rocco: The pleasure is all mine...

With a gesture of his hand, Rocco indicated for Lorenzo D'Immorate to enter his private part of the club, located in the back, and the slender young man did so, smiling as his Gucci shoes crossed the floor to the door leading to the back of the club. The door swung open, and Rocco was close behind Lorenzo as the two men entered Rocco Luccino's office. It was not a very luxurious office, but it was more than enough for the business done on the Brooklyn streets. Gesturing for Lorenzo to sit down in one of the two chairs close to the desk, Rocco sat down in the other, which was right behind the mahogany desk. He poured wine into two crystal glasses, and handed Lorenzo one. After taking the other one himself, Rocco leaned back in his chair, and looked at the young man sipping the wine. Lorenzo was a representative from The Tropicana Casino & Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada. The Tropicana had once been owned by Don Michael Angelino, the former Genovese Family boss. Since Don Angelino was dead, and his son a lawyer with no interest in running a casino, it was now fully owned by the former Genovese Las Vegas representative, Vincenzo Terraglia. He used to run several casinos in Las Vegas for the Genovese Family, but now it was all about the very profitable Tropicana. Lorenzo was here to discuss an eventual partnership between Don Luccino and Vincenzo Terraglia, and he smiled as he placed his glass down.

Lorenzo: Mr. Luccino - it's an honour finally meeting you. Mr. Terraglia is sorry about not being able to attend the meeting personally, but today, his oldest son is getting married, sure you understand.

Rocco: Ah, well those a' happy circumstances. I am sure you know why you're here.

Lorenzo: So I am, Mr. Luccino. Mr. Terraglia is willing to give up 45% of his total profit, if he would get no less than ten million dollars.

Rocco: 'Ey, ten million - an awful lot of fazools. Ten million's more than I could possibly give 'im, no madda' what my cut would be, y'know. Please lower the bar a lil' bit, and I might be able to cough up the money.

Lorenzo now stood up with his marron briefcase in his hand, and he still had his "Mr. Charming" smile over his lips, even if something was quite obviously making him a little nervous.

Lorenzo: I can make no such promises without consulting Mr. Terraglia.

The man turned around, and was quickly on his way out of the room. Rocco was still sitting in his massive office armchair, and looked to the door, which was still open. Soon, Rocco lit up another cigar, and lifted the reciever off the phone. While he put the cigar to his lips, he dialed a number on the phone, and waited for someone to pick up. It was not too long until a familiar character did, and Rocco smiled. It was Francesco Terraglia himself, Vincenzo's young son. He was a co-owner of The Tropicana, and perhaps he would be able to give Rocco a cut of the action. Francesco was considered a playboy character in Las Vegas, and it was also said that "if the Rat Pack would come back in a modern shape, there's no doubt who the leader of the pack would be," about Francesco. These were all very generous comments, and Francesco was considered a stand-up guy.

Francesco: Frankie.

Rocco: 'Eya, Frank, 'tis "Rocky Nuts".

Francesco: Hey, hey, Roc', been quite some time. How's things?

Rocco: Not bad, Frank, not bad. Heard ya' brother's gettin' married, congrats, congrats.

Francesco: Ah, yeah, yeah. Grazie, Roc', grazie.

Rocco: Prego, Fank. 'Ey, anyways, I have a favour to ask from ya'. Y'know.. Lorenzo was here. He told me that ya' pops wanted ten mill' for forty-five percent of the casino, eh, whats' that? We're old friends, and when I says I want a fair share, I gets what?

Francesco: Mardon'! Ten mill'?! That's a lot, even for the ol' man...

A short chuckle could be heard in the other end, but it slowly died away since there was no happy response from Rocco.

Rocco: I'll send a guy down in a few days. Maybe you could meet him, and you could meet ya' pops with him, eh?

Francesco: Like a fuckin' tourist guide? Haha, just kidding, 'course I'll take ya' friend to the ol' guy. 'Ey, listen, I have to go, it's my brother's damn wedding day. See ya'.

The call was disconnected, and Rocco put the reciever down. This time, it would not be picked up again, but the cigar would. Bringing the burning 'cancer stick' to his lips, Rocco thought the Las Vegas thing over. He would need to send a man to Las Vegas to discuss the matter at hand. It had to be a smart guy, muscle was now what was needed right now. Vincenzo was a friend of the indirect family, and to muscle him out of Vegas was not part of Rocco's plan. No, he would need a man who knew how to handle business, someone with smarts. His own son, John, was not really the man for the job, because he was a nobody using DiMartino measurements. A good thing would be to send his lawyer, Genco Amarante down. Genco was an intelligent man, and quite polite, even if he was a fairly young man, he was experienced enough, and he was charming. Genco would be just the man. Even if he thought he would not need the telephone anymore, and even though he despised using it, Rocco picked the reciever up once again, and he dialed the number to his lawyer. Now, he would used coded language, since he never knew who was listening in on his Brooklyn calls.

Genco: Amarante.

Rocco: 'Ey, Genc', 'tis Rocco. Listen, I hafta' be quick with ya', since you never know who's listenin'. You've got to take care of some business in Vegas. Vinny's casino, you know?

Genco: What time?

Rocco: No later than six o'clock.

This was the first code Håller med till 100%!. "Six o'clock" really meant "sixty percent", the answer to the coded question of Genco's. Genco said 'Okay', and soon, the call was over. Rocco Luccino made his way up from the armchair, and grabbed his coat and hat from the coathanger. Outside, Luigi DiRazzo, one of Rocco's brothers men waited. Luigi offered Rocco escort to his home, and Rocco smilingly approved. The two crossed the floor of the social club, nodding to some people as they went. Luigi was a made guy, and was therefore greeted in a very respectful manner. Rocco was of course greeted in a more respectful way, and he did not always greet the people back. However, no offense was taken, since the men all knew what kind of guy Rocco was. A boss has to think of a lot of things, and one of them is that he must not fall to the level of the people working for him. If he was to greet every single connected guy he met, the system would fall together, and every guy who was somehow affiliated with the DiMartino Family could as well rule every little thing. It was bad for business.

Luigi opened the door to the backseat of the Cadillac, and the boss climbed into the car. Luigi quickly ran around it, and jumped into the driver's seat. After turning the ignition on, they were off.

La Guardia International Airport, 4th April, 11:03 AM:

After passing through the airport entrance, Genco lit up a cigarette. He carried his brown briefcase in his right hand, and with his left one, he put the cigarette in and out of his mouth. As he walked up to the luggage control, he could feel a hand on his shoulder, and quickly turned around. It was a security guard. The guard, who was clad in a white uniform, told Genco to put the cigarette out, and although he lost his place in the line, he did so. Cursing to himself since he'd lost his exceptional place, Genco returned to the line, and read the monitor above his head. "Flight 501 - Las Vegas, Nevada, takeoff 12:00". Fifty-five minutes. Genco was not very nervous, he would make it to the flight, but the luggage lady was a rather slow woman. She took a good two minutes to check every customer, and Genco tapped his foot to the ground. Finally, it was Genco's turn, and he faked a smile to the lady. She grinned back at him, and with the X-ray machine, she checked his luggage. It was only one bag, since he did not have any extra luggage. After thirty seconds, she still did not find a thing, and let him through with his bag. As he had already checked in, Genco headed over to the store near the waiting hall, and purchased a bag of jelly beans along with two Snickers bars. After paying for them, Genco sat down at a plastic chair and ate one of the two Snickers bars. When there was no more time to waste, Genco walked over to the flight hall, and after showing the attendants his boarding card, he was allowed inside. No delay, the flight was right on time. After fifteen minutes in the new waiting hall, Genco was allowed to enter the airplane, and he found his seat to be a very comfortable one. Even if it was early, Genco was tired since he had to get up at five in the morning, so he fell asleep in the chair.

McCarran International Airport, Las Vegas, 4th April, 04:03 PM:

From a few thousand metres up in the blue sky, Genco looked down at Las Vegas. The desert city really did glow, even though it was not late at night. He had been sleeping for two hours, but was eventually awoken by a cute stewardess. If he had not been so very tired, he would have made a move, but he was way too sleepy. However, he could not fall asleep again. He would stay awake and eat the candy he had bought in New York. After buying a pair of earphones from a stewardess, Genco plugged them into the sound compartment of the seat, and soon, tunes from Paul Anka reached his ears. He was able to switch channels, but appreciated the music. "Give me a steel guitar and a glass of wine.. let me toast to a love I thought was mine...". Nodding his head to the music, Genco leaned back and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, it was announced to him that they now flew over the great state of Nevada, and Genco smiled at the news. The flight had been a very comfortable one, without any disturbing elements such as turbulence or up-throwing babies sitting next to him. He was in a happy mood, and knew that someone would wait for him as he came out of McCarran. It would probably be Francesco Terraglia or an associate of his, if he could not make it on his own. His thoughts of that all disappeared as he felt a tingling sensation in his stomach, and realized that they would soon touch ground again. Genco hated the landings. The way up was okay, but the way down was pure horror. Swallowing hard as he felt his body pressed to the ground below him, Genco clenched his teeth together, and held the arms of the seat in a tight grip. Finally, they were fully down, and began to slow down. Genco breathed out in relief. After a short message from the flight captain, the passengers were allowed to leave the cabin, and Genco walked out of the airplane among the first passengers. The smiling stewardess wished him a great day, and Genco thanked her, stepping out of the plane. Since he did not have any extra luggage, all he had to do was to grab his hand baggage and leave the airport. Someone would meet him outside, by the Western exit. As he walked out of the huge airport, someone did indeed meet him. It was indeed someone wating for him, sitting inside a shiny red Cadillac. The moment Genco emerged out of the building, the man jumped out of the vehicle, and ran up to him. The man was not Italian, he was fair-haired and had blue eyes. With shining enthusiasm, he shook Genco's hand.

James: Mr. Amarante, I am James Westhaven, one of Mr. Terraglia's law firm associates. I was sent here to pick you up, and bring you to his office.

Genco: Yeah, excellent. Nice car, by the way, yours?

James: No, Sir, it's Mr. Terraglia's. Shall we leave?

Genco: Sure, sure.

Carrying his bag to the car, Genco opened the back door and threw the bag inside the vehicle. After shutting the door behind him, the DiMartino Don's lawyer climbed into the passenger seat, and James sat down behind the wheel. A strong scent of cigarette smoke reached Genco's nostril, and he could feel the urge to light up a cigarette. However, James might not be a smoker, and might mind if he did so. Being the polite man he was, Genco did not smoke on the way over to Terraglia's office.

Terraglia & Associates Law Firm, Las Vegas, 4th April, 04:46 PM:

The glistening Las Vegas street was rather crowded with people of different backgrounds. They were dressed in different ways, they acted in different ways and even walked in different ways. Genco was astonished by the very living city in the right smack of the desert, and it was a brave bet to start building casinos out here, he thought. However, it had worked like a charm, and all of the casino owners were now making billions without much effort. If only he had been around in the '30s, he would have done the same. Genco was an intelligent man, but he may not have the same eye for gold mines as the men with great visions who had started all of this. Suddenly, the engine died, and James smiled at Genco, whose cigarettes now screamed for him to pick them up. Stepping out of the car, Genco immediately picked one up and brought it to his mouth. James just kept on smiling, and Genco lit it up. It had a very sweet taste, the cigarette. It had been too long. Grabbing his bag from the back seat, Genco was soon on his way, following James. James walked into a door situated on the great brick house that was Terraglia & Associates Law Firm. A guy in a suit nodded at James as he walked past the door, and Genco tipped his hat, the cigarette still in his mouth. Now, the two men walked up a set of stairs, and James opened a white door. It would lead them to a corridor, with several office cubicles on either side. James and Genco paced down it, until they finally reached the one they searched for - Francesco's very own. They knocked twice upon it, and it was opened after ten seconds of waiting. It was the smiling face of the youngest Terraglia son that greeted them, and Genco shook his hand, taking two steps beyond the doorstep. James quickly took off, and Francesco offered his guest a seat after closing the door.

Francesco: Mr. Amarante - a pleasure. May I give you anything to drink?

Genco: An espresso, please.

Francesco: Coming up.

The young lawyer walked over to his coffee machine, and after tapping a few buttons, a stream of espresso filled the coffee cup. It would soon be handed to Genco, who had thrown his cigarette butt into the trash can, and Genco grabbed the cup. Francesco made an all-black coffee for himself, and placed it on his desk, behind which he would soon sit down. He glanced over at Genco, who had his legs crossed and the cup to his mouth.

Francesco: So, Mr. Amarante.. welcome to Vegas.

Genco: Thanks, nice bein' here. I trust you know why I am here.

Francesco: So I do. To start with, I own but 20% of the casino myself, and so does my brother. Pops owns the remaining 80%, and he would not like to go down to owning anything below 50%. That would mean only 10% for you, since me and my brother together hold 40%. Understand?

Genco: Well, I am certain the circumstances may change.. let's say you and your brother went down to 10% each, that would mean 30% for my client.

Francesco: Well, what would there be in it for us? Lower percentage is not exactly a good thing for us.

Genco: You would get my client's eternal friendship and his shares in the Lucciano Conglomerate. They have gone up in price, if you did not notice.

Francesco: His Lucciano Conglomerate shares? He's got a lot of them?

Genco: Thirty, that would mean fifteen each. You would still recieve more than enough from The Tropicana, of course.

Francesco: Deal. I have reserved a room for you at The Tropicana Hotel, one of the finest suites. Here's the key, you'll hear from me as soon as I have talked this over with all parts involved.

With a grin, Genco grabbed the pair of keys handed to him, and Francesco wished him a good day as he firmly shook the fellow lawyer's hand. The moment Genco stepped out of the room, James showed up by his side, and Genco was soon escorted back outside. Slightly unhappy with the result of the short meeting, Genco sat down in the seat in which he sat before, and James jumped into the seat beside him. The engine was turned on, and Genco leaned back in his seat. They were soon off to The Tropicana.

The Tropicana Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas, 4th April, 05:32 PM:

A casino as grand as The Tropicana brought in millions of dollars weekly. The expenses were of course not very low, but it was all worth it. Behind it all was Vincenzo Terraglia, and in fact, no mob pushed him around. The Genoveses were out of Vegas for the time being, and since some still thought they were in the back of everything, no-one dared to touch his gold mine. Terraglia could make ten millions in a good week, and sometimes even more. It was an astonishing sight, and Genco's jaw almost dropped. The very fancy entrance greeted the Cadillac to the casino, and James reached for Genco's bag in the back. Giving it to Genco, James wished him a good night, and soon, Genco climbed out of the car, and walked up the stairs to the hotel and casino. The door-opener tipped his hat and opened the door, and Genco, who now had a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes, walked inside. He walked in a brisk pace, quickly heading over to the elevators. No time was worth wasting, so he opened the elevator door and stepped inside, pressing the fifth button once inside. The elevator was on its way up, and Genco checked his watch. There was plenty of time to call Rocco back home, and he would give his opinion on what had happened, and on the desicions made by the other side. The elevator finally stopped, and Genco walked out of it, bag in hand. The first thing he did as he reached the suite was to hang the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the doorknob, and he closed it. Once inside, Genco withdrew his cell phone, and dialed Rocco's number. A few tunes followed, but someone finally picked it up.

Rocco: Rocky.

Genco: 'Ey, it's Genco, Roc'.

Rocco: Good hearin' from ya', Genc', very good. How's things going?

Genco: Frank's one good businessman.. I had to give up the Lucciano shares to make him even talk to his people, Rocky.. I dunno' how this'll turn out.

Rocco: I'll fuckin' tell ya' how this'll work out! We'll own that fucking casino, and we'll fuck everyone over, if that's what it fucking takes! Make Vinnie listen - if not through deals, through violence. I'll send Paulie Retraggio down, stay safe.

Genco: Wait, Roc--

Click. Cursing, Genco threw the cell phone to the ground, and he threw himself upon the bed. He really understood from where Rocco had recieved his nickname, "Rocky Nuts". The man was not able to talk to, if his will did not go through, he was willing to whack anyone in his way. With an unpleased face, Genco switched the TV on using the remote control, and after a few minutes of watching boring game shows, he fell asleep without even having dinner...

The Tropicana Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas, 5th April, 06:34 AM:

After an eventful night followed a calm day. Las Vegas was not as alive as during the passing night, but it was still crowded. The TV was on, but it did not wake the tired Genco up. Soon, however, a knock on the door would. The sleeping Genco flew up from the bed, and looked to the door on which someone just had knocked. After swallowing a mouthful of water from a glass placed on his nightstand, Genco stood up from the bed and slowly walked over to the door. Another knock came upon the door before Genco could open, and an annoyed sigh was heard on the other side. The sleepy Genco who still had to come around opened the door, and saw that it was Paolo Retraggio, one of Rocco Luccino's enforcers. The man did not even greet the occupant of the room, but walked inside, carrying a bag. Genco turned around, surprised by the man's manners, and Paolo put his bag on a chair next to the bed.

Paolo: Hey Genco.

Genco: Eh.. hey Paul. How's things?

Paolo: Don't matter. Got a toilet? I haven't taken a leak since I left home...

Nodding, Genco gestured for Paolo the way to the bathroom, and while the DiMartino enforcer walked over to it, Genco got dressed. He clad himself in his trademark pinstriped white shirt, and his black pants. A black suit jacket was soon pulled over his shoulders, and while Paolo came out of the room, Genco was just tying the tie. Paolo sat down on the bed and grabbed a Twix bar from his inner pocket. He threw one over to Genco as well, who greedily began to chew at it, and Genco sat down on the bed as well.

Genco: So.. why did Rocky send ya'?

Paolo: To settle things over here. I'll only stay over the day. Vinnie's headin' down to the hairdresser, I'll get him there. I'm just here to tell you to stick around the casino today, let the cameras catch you an' stuff. Don't want anyone to think it's you who's behind this shit. Capisce?

Genco: Uh, yeah, Genc'.. got it.

With a smile, Paolo stood up and patted Genco's shoulder. He did not stay around to chat though, he quickly headed out of the room, and left Genco to his own mind. Genco had understood, all he had to do was to stick around, letting himself be seen. This would be an out-right slaying of the aged casino owner, but unless Paolo got caught by a witness, no-one would suspect the man who did business with the old man. Francesco was a good man, but naive. Vincenzo was sure to have many enemies who would be the first picks for suspects. Genco walked out of the room, and was on his way down the elevator, so that he could have breakfast in the dining hall. The Tropicana breakfasts were rumoured to be some of the best in Vegas, so it was with great expectations that the man walked into the dining lounge.

Pablo's Hair Salon, Las Vegas, 5th April, 11:03 AM:

Inside stood Pablo with a scissor in his hand. His blue shirt had but two buttons, but only the lower one was buttoned. His hair was slicked back, and his eyes were deep inside his head. He was waiting for a "VIP guest" to show up, namely Vincenzo Terraglia. The old man was here to get his hair cut by the best of the best in Vegas, Pablo Estanza. Pablo's hair salon was one of the most luxurious in Vegas, and it was therefore that he came there. What he did not know was that the man in the Lincoln across the street, reading the paper as he smoked his Marlboro, was there to kill him as he arrived. The man, who was Paolo Retraggio, had waited at the scene for two hours already, and he had downed two cups of disgusting coffee as he awaited his prey. Soon, this newspaper would write about "An Influental Casino Owner Rumoured To Be Associcated With The Mob Killed". Paolo smiled at the thought, because such was his mind. Finally, the Lincoln limousine arrived. It drove up to the hairdresser's, and out of the driver seat stepped a man dressed in a white suit and a fedora hat. He ran around the rectangular vehicle and opened up a door to the backseat. Paolo could see the back of the head belonging to Vincenzo Terraglia. His hair was more white than black, and he was very chubby. He walked supporting a cane, and he was very slow. Paolo came to wonder what he needed a hairdresser for, since he was nearly bald, but he was sure the old man had his reasons. Suddenly, the limousine took off, and Paolo was surprised. He had assumed that Vincenzo used bodyguards. Perhaps, though, they were already waiting in the hair salon, and had been sent there to check so the building was not 'prepared'. Paolo did not give a damn, but withdrew his compact revolver from the glove compartment. Stepping out of the car, he looked at the hair salon from behind his black glasses, and he took five steps to cross the road. Jogging up the three steps that ultimately led to the entrance of the hair salon, Paolo entered the building, and was greeted by a young woman behind a counter. The chairs in which the customers would sit down were all located in this very room, and Paolo could see that Vincenzo sat down in one of them. Leaning back, the old man waited for Pablo himself, who had walked to the back of the place to get something. Paolo decided not to mind the young lady, but stepped up to the chair next to Vincenzo's. As the old man turned his head to look at Paolo, he looked into the barrel of a gun. A .22 caliber revolver, aimed right up his face. He could not even scream before the shot ended his life span, and the customers went wild. Chaos erupted, and Vincenzo's bodyguards, who had not seen a thing, flew up from their seats. Paolo was right, Vincenzo had bodyguards. They withdrew their guns, but Paolo was already on his way out. Jumping into the car which he had taken from a rent-a-car business, he drove away. The car had no license plates, because Paolo had removed them just before this incident, and he was now on his way out of Las Vegas. If only he had seen the street corner ahead of him, he would have made it out alive. The car burst into flames, and Paolo's own life was soon ended. His body was unidentifiable, due to its burning up. No investigation was ever made on the crime.

The Tropicana Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas, 12:06 PM:

This was the moment Genco had been waiting for for the past three hours. A call. He had been frequenting the roulette, Black Jack and poker tables, and also the bar. The cameras had sure spotted him, so there was no suspicions of him murdering Vincenzo. He had not personally heard the news on Vincenzo's death yet, but as he turned the TV on using the remote control, he got it all. Vincenzo had been killed with one shot through the head, and the killer had driven straight into the wall and died. Fuck. Paolo was dead. But the 60% of The Tropicana Hotel & Casino were now up for the taking, and Rocco had been sitting on the edge of his seat. He had bought them all for almost no money at all. The NYSE needed to get rid of them, and they were all his. Sure, an old friend of the friends was dead, but Rocco had gotten his will through. Francesco would probably contact Genco soon, but at the moment, he could not care less. Genco was sure to get a good position in the casino business, perhaps he would even be the front man, the public owner. It would all be explained in the call he just recieved on his cell phone. Picking it up, Genco swallowed.

Rocco: Good job, amico. I'm proud of ya'. P failed, but you did good. Stay in Vegas for a while, speak to Frank and the other kid. Make sure they don't get any proof. Like I said, stay in Vegas, 'cause we'll be movin' in soon. Oh, and I just got hold of a couple grands no-one had picked out from the casino. Make sure you get 'em.

The call was ended, and Genco was overwhelmed with emotions. He had barely done a thing, but still, he would be a Vegas big shot. It was too much to fathom, almost.

___________________

Hoppas allt gick rätt med kodningen nu.

[Weener]

En liten sak på engelska:

Väldigt liten, orka läsa allt det där

[Crice]

Väldigt liten, orka läsa allt det där

Men tvingade jag dig?

[Corleone]

@Crice: Läser imorgon. Klockan är halv 12 ffs.

Edit: Precis när jag postade tråden så började the godfather theme att spelas. Stämning?

Redigerad 15 april, 2005 av Corleone

[Crice]

@Crice: Läser imorgon. Klockan är halv 12 ffs.

Edit: Precis när jag postade tråden så började the godfather theme att spelas. Stämning?

Haha, gör så.

Och, ja, lustig slump.

[Tackleberry]

@Crice:

Kan du inte skriva en lite sammanfattning så jag vet om jag orkar läsa allt det där?

[Crice]

@Crice:

Kan du inte skriva en lite sammanfattning så jag vet om jag orkar läsa allt det där?

Sure.

Handlar om en maffiaboss från New York som vill ta över ett kasino i Las Vegas, allt för att tjäna pengar. De forna ägarna blir dock inte alltför glada, och en frisörsstol blir lite lätt nedblodad.

Skriven av mig.

[Tija]

Lite off topic här, så kom jag trea i Vetenskapsfestivalens skrivartävlingen förra året! Jag är jättestolt... Det handlade om en kille som satt på en buss... Meningslös, men den gick hem hos juryn!

[P-C]

YEsss11111 Noveller!!

har alltid fått MVG på allt jag skrivit .. heh .. hon sa typ "det märks att du srkiver mycket hemma!"

nej det enda jag skrivit hemma är denna berättelsen om .. problem

Med skakande händer öppnade Mikael dörren. Han tittade snabbt åt båda hållen

innan han steg in. I rummet satt runt 30 personer på varsin stol i en ring.

Allas ögon stirrade på honom då han nervöst gick in i rummet och satte sig ner.

De flesta i cirkeln var män i 30-40års-åldern. Vissa skakade med händerna, andra

tittade nervöst av och an på klockan. Micke visste varför han var här, han visste

vaför DOM var här. Alla hade dom en sak gemensamt.

-Jaa.., harklade sig gruppledaren. Mikael Nilsson är ny här i vår grupp och han

ska berätta lite om sig själv och sitt problem.

Mikael tog ett djupt andetag.

-Hej, sa han snabbt.

-Hej, stämmade gruppen.

Han svalde.

-Jag heter Mikael Nilsson, är 32 år gammal och bor i Stockholm och jag..

Han pausade, tittade ner på sin skor, tittade sedan upp på gruppledaren som

nickade uppmuntrande tillbaka.

-Det hela började 15 år sen..när dom första mjukvarorna kom. Jag fattade direkt

tycke för hela grejen och sen dess har det tagit över mitt liv mer och mer.

Hans röst brast. Han chippade efter andan.

-DET HAR FÖRSTÖRT MITT LIV!, skrek han. DET HAR FÖRSTÖRT 4 FÖRHÅLLANDE OCH

DRIVIT BORT MINA VÄNNER! JAG ÅNGRAR DEN DAGEN JAG FÖRST SPELADE DOLPHIN!

FÖRSTA DAGEN JAG SPELADE QUAKE! FÖRSTA DAGEN JAG SPELADE HALF-half-half..

Han hulkade kraftigt. Tårarna rann nerför hans kinder. Han torkade bort tårarna

med sin T-shirt.

-Mina ända vänner var personer som jag aldrig träffat ens, sa han tyst. Personer

på forum och sånt. Gick min dator sönder fick jag ABSTINENS! Jag hade ingenting

att göra.. INGENTING, FATTAR NI?

Han andades snabbt, han fick knappt luft.

-MIN DATOR VAR MITT JÄVLA LIV! DET VAR DET ÄNDA STÄLLET JAG KUNDE VARA mig SJÄLV!

OCH SÅ SPELEN! OCH SÅ SPELEN...fan.. dom förstörde mig. Jag minns att jag satt

uppe i FYRA dygn och spelade Unreal Tournament!

Han grät. Skrek och hulkade.

Gruppledaren ställde sig upp och kramade om Mikael. Han hulkade.

-Såja, såja..släpp ut det.

Resten av gruppen ställde sig upp, kramada om honom.

Gråten ekar genom Västströms korridorer.

/akaast 2005

[vinnecool]

Lite off topic här, så kom jag trea i Vetenskapsfestivalens skrivartävlingen förra året! Jag är jättestolt... Det handlade om en kille som satt på en buss... Meningslös, men den gick hem hos juryn! 

Den lät jäkligt intressant!

eller inte! Men sånt där konstigt och stört brukar gå hem... vann nån tävling i typ femman där jag skrev om någon som bara gick runt på ett museum och tittade på sakerna... fyra sidor...

JAG hatade den, men "domarna" alltså fem fjortisar utan liv, dyrkade den...

idioter....

EDIT: @PC: En klassiker!

Redigerad 17 april, 2005 av vinnecool

[Cortez]

YEsss11111 Noveller!!

har alltid fått MVG på allt jag skrivit .. heh .. hon sa typ "det märks att du srkiver mycket hemma!"

nej det enda jag skrivit hemma är denna berättelsen om .. problem

Med skakande händer öppnade Mikael dörren. Han tittade snabbt åt båda hållen

innan han steg in. I rummet satt runt 30 personer på varsin stol i en ring.

Allas ögon stirrade på honom då han nervöst gick in i rummet och satte sig ner.

De flesta i cirkeln var män i 30-40års-åldern. Vissa skakade med händerna, andra

tittade nervöst av och an på klockan. Micke visste varför han var här, han visste

vaför DOM var här. Alla hade dom en sak gemensamt.

-Jaa.., harklade sig gruppledaren. Mikael Nilsson är ny här i vår grupp och han

ska berätta lite om sig själv och sitt problem.

Mikael tog ett djupt andetag.

-Hej, sa han snabbt.

-Hej, stämmade gruppen.

Han svalde.

-Jag heter Mikael Nilsson, är 32 år gammal och bor i Stockholm och jag..

Han pausade, tittade ner på sin skor, tittade sedan upp på gruppledaren som

nickade uppmuntrande tillbaka.

-Det hela började 15 år sen..när dom första mjukvarorna kom. Jag fattade direkt

tycke för hela grejen och sen dess har det tagit över mitt liv mer och mer.

Hans röst brast. Han chippade efter andan.

-DET HAR FÖRSTÖRT MITT LIV!, skrek han. DET HAR FÖRSTÖRT 4 FÖRHÅLLANDE OCH

DRIVIT BORT MINA VÄNNER! JAG ÅNGRAR DEN DAGEN JAG FÖRST SPELADE DOLPHIN!

FÖRSTA DAGEN JAG SPELADE QUAKE! FÖRSTA DAGEN JAG SPELADE HALF-half-half..

Han hulkade kraftigt. Tårarna rann nerför hans kinder. Han torkade bort tårarna

med sin T-shirt.

-Mina ända vänner var personer som jag aldrig träffat ens, sa han tyst. Personer

på forum och sånt. Gick min dator sönder fick jag ABSTINENS! Jag hade ingenting

att göra.. INGENTING, FATTAR NI?

Han andades snabbt, han fick knappt luft.

-MIN DATOR VAR MITT JÄVLA LIV! DET VAR DET ÄNDA STÄLLET JAG KUNDE VARA mig SJÄLV!

OCH SÅ SPELEN! OCH SÅ SPELEN...fan.. dom förstörde mig. Jag minns att jag satt

uppe i FYRA dygn och spelade Unreal Tournament!

Han grät. Skrek och hulkade.

Gruppledaren ställde sig upp och kramade om Mikael. Han hulkade.

-Såja, såja..släpp ut det.

Resten av gruppen ställde sig upp, kramada om honom.

Gråten ekar genom Västströms korridorer.

/akaast 2005

Du har inte funderat på att skriva böcker? =)

[Master_sage]

Jag kommer med en SANN spökhistoria efter skolan!

[Patrik]

Jag kommer med en SANN spökhistoria efter skolan!

Bara din avatar inte är inblandad, då kommer jag aldrig kunna sova igen.

[P-C]

Du har inte funderat på att skriva böcker? =)

Ska ga pa foerfattargymnasium