Vic says… I don’t need her. I’ll go on one of them online dating services and find myself a new girl who appreciates me for what I am. I always knew Buck was a fag. Big Bob? Fuck him if he can’t take a joke. I’m done with this confederacy of pinheads. The Mafia should accept me as a soldier. My meeting with the Godfather went real good even if he kept laughing at my application I wrote out listing all my bodyguard experience with the guys in the local oldies band at the county fair and my martial arts correspondence school black belts. I even spoke some real Italian for him when I said “Omerta” which means hitman, I think. I’m not sure if I’m up to killing Sal, though, but if that’s what the Godfather wants that’s what the Godfather gets. Not paying mob gambling debts are serious business. Who’s that Sal think he is, anyway? Move into my pizzeria? Minghia. I told him, using more Italian. We’ll see about that.

Gina says… Screw Vic. I was worried he wouldn’t settle for the $2,500 to buy him out but he wasn’t a legal business partner anyway. Thank God he disappeared without asking for alimony. My poor mother always hated him. As for my slut sister Betsy, I always wondered if she and Vic… never mind. I still don’t trust him. Vic’s capable of anything. Don’t ask me why I married him. OK, OK, ask. He’s the only man who ever asked me.

Lt. Smith says … Enough of this corrections officer bullshit, I’m taking the police test for the city police academy. I got connections to get me near the top of the list. I want to be cop so bad I can taste blood. Protect and serve. Quell riots. Keep the peace. Follow orders. Carry out the final solution.  

Capt. Jones says … I can’t breathe. Seriously, I really can’t breathe from this cough. It keeps getting worse. It just won’t go away.

Sterling says … Ashley’s like that famous Patty Hearst. I’m not even sure what an heiress is. I think it means multi-quazillionaire. I couldn’t believe when the dudes on the golf team texted me about her parents dying. When I told Ashley, she cried a little bit. I haven’t mentioned the money yet. I have my drug money leftover but this is big money. We could follow jam bands for the rest of our lives, living high off the hog, like Ashley says.

Ashley says … My dad the Pizza King and my mom, Bethany, bought the farm, as the old people say. I called the lawyer and he said I’ll probably get all the estate money. I’ll start my own militant animal rights group like PETA called PIGA. Pigs Improve Goodness for All. Whoa. Did you hear that? No wonder I’m the valedictorian of my class. Freeing the pigs means everything to me. Pig liberation is revolutionary. Power to the piglets. Swine is fine.

JayJay Bone says … I didn’t want to be a ho-mo-sexxxxual anyway. Buck didn’t know anything about my wedding plans for us and wanted to stay in the closet because it would upset his mother if he jumped out. I just wanted to surprise him because I want to go to one of those gay resorts on a honeymoon on that Turks and Tacos island they advertise on TV. Now Buck won’t even talk to me. That’s OK. They fired me at the radio station because of my orientation. The VP says he wants an extreme white-winger on the air to help with Trump’s re-election. They want a macho man? I’ll give them a macho man.  

The Reverend says … The cops are nuts. Betsy’s dead. I can’t stop coughing. My bones ache. My chest hurts. Buck and JayJay Bone will burn for eternity in hell and deserve worse. I know what I’ll do. The only thing better than a gay lynching is an exorcism. We’ll have a double exorcism on Facebook. Stream their demons live. Better than the movie. The power of my foot up your ass compels you. I’m blessed. Praise the Lord.

William says … I’ll shoot Sal and shoot the Rev after that then Big Bob and Vic and Buck. If people don’t start wearing masks maybe I’ll just go back to using real bullets like the old days when I killed all those people in Afghanistan. Stop it, William. Stop it, right now. You’re getting better, taking your meds, meditating, doing the Chinese breathing and stretching in the park. I know what I’ll do. I’ll take a knee in the middle of the street. Not by the Blessed Mother, though, because people will think I’m praying. I don’t pray. I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in anything, at least not yet. But I’m trying.

Big Bob says … Yeah, sure, I’ll take a knee, too. On somebody’s neck just like that brave police officer in Minneapolis who tried to arrest that looter Negro George Floyd. Too many people think the Constitution allows those people to defy authority. Not in my America. Love it or leave it. My America is one big country song about dogs and heartache and guns and guts and beer and rare steaks. Time to stand up for something even if you don’t know what it is you’re standing up for, like maybe standing on some colored fellow’s neck.

Clancy says … Arf.

Buck says … No way I’m coming out. I’m a queer but I’m still a redneck who hates queers. I’ll go deeper into the closet, deny everything JayJay Bone and the Reverend say I did. But I’ll never say I do. Maybe I’ll join the Marine Corps. Semper Fi, sweetheart.  

Chanise says … I have no idea what to do or where to go. Get a Ph.D in African-American studies maybe? Go to law school? Kill myself, too?

Darryl says … Jimmy’s gone. Mahlik’s gone. Chanise will soon go. That psycho William says he wants to be my friend. Riots rage in the street. Fires burn. Looters pillage. If black lives matter, why don’t I matter?

Sal says… I ought to have a truckload of money by the end of June, July if I decide to stick around. Keep playing that bitch, Gina. Steal all her holy cash and head back to Vegas to play poker when the casinos get rolling again. Then I can pay back those wops the dough I lost on all my bets here. Did I say dough? Get it? Dough? Maybe I won’t pay the Godfather. Who’s he think he is, Marlon Brando? What are they gonna do if I stiff him, kill me?

Dillon says… Turn off the light