Chapter Three
~The Curse~
"For the last time, Connie, there is no such thing as a curse!" Michael Corleone exclaimed.
The head of the invincible Corleone Family crime empire elbowed his lawyer, Tom Hagen, who was inching too close to his desk space. The desk was monstrous, as far as desks go, but not quite big enough to comfortably seat three adults and two children.
"There is too!" Michael's sister Connie retorted, inching further toward the center of the desk as muddy lake water lapped at her near-priceless designer high heals. "And we are cursed!"
The Corleone Family lived by the lake, or to be more specific, they HAD lived by the lake. Several days previous, it had started to rain. Now, the Corleone Family, found themselves living IN the lake.
"We are not cursed," Michael insisted. "Both Tom and I are educated men. We went to college. And we know there is no such thing as a curse. Isn't that right Tom?"
The lawyer said nothing.
"Isn't that right, Tom?" Michael asked again, in a slightly more unpleasant tone.
"You never should have killed Fredo," Hagen muttered.
"For the record," the head of the Corleone family explained, "I did not kill Fredo. Neri killed Fredo, I just gave the order."
"It's the same thing!" Hagen spat.
"Consider yourself lucky that the guns are over there in the filing cabinet. Otherwise, I wouldn't put up with you talking back to me like that."
The members of the Corleone family sat in silence for several minutes. The rain continued to fall, and the room slowly continued to fill with murky water. Tom Hagen peered out of the window at the giant black cloud that had settled itself over the Corleone Family's lakeside residence. The sun was shining not so far away, over the neighbor's house actually.
"You know, it really is too bad that the guns are in the filing cabinet. After all, how hard could it been to construct a lifeboat from a couple of dead bodies?" Michael wondered out loud.
"It really is too bad that lightening struck the boathouse," the lawyer sighed.
"It's proof that we are cursed!" Connie cried. "It won't stop raining, the house is flooded, lightening struck the boat house destroying our only means of escape, the phones are dead, and the mailman hasn't come for a whole week!"
"Connie, the mailman stopped coming three years ago," Michael reminded her. "Certainly you haven't forgotten that incident."
"I haven't," Tom grumbled. "Hey, maybe this rain will finally wash the blood stains off the sidewalk. Those were making the place look bad."
"Aunt Connie, why don't we just swim out of here?" Michael's son Anthony inquired.
"Well, we could swim out of here if a certain little boy's father had not stocked the lake with man-eating piranha!" Connie explained.
"Don't start with that again, Connie. Those piranhas were a good idea at the time. Besides, Fredo used to enjoy fishing for them."
As if on cue, there was a blinding flash of lightening, and a crack of thunder. The lights blinked, and then died completely plunging the room into semi-darkness.
"Well this is just peachy!" Connie wailed.
"Where is Guido?" Michael asked, checking his watch. "I sent him to try and find something we could use as a boat. That was at least an hour ago."
"Maybe the piranhas got him," Connie suggested.
Hagen checked his own watch. "It was precisely 42 minutes and 13 seconds ago, and knowing Guido he's probably still trying to figure out what a boat is."
Guido was Michael's bodyguard. It had often been said of Guido that he possessed slightly-less-than-the-acceptable-minimum of intelligence.
"I didn't hire him for his brains, Tom," Michael said. "I hired him because he's seven feet wide and three feet taller than me."
There was a faint knocking sound at the door. All five people crowded on the desktop jumped, nearly sending Connie toppling into the water.
"I'll bet it's Fredo's ghost!" Connie whispered to her brother once she had repositioned herself and was no longer in danger of becoming lunch for the piranhas. "He's come to kill us!"
"I wouldn't worry, Connie," Tom Hagen laughed. "If the ghost of Fredo has come to kill anyone, it'll kill Michael."
"And Michael's first buffer layer in the chain of command," the Don smiled evilly. "The one who gave the order to Neri, remember?"
The door swung open, slowly of course, seeing as the entire house was full of water. Sitting in a small rowboat was Arthur Adams, accompanied by the mysterious Turi Guliano.
"I am not taking your daughter back!" Michael Corleone snarled.
"Oh, that's a great thing to say to someone who can save us," Tom Hagen sighed.
"Are you Michael Corleone?" Guliano inquired, stepping out of the boat and swimming over the desk.
"I'd get back in that boat," the lawyer warned. "That water is full or piranha."
Guilano's eyes widened.
"What sort of crazed maniac would stock a lake with piranha?"
"Oh maybe the sort of crazed maniac who would kill his own brother and bring a curse down upon us," Connie answered, pointing to her brother.
Despite the fact that he had met some very evil people in his time and fought bravely to steal from the wealthy and given to the poor peasants of Sicily, Turi Guliano gulped. The only hope for his country's salvation stocked lakes with piranha.
~The Curse~
"For the last time, Connie, there is no such thing as a curse!" Michael Corleone exclaimed.
The head of the invincible Corleone Family crime empire elbowed his lawyer, Tom Hagen, who was inching too close to his desk space. The desk was monstrous, as far as desks go, but not quite big enough to comfortably seat three adults and two children.
"There is too!" Michael's sister Connie retorted, inching further toward the center of the desk as muddy lake water lapped at her near-priceless designer high heals. "And we are cursed!"
The Corleone Family lived by the lake, or to be more specific, they HAD lived by the lake. Several days previous, it had started to rain. Now, the Corleone Family, found themselves living IN the lake.
"We are not cursed," Michael insisted. "Both Tom and I are educated men. We went to college. And we know there is no such thing as a curse. Isn't that right Tom?"
The lawyer said nothing.
"Isn't that right, Tom?" Michael asked again, in a slightly more unpleasant tone.
"You never should have killed Fredo," Hagen muttered.
"For the record," the head of the Corleone family explained, "I did not kill Fredo. Neri killed Fredo, I just gave the order."
"It's the same thing!" Hagen spat.
"Consider yourself lucky that the guns are over there in the filing cabinet. Otherwise, I wouldn't put up with you talking back to me like that."
The members of the Corleone family sat in silence for several minutes. The rain continued to fall, and the room slowly continued to fill with murky water. Tom Hagen peered out of the window at the giant black cloud that had settled itself over the Corleone Family's lakeside residence. The sun was shining not so far away, over the neighbor's house actually.
"You know, it really is too bad that the guns are in the filing cabinet. After all, how hard could it been to construct a lifeboat from a couple of dead bodies?" Michael wondered out loud.
"It really is too bad that lightening struck the boathouse," the lawyer sighed.
"It's proof that we are cursed!" Connie cried. "It won't stop raining, the house is flooded, lightening struck the boat house destroying our only means of escape, the phones are dead, and the mailman hasn't come for a whole week!"
"Connie, the mailman stopped coming three years ago," Michael reminded her. "Certainly you haven't forgotten that incident."
"I haven't," Tom grumbled. "Hey, maybe this rain will finally wash the blood stains off the sidewalk. Those were making the place look bad."
"Aunt Connie, why don't we just swim out of here?" Michael's son Anthony inquired.
"Well, we could swim out of here if a certain little boy's father had not stocked the lake with man-eating piranha!" Connie explained.
"Don't start with that again, Connie. Those piranhas were a good idea at the time. Besides, Fredo used to enjoy fishing for them."
As if on cue, there was a blinding flash of lightening, and a crack of thunder. The lights blinked, and then died completely plunging the room into semi-darkness.
"Well this is just peachy!" Connie wailed.
"Where is Guido?" Michael asked, checking his watch. "I sent him to try and find something we could use as a boat. That was at least an hour ago."
"Maybe the piranhas got him," Connie suggested.
Hagen checked his own watch. "It was precisely 42 minutes and 13 seconds ago, and knowing Guido he's probably still trying to figure out what a boat is."
Guido was Michael's bodyguard. It had often been said of Guido that he possessed slightly-less-than-the-acceptable-minimum of intelligence.
"I didn't hire him for his brains, Tom," Michael said. "I hired him because he's seven feet wide and three feet taller than me."
There was a faint knocking sound at the door. All five people crowded on the desktop jumped, nearly sending Connie toppling into the water.
"I'll bet it's Fredo's ghost!" Connie whispered to her brother once she had repositioned herself and was no longer in danger of becoming lunch for the piranhas. "He's come to kill us!"
"I wouldn't worry, Connie," Tom Hagen laughed. "If the ghost of Fredo has come to kill anyone, it'll kill Michael."
"And Michael's first buffer layer in the chain of command," the Don smiled evilly. "The one who gave the order to Neri, remember?"
The door swung open, slowly of course, seeing as the entire house was full of water. Sitting in a small rowboat was Arthur Adams, accompanied by the mysterious Turi Guliano.
"I am not taking your daughter back!" Michael Corleone snarled.
"Oh, that's a great thing to say to someone who can save us," Tom Hagen sighed.
"Are you Michael Corleone?" Guliano inquired, stepping out of the boat and swimming over the desk.
"I'd get back in that boat," the lawyer warned. "That water is full or piranha."
Guilano's eyes widened.
"What sort of crazed maniac would stock a lake with piranha?"
"Oh maybe the sort of crazed maniac who would kill his own brother and bring a curse down upon us," Connie answered, pointing to her brother.
Despite the fact that he had met some very evil people in his time and fought bravely to steal from the wealthy and given to the poor peasants of Sicily, Turi Guliano gulped. The only hope for his country's salvation stocked lakes with piranha.