This was bull fucking shit. He had fucking had it. He had spent his blood money on them and never even got a bowl full. He knew exactly who the bastard was that was eating his Lucky Charms. That fat son of a bitch. He fumed and mumbled the whole time he walked down the hall to his bedroom in the clubhouse.
He didn't give a fuck that he was only in his Batman pajamas or the fact that there was witnesses at the bar. He had warned the bastard last week about eating his Lucky Charms. He picked up his Glock cocked it, checking for bullets and headed out to find the motherfucker.
He stalked back down the hall and saw the piggly son of a bitch bent over something at the bar. "Are those my fucking Lucky Charms?" The curly haired man with glasses turned to look at him.
Filthy Phil stood up backing away from the Mohawked gunman. "Um no." Phil looked nervous and pale.
"DON'T fucking lie to me. I told you. I fucking told you not to eat my cereal. Didn't I?" Juice walked closer to Phil with a look that Happy would have been proud of.
"Y-yes." The man stutter out as he looked around for help from the other Sons who had yet to move due to shock from Juice waving a gun around over food.
"Right. So here's what you're going to do; you are going to go to the store. You, not a prospect. You are going to replace all of the fucking cereal you ate that belonged to me. Then you are going to be my bitch. Got it?" Juice poked Phil in the cheek with his gun making a point.
Filthy Phil nodded. "Good now move your ass I want breakfast before 10."