Al Tapone drew his flaming gun sword. The Don sneered a sneering laughing frown. "ha HA ha HA" said his lips, rotten. You think that can scare the Donmother!?! And with that Don Corleonehoneehahoneho drew his big mather father gun! It was as long as a tadpole, yet shorter than a PLDT telephone pole. He aimed and BANG!, this sentence was unexpectedly ended with an exclamation mark/point.

Al Tapone dodged a bullet and bite the bullet. Then the hangster gangsters got into the action! It was a royal rumbel in the Bronx like no other; around 100,001 Chicago hitmen rushed forward to meet the enemies, the Italian Mafio, numbering in the tens. Brother was pit against brother, and even their sisters, too. Crowbar was raised against foot fungus, handgun against horse hoof, spears against nuke. It was like the battle in the movie 300, only everyone was using guns and fists, so it wasn't like that at all. Panic filled the streets, blood flowed in the rivers, and children laughed like happy balloons.

Finally when the smoke cleared, everyone was dead. Al Tapone had used his last resort weapon – a resort in Punta Fuego Batangas. When all the gangsters entered to enjoy the amenities, they turned out to be manatees. The manatees employed their deadly herbivorous sharp teet and tore the soldiers apart. Only Don Corleano was alive in spite of the carnage allotted to bare minimum. Have mercy! Said the Don. Luckily for him, fortune smiled with its black-toothed grin. Al Tapone had decided to employ him as a business partner after all. After all, two heads are better than nun.