The Saint Valentine's Day Massacre

(A Historical Fiction Story)

(Names Bastian Schweinsteiger and Robert Lewandowski are real names, not used in offence.)

Snow trickled like soft rain through the sky that night, swirling around the shops and homes, like free birds. There was no moon shining in the sky, the streetlights shedding dim, beautiful light on the street, shadows playing on the edges of the shine. The peacefulness of the night was quickly brought to an end by a "BANG!". Two gangs 'ganged' up against each other! Hahahahahahaha! I'm such a comedian! Both sides men of mafia. Swearing, shouting, and screaming in pain was heard upon the bloodshed. One little boy who snuck outside watched the fight from a safe distance. He didn't know or understand what was going on. "Hm", he thought, "I should join those loud people in their fireworks show". He strutted over to one of the brawling men, one with a fat cigar. The man looked like the leader, shouting at his friends. The boy said, "Hi. My name is Basty. Can you be my friend?" The man looked at him, and said, "What the heck are you doin' out here? You gonna get killed!"

The boy still didn't understand, still. "Ha-Ha. I got myself lotsa lollipops. Wanna play in the morning? I'll give you one." The man only took out his cigar and took a huge puff. "Boy, it ain't safe out here. So leave with 'yer lollipops and go to bed." The boy just stood there, until a man fell down, with what appeared a hole in the middle of his stomach, near the heart, empty until it hit the pavement. The boy was smacked down by what appeared a pebble. "Ow!", he shrieked. He had been grazed by a bullet. He ran home, shooting a dirty look at the men, and ran the snow-crunchy path to home. Once inside, hot tears trickled down his face. "Mommy, a big man hit me with a rock on the arm and it hurts so bad all I did was ask him for a lollipop but he said no and-"

His mother cut him off. "What were you doing with those men?" she said.

"I wanted a turn to play with their smoke bombs."

"Those were mobsters, honey. I told you long ago not to go near them. How about I help your arm, then I'll call the police."

By morning, the police had stopped the brawlers. Where the little boy had stood the night before, 18 people had died. He walked outside. Some of his neighbor's windows had been smashed by bullets, and it took almost a day for the smoke to clear up. There was several holes in the asphalt, and there was a stray bloodstain on the ground. The fight had been truly devastating. Later, the newspaper came out. The headline read,

Mafia Brawl Near Residence, Neighbors Call Police

Unfortunately, that little boy, Bastian Schweinsteiger, could not read. Bastian Schweinsteiger saw some pictures in the newspaper, and said, "That's my buddy!". Everyone turned to look at Bastian Schweinsteiger. Bastian Schweinsteiger looked at them. "What," Bastian Schweinsteiger said, "Are you staring at me for?" Two officers ran out of the group. Bastian Schweinsteiger screamed and kicked when the police came, and the police dragged him into the car. Seconds later, the cops realized that the boy with only, like, four teeth in his mouth and mousy brown hair had a nasty kick, and the two were then on the ground. Bastian Schweinsteiger ran off, just to be brought to custody, by the other police.

"So, a man of the mafia, are you, uh, what's your name?"

"Bastian Schweinsteiger."

"Okay, Baseyian Swinestagger, please tell me what you are doing with the mafia. We're on thin ice, kid."

"I'm not a kid. I'm five! What's a mafia?!" Bastian Schweinsteiger began to cry.

Once the police had returned Bastian Schweinsteiger, his best friend, Robert Lewandowski, came to see if Bastian Schweinsteiger could play, they played soccer. Robert Lewandowski was a striker, and Bastian Schweinsteiger was a midfielder. Both were skilled. They walked to the warehouse they and their friends play soccer. Inside, the man Bastian Schweinsteiger had talked to the night before was kicking a soccer ball up and shooting it. The boys ran to the police and said, " A man with a gun is on our soccer field." The police walked in with them. "heilige Kuh!" Robert Lewandowski cried, as the man pointed a gun at him. The police Tased the while Robert Lewandowski cried out German potty language. After all the soccer balls were cleared and the man was in jail, Robert Lewandowski and Bastian Schweinsteiger played. The next day's newspaper read,

Capone Caught, Sent To Jail.

Soon later, Bastian Schweinsteiger and Robert Lewandowski finally started to learn how to read.

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