Wes’s Life

Save Ferris - The World Is New

L A Y E R O N E :
Name: Wesley Charles Baker
Birth date: Decem­ber 22nd
Birth­place: Bal­ti­more, MD
Cur­rently a res­i­dent of: Blacks­burg, Vir­ginia
Eye Color: Green, some­times Blue
Hair Color: Brown
Height: 6?4”
Righty or Lefty: Righty
Zodiac Sign: Capri­corn

L A Y E R T W O :
Your her­itage: German, Russ­ian, Irish
The shoes you wore today: My Coffee Vans
Your weak­ness: Pro­cras­ti­na­tion
Your fears: Fail­ure, Rejec­tion, Loss
Your per­fect pizza: Pep­per­oni
Goal(s) you’d like to achieve: Marry, Open a video game devel­oper

L A Y E R T H R E E :
Your most overused phrase: None, I try to vary
Your thoughts first waking up: Ugh…contacts
Your best phys­i­cal feature(s): Smile?
Your bed­time: Midnight-​ish
Your most missed memory: Going to Greece

L A Y E R F O U R :

Pepsi or Coke: Coke
McDonald’s or Burger King: Nei­ther…
Adidas or Nike: No pref­er­ence really..
Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Once again, nei­ther
Choco­late or vanilla: Vanilla all the way
Cap­puc­cino or coffee: Fra­pac­cino?

L A Y E R F I V E :
Smoke: No
Cuss: Yes
Sing: I try
Take a shower every­day: Yes
Have a crush(es): Had?
Your type: Tall enough, not severely skinny, great smile, prefer­ably older than me
Want to go to col­lege: Yes I did, and I am cur­rently attend­ing VT
Want to get mar­ried: Yes
Believe in your­self: As often as I can muster
Get motion sick­ness: No
Think you’re attrac­tive: Some­times
Think you’re a health freak: No
Get along with your parent(s): Yes
Like thun­der­storms: Only at night
Play an instru­ment: Played the trum­pet a while ago

L A Y E R S I X :
In the past month…
Drank alco­hol: No
Smoked: No
Had Sex: No
Made Out: Maybe
Gone on a date: No
Gone to the mall?: Yes
Eaten sushi: No, I haven’t found a good sushi bar around Blacks­burg..
Been on stage: No
Been dumped: No
Gone skat­ing: No
Made home­made cook­ies: No
Gone skinny dip­ping: No
Stolen any­thing: No

L A Y E R S E V E N :
Ever…
Played a game that required removal of cloth­ing: Not yet..
If so, was it mixed com­pany:
Been trashed or extremely intox­i­cated: No
Been caught “doing something”: No
Been called a tease: Not really..
Gotten beaten up: Well, what do you mean by beaten up?
Shoplifted: No

L A Y E R E I G H T :
Age you hoping to be mar­ried: 25
Num­bers and Names of Chil­dren: Prefer­ably two, one of each sex. I always liked the name Jil­lian, but I’m will­ing to listen to what the mother has to say as well.
How do you want to die: As peace­fully as pos­si­ble
Where you want to go to col­lege: I like it here at Tech
What coun­try would you most like to visit: Right now, Ire­land

L A Y E R N I N E :
Best eye color: The ones that are clos­est
Best hair color: No pref­er­ence
Short or long hair: Long I guess
Height: A few inches shorter than me
Best weight: What­ever works with her height
Best arti­cles of cloth­ing: What­ever makes her relaxed
Best first date loca­tion: Park maybe?
Best first kiss loca­tion: Wher­ever

L A Y E R T E N :
Number of drugs taken ille­gally: None
Number of people I could trust with my life: 7 prob­a­bly
Number of CDs that I own: Own?
Number of pierc­ings: None, not really look­ing to get any either
Number of tat­toos: None, see above
Number of times my name has appeared in the news­pa­per: Hmm, I think there was a rapist in Bal­ti­more named Wesley Baker…

Stole this from Bran­don, who stole it from Ali

Wow, so yeah this weeks swing dance lessons were a lot better. I’m def­i­nitely get­ting a lot better in the East Coast style and feel­ing much more fluid and con­fi­dent, so that’s awe­some. Lindy is still pretty dif­fi­cult but we finally learned more than just the basic. Man my legs really do hurt after all that danc­ing, but it’s well worth it.

For as long as he had been in the busi­ness, he could remem­ber the Bianchi family qui­etly dis­trib­ut­ing their fine wines. He had been told that the Bianchi family was much like the smaller fam­i­lies of the cur­rent day. The Bianchi family had started very small and only dis­trib­ut­ing alco­hol, but they moved into fine wines and fast cars. The Bianchi family had many deep con­nec­tions over in Italy. Family ties and friend­ships that had lasted over twenty gen­er­a­tions. In terms of fam­i­lies, the Bianchi family was rather quiet. No one ever heard of a killing by a Bianchi man.

No, the Bianchi family was renowned for other rea­sons. Don Bianchi was a car col­lec­tor, and all of the Don’s men drove better than any one he had known. The Don’s men drove noth­ing less than a Pierce-​Arrow and more often than not, Mercedes-​Benz and Rolls-​Royce. The Bianchi family dri­vers drove hard and fast, this was how the Bianchi family made a good major­ity of their money. The Bianchi family would place their dri­vers into local races and bet their rev­enues from the wine indus­try on them. Not that the high-​end vehi­cles were proof or any­thing, but the Bianchi family rarely lost a race.

Don Bianchi’s family resided in a butcher’s shop a few blocks from his ware­house. Behind the butcher’s shop was a highly main­tained garage with many bays and many hired mechan­ics. Don Bianchi insisted his cars be main­tained and always glis­ten­ing.

Upstairs in the butcher is where the Bianchi family’s head­quar­ters were located. A frail and thin, but still proud and noble, Don Bianchi rested warily on his leather high-​back chair. His eyes traced his office walls, which were cov­ered in framed news­pa­per clip­pings. All of the clip­pings reported on an amaz­ing driver in that day’s race, how much he had brought in for his team. Under­boss Pera was next door to the Don. Pera had always thought that Don Bianchi was too weak to do what the Bianchi family needed to do. He felt they needed to move on from racing and wine to harder pas­times, like the modern day drugs. Pera was a much bigger and younger man that Don Bianchi, but he had never once thought of doing any­thing to Don Bianchi. Pera would com­plain and argue, but noth­ing ever came of it. While Pera didn’t agree with Don Bianchi, Pera still did what Don Bianchi wanted done. Pera would ensure the men entered the races and that the wine was sold prop­erly.

Don Bianchi’s meth­ods attracted a large amount of polit­i­cal friend­ship. The Bianchi family held many friends in high places. How­ever, for all that polit­i­cal friend­ship, only a few local police offi­cers were on their pay­roll. Don Bianchi felt that too much bribery was a waste of money. This made it too easy for his family. He had almost all of the police on his pay­roll; he could do this easy and relaxed.

The plans were set­tled and the men began to load up into their vehi­cles. The one lone Ford began to drive down the same street of the Bianchi family’s butcher. They came to a stop in front of the butcher and started shoot­ing into the butcher with their Tommys. The Ford then peeled out and turned the corner and sped out of sight. The Bianchi men imme­di­ately stirred and began to arm them­selves with what­ever they had lying around. Don Bianchi took the stairs rather well for a man his age and told the men to settle down and pro­tect their hold­ings. The men began to settle in around the butcher.

A cattle truck pulled up in the back of the butcher. The boys work­ing at the butcher went out to grab the few cattle that they had bought this week. When the doors flung open and out came twenty of his men walk­ing calmly behind him. The boys ran inside, to warn the Bianchi men. Exactly as planned. He motioned his men towards the door and they all remem­bered the plan to a tee. The two men in front both pulled out a grenade each, pulled the pin and lobbed them in the back door. The clamor of men run­ning could be heard becom­ing pro­gres­sively louder. And then: a very loud sound, fol­lowed by the crack­ling of burn­ing wood and the scream­ing of men. He and his men walked in and cleaned the place like they had done it before.

Ten of his mean went to the front to sweep the entrance, they had brought trench brooms. The remain­ing ten men and he walked upstairs. As the turned into the first office, they saw the chair had been knocked over. Under­boss Pera was lying on the floor with a hole in his head and a gun in his hand, Don Bianchi had always thought of him as a coward. As they approached the second office they noticed the door was open and the lights were on. Don Bianchi was rest­ing calmly on his chair with his hands crossed and rest­ing on his desk. Don Bianchi had one request, to die an hon­or­able man. He was more than will­ing to give Don Bianchi this last wish. He took a 1911 from one of his men and pointed it at Don Bianchi’s fore­head. Don Bianchi slumped in his chair, with his hands still mostly folded rest­ing on the desk. The man died with a smile on his face.

He walked out and told the men to finish what they came to do. Each of the ten men took a grenade each and pulled the pin. They ner­vously counted to ten, still hold­ing the grenades’ han­dles and taking their posi­tions in the hall­way. Once he was out­side and safe they all tossed their grenades into their des­ig­nated rooms. They imme­di­ately ran down the stairs and out back. All at once the remain­ing win­dows of the butcher shat­tered out­wards in a fiery explo­sion. The offices began to col­lapse on the first floor of the butcher.

Like clock­work he thought to him­self. They swiftly walked towards the garage. The cars were exactly as the infor­mant had said they would be. Don Bianchi’s Mercedes-​Benz 540K rested in the first bay. The silver paint shin­ing in the dark of the unlit garage. In the next bay was the Rolls-​Royce 25/30, the hood was still warm from a sweep of the neigh­bor­hood. Last but cer­tainly not least was the stark white Pierce-​Arrow Silver Arrow. He sat down in the Mercedes-​Benz, ran his fin­gers over the steer­ing wheel. He turned the keys and was wel­comed by vicious sound­ing engine. He told the men to take the Rolls-​Royce and Pierce-​Arrow back to the ware­house imme­di­ately. The rest of the men piled into the remain­ing vehi­cles: a cattle truck and a meat wagon, he noted those were both good for the ele­ment of sur­prise.

He pulled out of the butcher and slowly drove by its burn­ing car­cass. No one had escaped from that build­ing, all of the Bianchi family had been taken care of. As he drove the 540K down the street, he began to wonder: Who’s next?

Wow, so today started off with get­ting some work done, which is a rarity for me unless it is required. After that we took Derek, Stu, Kiril and Ali to Wal-​Mart while Paul and I headed to Good­will. Both Paul and I man­aged to buy three piece suits at Good­will that mostly fit us. So we are going to look very stylin when we go step­pin. Once we got back, we pretty much had to leave imme­di­ately for our swing danc­ing lessons. Those lasted from about 4 to 7. Right now, I am incred­i­bly tired from all the danc­ing. I hope I can keep this up every week­end.

By the way, if you are female and inter­ested then you should come. We don’t have enough fol­low­ers in the East Coast lesson.