Stay classy, what the fuck is it supposed to mean? I mean seriously, when some fucking numb skull gives you a wink and says, stay classy kid, how the fuck are you supposed to take it? OK, I guess to really understand it’s meaning you really have to know what sort of situation it was used in, then you’d know what it was used to reference, confused? Well let me give you a quick rundown on my experience, and it starts and ends with local mobster, Frank Galboni. You see, old Frank gave me a wink and a click of his fingers and said those fucking words, stay classy, all while two of his goons had their pistols embedded in either side of my skull. Did I deserve to be in a position like that? Yeah maybe, see only a few short minutes before all this took place I was one finger deep inside his eighteen year old daughter while her twenty year old sister blew me off, as I let lose my seed in her mouth Frank walked in and well that’s how I ended up on my knees, dick out and pistols to the head. That’s when it all happened, as he was walking away he turned to me, winked, clicked his fingers and said, stay classy kid. Now I’ve got to be honest, those words confused the fuck out of me because I couldn’t figure out if he was secretly patting me on the back for scoring the way I had with his two daughters, I mean everyone knows Galboni likes to play around on his wife with as many pieces of tail as he can. Not that his wife complains, she knows what he does, but she wants for nothing, and she can have anyone she wants, when she wants, and I know it’s true, because I’ve been there. Two night before all this I turned up because an old pal of mine worked for Galboni and was trying to help me get some work. Anyway, the next thing I know I’m face deep between her legs, covered in her juices as she’s slobbering over my cock. Galboni didn’t have a problem with me that night, he even gave me a job out of how well I serviced his wife, so why crack the shits over me doing his daughters? But that’s all here nor there, the worst part is that I knew I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, but I needed to know what he meant by the stay classy remark, especially before his two goons put their bullets into my skull, so I took a quick breath and called out.
“Mister Galboni, can I ask a question before your boys make a mess out of my head?” I called out, Galboni took his hand off the door handle and after a few seconds he turned around and stared me down.
“The stay classy line, I’ve got to ask. Did you mean it as a good thing, like you did good kid, I liked the way you scored with those bitches, or did you mean it in a sarcastic, Al Capone, your dead, sort of way?”
“Seriously kid, did you just call my baby girls bitches?”
“I know, I know, it shouldn’t be what’s worrying me, I know it should be your boys and their toys that should be my real concern. But fuck me, I can’t get past that stay classy comment, please, you’ve got to let me know what you meant?”
“Kid, it meant nothing, it’s just a fucking saying, you stupid fuck!” He yelled as he drove the baseball bat down onto my head, I still don’t ever remember seeing him pick it up, but obviously he must have, from somewhere. Anyway, I felt the first two hits, and they hurt like fucking hell, but after that it was pretty much nothing. Although I did get to see the old fucker keel over after he brought the tenth swing of the bat down on my smashed in head. Seems the godfather had a bad ticker and it just fucking stopped, too much stress I presume and the fucker fell face down, in a puddle of my blood, dead as a door nail. But I’ll tell you something, he looked fucking classy all the way.