Shoot me again.

On the Subject of Organ Thieves

Passione controls a lot of things.  In fact, Passione could very well replace our current government.  Passione practically is the government.

We've expanded our territory.  We now have an organ harvesting, trading, and sales division.  I've appointed myself head of it, as managing La Squadra is a relatively easy task. Most of the time.

I'm sure some of you have noticed the masked men and women in the black hazmat-looking suits who prowl the streets at night.  Those would be our organ harvesters.  They'll very well trained and not Stand users.  Chances are, they'll only make you a target if you find yourself alone at night and vulnerable looking.  They're stationed in about a dozen towns across the country at the moment.

Normally I wouldn't be telling you all of this, but I feel it's right. Must be from hanging out around Giovanna...

In summary.  Just ignore the men and women in the suits. If you're interested in purchasing organs for whatever use, contact me.  Other than that, fuck off.

...In other news, the days have been slow.  I've been spending more time with Giovanna, which is surprisingly pleasant. Though I'm worried about him...

If anyone needs some assassinations or organs, you all know who to call.

...Hmpf.  Where is this place?  Where are the others?

((Little Rizzo is like... twelve.  He has a vague recollection of his adulthood, but mostly just recognizes La Squadra.  Oh, and he hates people seeing his eyes.))

Do not eat at the Chinese place by the park.
I got a human molar in my stir-fry today.
A human molar.
And the managed tried to say it was a crab shell.

I am going to kill every staff member there.

Devo, my servant, seems to have died.  That's what he gets for sleeping in the goddamn freezer.  How did he even expect to breathe in there?  Though I should note that the power supply and opening mechanism seemed to be tampered with... no matter.  Ciocolatta, if you want to experiment on his corpse, be my guest.

So.  Is anyone interested in a being a servant around La Casa?  I pay very kindly.

I'm going to be in Sicily for a few days.  Business matters are bringing me there, but I'm choosing to stay a little while.  Narciso is coming for extra protection.  While I'm gone, I'm putting Prosciutto in charge of La Casa, as usual.  You all had better be on your best goddamn behavior until I get back.

I will get Father Pucci into bed.  Someone help me think of turn-ons.  This is a hell of a lot more difficult then you may think.  So far I've got:

Prime numbers.
Christianity.
Flan.
Cassocks.
Handel's Messiah.
Carménère wine.
Heaven.
Power.
White Snake.
Gravity.

So, I meet a Mr. Blackmore.  Interesting man, seems to want Mountain Tim's head.  Soon enough, I get Tim begging me to hide him.  Fine, I say.  He doesn't seem all to grateful at this, so I decide to kick him out.  He get a little defiant and I have Devo, one of my newer men, cut the rope he's thread himself out on.  Long story short, Tim's dead, Blackmore seems to think he's going to kill me for taking his hit.

Blackmore was no struggle.  He went down quickly and easily.  Insanity was his only flaw and his only advantage.

So now I have this interesting little locket I took from Blackmore's corpse. I'm keeping it until I find a use for it.

The moral of this story?  Don't let cowboys into your house, children.

Illuso has failed his most recent mission and has died.

His funeral is this Sunday.  All members of La Squadra and his friends are invited.  Call me for more information.

This is as difficult for me as it is for the rest of you, but let this be an example of exactly what my men risk every day for our group.

Let us not worry about revenge right now.

Rest in peace, Illuso.

Formaggio has left La Squadra on grounds of differences.  Considering he was in charge of my assassins under me, I'm looking for someone to fill his place as commander.

And I'm looking at you, Prosciutto.

If anyone wants to join up the healthy career of assassination to keep our numbers balanced, contact me.

You do not replace a child's memories of sexual abuse because he walked in on you and your junkie fucking.
You do not try to turn me into your goddamn slave with your freaky-ass brain tentacle.
You do not make me spend all fucking night trying to find a better memory-deleting Stand user.

In summary, stop trying to fuck up our lives.

At least I fixed the damn kid and got that flesh bud or whatever the hell it was out.

I need a stiff drink.

Is child molestation the new national sport or something?

Freaks, all of you.

You better show up at dinner tonight.

Nobody bother me unless you want a throat full of razor blades.

I need to be left alone for a while.

Jotaro Kujo fucks fourteen-year-olds.

That is all.

What a day...
I wake up with a massive headache.  It turns out Oye has decided to live in our house again.  I drag his junkie ass outside and fill him with razorblades.  After attempting to sleep more and failing, Ghiaccio gets pissed at everyone and freezes the bathroom door shut.  Lovely.  Once I sort him out, Illuso comes whining to me for... God, I don't even remember.  My favourite bakery was closed, I stubbed my toe on the door, and the massive thunderstorm that has been hovering above our house for about a week now has not even begun to subside.

If I find this is your fault, Wesley Bluemarine, you will pay.

On a slightly lighter note, it seems that Mrs. Robinson has finally decided to leave town.  I am overjoyed.

Finally, who is that kid that's been following my assassins around?  Highschool student, Japanese, stares a lot?  He's got some kind of sick fear fetish... Whoever is responsible for him should keep the freak locked up.

My birthday is tomorrow.
I refuse to get any older.

Our goddamn water bill just came.
Listen, I don't know who the hell is using this much water, but heads will roll.

Deals with the devil, getting killed and resurrected numerous times, more relationship drama than I can count, and many sleepless nights.

May was fun.

...Though I can't say I'll miss it.  I am looking forward to the warmer weather...

And holy shit, someone stop Magenta Magenta from fucking coughing all night.  Ciocolatta, forcefeed him cough syrup or something.

Dear Mr. Brando:

You are extremely disappointing in bed.

That is all.

Bruno, Mista, Giorno, Narancia, Fugo, Abbacio, and Trish.

I really don't have anything against all of you.  You just happened to be in the way.  Very in the way.

I think it would be beneficial to both our parties if we were to make up.

If I've made up with Diavolo, I'm sure it could work out.

...And I'm not apologizing.