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Mini Wong Fong or MWF was the best in the business. A sadist extraordinaire, he is all about hurting and killing people for profit. Mini’s services are expensive. That’s why he travels throughout the country and around the world, first class, with all expenses paid. This also goes for his traveling companion and life partner Fernando.

The pair strikes an unusual contrast. Fernando dresses in the deepest black. He has no idea what his lover does when they travel. The subservient Fernando remains locked in a hotel closet, hanging in chains with a ball gag. He awaits MFW’s return.

When the assignment is complete, they retreat to their desert castle. It is a place of pain and sodomy in Arizona. MWF always takes a different route and/or mode of transportation for their return. The anticipation building in Fernando not knowing when or how they will arrive at the castle for their games to begin. His torturous anticipation is so gratifying to MWF.

They make quite the couple.

MFW’s services are sought by the best individuals. They all posses impeccable references. The select clientele who demand his utmost discretion and professionalism. Those are who fill his exclusive client list.

MFW’s demands go unspoken. His clients are attuned to the fact that the surroundings required for him to deliver his service are decorated to his finicky taste. He is so punctilious to their requested details in the enactment of his duties.

MWF loves the diversified, but gory details his clients request him to perform. They can be most creative. Revenge brings out the nastiness and sadistic elements most hold in their inner selves. MFW loves it. He always says “One must love what they do.”

The following are MWF’s Demands for his working conditions:

Everything in the interrogation studio must be a specific shade of brilliant white, furniture, walls, everything. MFW wears a white top hat, tails, and gloves. He loves to smile throughout the ordeal and has spent thousands of dollars to have his teeth bleached as white as possible.

MFW’s bleached short crew cut is white. He has contact lens that makes his eyes appear white. And to top it all off, he wears white pancake makeup on every exposed part of his body.

Why white? MWF is sexually aroused by the splattering of deep red blood as contrasted on brilliant white. Especially how blood blots or spreads on differing types of linen. And how blood collects when it drips in puddles on the required polished white floor.

MFW’s services are in demand by white-collar criminals. But within the past few years, some traditional Organized Crime (OC) criminals have become clients.


One of those individuals is of special concern as it relates to MWF’s future.

This is a typical profile: Rocco “CoCo” Raspolitio

This OC criminal has made a name for himself. He is a criminal who savagely murdered and tortured his way to a leadership position.

This individual allegedly becomes more sophisticated.  Providence decrees a more urbane self-actualization is in his destiny.


Rocco took notice of his contemporaries and underlings.  One fact became glaringly obvious to him. Those individuals with their pedestrian and crude outlook and actions are quite the inferior. He felt he had risen above it all by a subtle, but a shiningly divine calling.

The new sophisticate appreciates fine art and gourmet food. He enjoys the refinements the good life has to offer. He seeks acceptance inside a legitimately rarified circle of society.

Baseball is out, Bach is in.

Rocco wears hand tailored expensive conservative suits. His gaudy dress and its accompanying accruements have made way for an understated elegance.

He has forsaken his favorite pinky ring.

The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal replace the tabloids. He’s stopped reading the newspapers while sitting on the toilet. He forces himself to eat slowly and enjoy, not devour his wine.

Cigarettes are out, an occasional Cuban cigar is in (with brandy after dinner.) He has taken to smoking a pipe, (exquisitely hand carved) when in a pensive state.

This fellow has changed his speech patterns, dropping the deze, dems, and dose and eliminating all foul language. This process begins by seeking vocal coaching to refine his speech and diction. Rocco starts attempting to think before he speaks, learning that silence can be more intimidating than words.

This individual lines his new library with leather bound editions. He attempts to read the classics.  A decision to persuade the right people he does read the classics is made by employing an academic to explain what he attempts to read.

The academic acts as a professional tutor to introduce Rocco to a more intellectual and insightful aspect of things. Something akin to what William Holden did to Judy Holiday in “Born Yesterday” (Columbia, 1950.)

A change in social circles is in order. Rocco is seen at the posh and trendy nightspots throughout New York City. When in the right company, he is willing fodder for the Paparazzi. Especially at charitable events where he supports worthy causes with huge donations.

At his own attempt at revisionist history, Rocco demands to be referred to as 'businessman.' But he never can escape his criminal past. The long memory of the Fourth Estate sees to that. He believes his artful banter with reporters is becoming refined. He is thinking of hiring a press agent.

When things must be settled the old-fashioned way, it disturbs his new sensibilities. To sever all connection with his sociopathic past, Rocco now must distance himself from his past ruffian behavior.

At times, circumstances demand his limited dealings with old associates.  The layers of protective separation built must be permeated on special occasions ONLY. When these episodes are absolutely necessary it becomes most distasteful to his new sensitivities.

But business is still business. “You do what you gotta do” has been replaced by “These exigent circumstances demand immediate and prompt attention.”

The forceful extraction of information or the elimination of 'problem' persons never ends. Rocco’s new found and delicate sensitivity makes him offended or 'shocked' when the aforementioned is unavoidable. At least, that is the 'projection' he must maintain.


This 'unfortunate' activity is a distant and concomitant process. It is the last resort when civilized mechanisms of negotiation have failed. It must be done professionally.

Gone are the days of dumping a body into the meat grinder at that Brooklyn Kosher meatpacking plant.  But deep down inside, below all the disquietude remains the savage ruthlessness of his past. Yearning to express itself. It remains in that little box, secure but malcontent, dissatisfied and complaining in his old inner familiar voice.

When information must be extracted or a person needs to pay and suffer simultaneously with a slow death: That’s when Rocco realizes MFW’s services are especially warranted. MWF’s removal network and clean up are parallel to none.

Rocco, our Renaissance man, will enhance his campaign to continue to remake himself. This will lead him to bring divergent characters together in unprecedented conflict.

This is the story:


It was Passover 1970 or in Yiddish, Pesach, the biblically derived Jewish holiday. It was still celebrated by the dwindling number of elderly Jews on New York’s Lower East Side.

Yankel Rosenbaum AKA Yankee Jew Boy is the only big shot left over from the old Jewish Mafia. He personally saw to it the elderly leftover Alta Kockers (old shits) in the old and once predominantly Jewish neighborhood each had a delicious Passover dinner. He’s been doing this good deed for at least twenty years.

It his atonement for being such a nasty killer when he was young. “Jews don’t do Hail Mary’s,” he’d say.

Yankel had stashed tons of cash and lived well, not crazy. But he never left the old neighborhood. In his day, he had “hot and cold running broads” (his words) coming in and out of his apartment. Yankel saw no reason to get married. He was a contented bachelor. His only treat was visiting his sister in Sarasota, Florida for two weeks to celebrate Yum Kipper.

Yankel was no spring chicken. If one saw him on the streets, they’d think he was a sprite 60-year-old. He looked and actually was, in great physical shape. Yankel never smoked or drank. Since getting out of the Army after World War II he hit the gym at least five times a week.

The Army was the best time of his life. “Killing Germans was so much fun!”

As usual, he was heading out on his morning constitutional along the East River in Franklin Delano Roosevelt Park. His mind wanders as he picks up the pace of the walk. His memory is a steel trap containing years of Mafia details.

The street gangs of Puerto Ricans in the neighborhood knew not to fuck with him. They respected that he knew all the Jewish and Italian hoods back in the day. He was one cool dude. They knew him as “The Old Jew.”

Yankel would hold “Court” late afternoons in the park. The young hoods yearning to be “big shots” marveled at his true-life stories of the old days. He was treated like royalty.

The kids were in awe of Yankel.

Gangster wannabes, those kids were. They all sat in rapture as Yankel wove tales of murder and mayhem. His tales delivered in that now disappearing Yiddish inflected English with old Yiddish expressions, (“Don’t be a Schmuck!”) and its accompanying exaggerated facial and body language.

Sure, Yankel knew Albert Anastasia and Joe Adonis. But he also knew and worked with Abe “Kid Twist” Reliss and those other guys from Brownsville’s infamous 1930's Murder Inc.

Yankel literally knew where all the bodies were buried. He knew the date, time, and who ordered the hit. The offense committed by the whackee being whacked as well as the method of execution. Who actually executed the contract and ultimately what happened to the body. Every minute detail. He was a walking Mafia encyclopedia and atlas all in one.

Rocco Raspolitio decided it was time for Yankel to go. Things were heating up.

Besides the Yankel problem, Rocco knew MWF toyed with the idea of writing a book. He heard MFW was bitten by the celebrity bug. MFW knew too much about people that knew too much about Rocco. MWF had to go as well.

But complications arose. MWF was Rocco’s go-to person in this type of situation.

He wanted these two human incidentals in his life to 'go away.'

Rocco refused to use the usual people to employ the traditional methods of elimination. For fear, it could come back and bite him in the ass.

Rocco heard that some ingrate Italian moviemaker was planning to shoot a movie called 'The Godfather.' That was another potential problem to resolve.

'It never ceases,' Rocco thought to himself. Enjoying his afternoon tea and scones, he devised a resolution while savoring the imported tobacco in his favorite pipe.

In spite of the entertainment world trying to humanize gangster characters, 'the boys' still suffered from bad public relations. Even as Newspaperman Damon Runyon’s fictionalized stories and MGM’s classic film “Guys and Dolls” had laid out a revisionist historical prototype in the 1950’s, it was not quite enough. Rocco tried keeping a proper and respectable profile. But that 1950’s revisionist concept still needed work when it involved Rocco’s public persona.

'I ain’t no Nathan Detroit' He would lament to himself.

Rocco worried about Joe Colombo and his Italian American Civil Rights League. They were bringing unwanted attention. Crazy Joey Gallo was also a problem. The common denominator with these two 'assholes' was a lust for the limelight, (not just the obvious competitive lust for power by two sociopathic degenerates.)

Rocco feared Yankel would be discovered. Celebrity would successfully tempt him.

That scenario would become trouble for Rocco’s new life and new business.

Yankel knew everything about everyone.

The last straw was a story in The Sunday New York Times Magazine. It featured Yankel. Though he limited his cooperation, the reporters dug and got some hidden juicy details about the mob. Rocco’s reaction: This has expedited his concern due to 'an unfortunate turn of events.' The reporters were connecting the dots. The lines would eventually lead to Rocco.

Urgency dictated: Yankee Jew Boy and Mini Wong Fong had to go away. They had to be expedited in a thoughtful, unnoticed and most creative manner.


Robert Bubazzini (Bobby BuBa), was an up and coming member of the new mob. His father was Salvatore Bubazzini (Sally Hands.) Sally loved killing only using his hands, hence the nickname.

Sally knew Bobby was destined to be in 'The Life.'

To this end, Sally taught his only child everything he knew about “La Cosa Nostra” (This Thing of Ours.) But it must have all been in the genes. Bobby had always wanted to be a gangster since he could remember.

Sally always said, “Don’t do a fuckin’ thing until the time is right, then you do what you gotta do.”

Unfortunately, Sally passed away from cancer while serving a fifteen-year bit in Federal prison. He was not a rat and refused the deal the Feds offered to get to Rocco.

But Bobby had caught Rocco’s eye early on.

Rocco did the right thing. While Sally was away, he financially supported Sally’s family. This action, totally fictionalized by the media, was the myth the public holds of the Mob.

Truth be told: Mob guys went to “The Can” and their families suffered both emotionally and financially. Not any longer if Rocco had anything to do with it. That was one part of his revisionist Organized Crime endeavor.

Maria Bubazzini (Bobby’ Mother and Sally’s wife) was a nice piece of ass, definitely built to fuck. Rocco wanted to play hide the salami with her. But he didn’t, it became especially difficult when she put the moves on him.

He did not want to alienate Bobby. Rocco wanted to dismiss the mob stereotype of guys banging other guys wives while they were in The Can. Anyway, it was a good test of his control to not slip back into the “old ways.”

Nevertheless, Rocco held true to that one Mob myth. He did the right thing financially for Bobby and his Mother. This benevolent change in Mob tradition would also benefit Rocco’s ultimate plan. Rocco immediately took over as  Bobby's mentor. Right where Sally had left off, but with a new twist.

Now Bobby excelled in all things Mafia, but in all things academic as well. Bobby graduated with honors from St. John’s University with a major in Political Science and a minor in Psychology. Rocco continually urged him since high school with some surprisingly sage advice: “A good education is something they can’t ever take away from you.”

With Rocco’s influence, Bobby’s interpretation of what it meant and how to carry oneself as a New Organized Crime 'NOC' guy was slowly evolving. Rocco made sure Bobby was becoming a well-spoken and erudite individual. Bobby was also internalizing the ruthless nature of their business and how to hide it from everyone.

Even more so, Rocco instilled this theorem: The ability to control the world’s perception of oneself, what one does and how one does it is extremely useful and important to any individual.

Bobby would then add, 'You mean one's comportment?'

Rocco would momentarily slip back to being CoCo. He would lovingly and gently slap Bobby’s face and say, 'So, you’re a fuckin’ wise guy, now?' with a good-natured laugh.

Bobby 'got his button' at twenty-two. Rocco knew he had the future well in his hands. Bobby was fast becoming Rocco’s ideal of the New Organized Crime 'NOC' in New York City. A more diverse and inclusive criminal empire intelligently run, but still ruthlessly successful. This was how it will be molded to meet Rocco’s objectives.

Rocco now realized he was at a 'watershed' period in OC history.


Rocco hopped this new indoctrination technique would naturally 'trickle down' through the ranks.

Bobby was tasked to eliminate not only 'Yankel The Jew,' but surprisingly, “Mini Wong Fong” as well. This would be a delicate operation that required extreme finesse. If Bobby could pull it off, it would be a true test of that new combination destined compose the new organized crime in New York City, or as Rocco would name it, 'The NOC in NYC.'


Through Rocco’s strata of intermediaries, Mini Wong Fong was contracted to eliminate Yankel. An extra premium would be paid for MWF to extract all the information Yankel knew. That information would be quite useful as an insurance policy for Rocco.

It also would benefit his underlying, but unexposed, gnawing for revenge. The discovery of information involving past and present associates of whom he suspected of being disloyal would quench his latent desire for payback.

MFW was prepared to use the new portable Sony PortaPack half-inch video recording system he had purchased. He had mastered the use of this new technology and was eager to utilize it on this new assignment.

MFW did not buy anything Made in Japan. But he acquiesced and dealt with the Japanese. The Japanese tortured and killed his family during their rape and occupation of China in the late 1930’s.

As an orphaned child, MFW was smuggled to the United States by Christian Missionaries. He remembers the Japanese torture techniques. MFW now kidnaps, slowly tortures and finally kills a random innocent Japanese person.

He does this yearly for revenge.

MFW also has a memory as efficient as the one Yankel possesses. He now uses it as a baseline for his present-day business. MFW still continues to research history and study other devious and painful information extraction methods. He likes keeping his business plan relevant. It is also a form of pornography for his and Fernando’s consumption.

MFW’s extra-curricular activity has been discovered by Rocco. Rocco is not happy. Rocco has used MWF at least 5 times in the past 5 years. MFW knows way too much. Rocco believes this is a dangerous loose end. If MWF gets caught with an innocent Japanese victim, the cops would freak. MWF would spill his guts.

A potential Perfect Storm of media exposure is the one thing Rocco fears. It may all blow up in his face. He has been judiciously cultivating his new image and his new vision for Organized Crime in New York City, (The NOC in NYC.) 'Some fuckin’ Kike and a fop Slope ain’t puttin’ a crimp in my plans,' Rocco’s latent but occasional vocal inner voice whispers.

Rocco sets his plan into motion.


MFW gets Yankel in the Jersey City studio prepared for him by Rocco’s associates. The session starts. MFW expects it will be a twelve-hour endurance run. He has been briefed on Yankel’s history and has prepared his techniques to fit the occasion. He loves extracting information.

MFW is totally surprised by Yankel’s resistance to pain as it is applied psychologically and with laser sharpness. This old man won't give up anything.

He is defiant.

Before the session enters its second hour, Bobby enters the studio. He hands a surprised MFW a bowling ball bag.

'Open it, it’s a surprise,' Bobby says in a low whisper.

MFW is scared for the first time he can remember. He slowly unzips the case and finds a white bowling ball with the initials MFW in 14K gold lettering.

MFW feels a sense of relief and lets his guard down.

'Try it on for size to make sure it fits. Rocco wants you to relax. He wants to make his favorite hobby yours as well,' Bobby says with a smile.

MFW removes the ball and slips his three fingers into the appropriate holes.

Two of the three are then snapped off.

The inserted cutting mechanism implanted in the ball has engaged. The chilling scream MFW lets out is the predetermined cue for a young female associate of Bobby’s.  She enters and is holding the bloody head of MFW’s companion.

Fernando still has the ball gag in his mouth.

MFW is in shock and pain. His thumb is stuck holding the bowling ball (as was planned.)

Yankel watches with no interest at all.

He can’t figure out what the fuck is going on.

Yankel feels a bit hungry as it is way past his lunch time. He is upset because he's always wanted to match wits with the legendary MFW. Now, this young schmuck has fucked it all up.

Though Bobby wants MFW to suffer (he likes seeing people suffer,) he has to end this episode in a more expeditious manner. So MFW is shot in the temple to end his annoying cries. He lies dead on his shiny white marble floor in a pool of his own blood. It is upsetting he can not appreciate the artistic aftermath of his own blood patterns.

Bobby intends to dump MFW and his decapitated companion in the Hudson River. A return to a classic way of disposing of unwanted remains. It will also send a message because dead people usually come in threes.

'Relax, I‘m not going to hurt or kill you,' Bobby tells an unimpressed Yankel.

'I don’t take no shit from young funkin’ punks like you! Don’t do me any fuckin’ favors boychick (Yiddish for a little boy),' Is Yankel’s quick defiant response.

'Like you fuckin’ Goyim always say… you do what you gotta do!'

'I’m gonna get fuckin’ Rocco, I’m fuckin’ takin’ over and I like it Old fuckin’ Style. You’re a fuckin’ legend. I want you to work for me.'

Bobby explained: 'Dis fuckin’ guy gets my old man sent to the can, tries to interfere with my shit to become the fuckin’ wise guy I wanted to be, just like my fuckin’ father. I ain’t no fuckin’ sophisticate.'

'I’m Bobby BuBa son of Sally Hands!’ He yells proudly.

'Rocco thinks he can change who the fuck I am? I’m gonna make things like the way the fuckin’ was. Fuck Rocco..and you’re gonna fuckin’ help me.'

Yankel looked a Bobby with pride. “You wanna talk about a good son, just look at you! A boycheck who respects the old ways, I like that. And do I have two Puerto Rican street kids for you!' Yankel says as Bobby and the girl removed the restraints holding Yankel down.

'Meet the NEW Fuckin’ BOSS, same as the OLDER Fuckin’ Bosses,' Bobby said. 'I just love fuckin’ history!'

They left the studio to confront and happily kill Rocco.

For a more diverse selection visit

Stephen A. Murray’s novella “The NYPD Chronicles of Frankie Neptune” will be out in December 2017


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