I explored some of this recently, and found, in my neighbor, a community of organized crime. Except all the mobsters involved are ten-year-old kids dressed in oversized suits and flapper dresses, and instead of guns they use coconut cream pies. But they still end dying from them.
I managed to overhear a few conversations in a nearby seedy ice-cream bar. Here's some key snippets:
"We're looking to move at least a hundred kilos, but be careful with these guys. The old boss was a personal friend of mine, but he's not in charge any more, and whoever's in charge now is getting pretty ambitious. Watch your back, and stop by Marie Calendar's on the way, if you catch my drift."
"Last year, I was working in New Hampshire, for a council on commerce. A local industry had been processing the natural gas in Canada, because of lower taxes and wages, and looser regulations there. They'd laid down pipe across the border, when the state declared that it was a mineral import! Bastards. So I called up a friend in the senator's office, and told him, the next bill that went across the senator's desk, to put in a rider defining mineral imports as solids only. Worked like a charm, and the natural gas people couldn't be happier."
"Look, Joey's in jail now, and I think he's going to try to turn state's evidence. I know you know some people on the inside. Pie his face. If he talked to anyone, pie their face too. Joey's a good kid, but let's face it, he's only nine, and they'll break him down. Don't feel bad about it. If he'd been more careful, he never would have gotten picked up in the first place. I don't have a problem with my people doing business on the side, but selling boxing numbers at the same time as he's doing a chocolate bar fundraiser outside Safeway? He was begging for trouble."
I'm worried they saw my face. I stopped by the bakery on the way home, just to be sure.