mostly mobsters

eric | 3

The streets of London are bustling and the atmosphere is acidic. Many smells flood my senses and i can pick up almost 4 different conversations happening, 2 of which are in different languages. I need to purchase a suit for the upcoming gala, which quite frankly, is something I'm excited about. This is going to be the 6th gala I attend. Let me get you up to speed on what it consists of:

The Mafia Gala, a make fun of the met, is an event organised each year by a different mafia, where people come to sort out deals and try to evade punishments from opposing classes. Usually once ever other year sometimes a body will be found but nobody ever gets in trouble, because the rules are that everything and nothing is legal. Sometimes quarrelling families will send in a young member to talk it out with another young member, which usually meets at the dance, where young adults are paired off with each other. The age where you attend is over 19, and i am 24 now so I've attended a fair few. If you skip a year, excluding people who are ill, or attending funerals or weddings, you might get eliminated. But nobody has tested that out for a good few years now, and i will not be the first again.

I briskly walk into whatever big named brand shop this is and rush to the mens wear and into the formal rooms, where they sell the suits. Yuck, they all look bland and flavourless. I flutter through all of the suits on the rails, until, bingo. I've come across a deep red detailed blazer with a black, neat trim around the sleeves. I'm going full Harry Styles. Well, partially, even if i can find suitable trousers. Oh well, i probably have some at home. My younger brother is always planting nice clothes in my wardrobe because he's already out grown them. Because of that, i love and hate them. Hate mostly because my brother is 18 and already about 6 foot, while I, the oldest, remains a sensible 5 foot 8. I go towards the nearest changing unit and put it on. My, oh my, I look delectable if i even say so myself. That sounds weird. I'm sorry, shouldn't have said that.

I bring the jacket to the checkout and as I pay for it, I hear a recognisable voice. Oh my god, this is hilarious. She's being made to go to the Gala, most likely by her father. I thank the shop clerk and sneak into the opposite isles, where the dresses are and my eyes fall upon Victoria. This is great, my day just got a whole lot better. I stand behind a shop mannequin and watch her fiddle around with a dress a clerk passed to her. 

"This is perfect, but do you have it shorter?" I overhear her asking, looking down at the material. The teenage shop clerk mumbles something incoherent and rushes out to a stock room, I presume, who is watched by Victoria, who is slowly moving around the knee high dresses. I walk closer to her and clear my throat.

"Careful, we don't want it too long for the Ball do we?" I say, sarcastically. She jumps in shock and spins around, and hit my pretty hard on my shoulder. Ouch. 

"What are you doing?" She almost shouts at me, and if i look close enough, I can see smoke coming out of her ears.

"Just shopping around," I pick up the closest dress, which is a rhinestoned cocktail dress. "Do you think they have this in my size" I ask, laughing at my joke, god, I'm so funny. She looks at me flatly.

"It already is, judging by your height." 

Okay, damn, attack the height i guess.

"Damn, i was only making conversation." I say, looking at her, trying to engage her in my big puppy eyes, or a smoulder, I don't know. Most ladies are irresistible to these bad boys. She just glares at me, her curly brown hair sitting neatly on her shoulders.

"Well, i was trying to stop it. What are you even doing with your face?" She deadpans, and my face drops. The eyes- They didn't work. Quite obviously she's a witch in disguise. I hear a pitter patter on the floor and see the young assistant going towards Vicky.

"This is the only one in stock. Would you like to try it on?" She asks her and Victoria says yes, which is followed by her being lead to a changing room. The assistant brushes past me without saying a word, moving on to the next victim, I mean shopper. I glide towards the cubicle she is in and stand by the door.

"Well Vicky Bicky, do you like it?" I chuckle.

"Don't call me that, and I haven't even put it on. Please leave before i do though." I imagine her looking at the dress, in her underwear- wait no NO NO NO, put that thought away. I shall not be perving on someone in my head. I need to respect her. Yes, that's better. She is robed. I am no pedo. #Consent, am i right?

"Alright,now that i've made it weird, i shall promptly make my leave"

"You are literally the most annoying person on this planet."

"Aww, Vic, that's the nicest thing you've said to me." I hear a thump against the door. 

"You have as much charm as a dead slug."

"That's even kinder"

" I'm convinced you never graduated from nursery."

"Darling, that's a bit of a slight over exaggeration. It was preschool"