Dinah Mite

Dinah Mite

(In the style of a commercial jingle)

Pop, pop, bang, bang!
The loudest member of the gang.

When the vault needs opening,
just give her a shout.
When you see her spark the string,
everyone get out!

Pop, pop, bang, bang!
The fiery lady in the gang.

A distraction from the cops,
up in flames and smoke.
The cops, they drop, when they hear the pops,
it’s the perfect hiding cloak.

Pop, pop, bang, bang!
The loose cannon in the gang.

But once she fought with the boss,
he told her what to do.
Dinah is no the one to cross,
their relationship is through.

Pop, pop, bang, bang!
Boss will never again harangue.
Pop, pop, bang, bang!
The loudest member of the gang.

For Illustration Friday: Spark

Frau Katze

Frau Katze
(In the style of a Hogan’s Hero)

As ze mob takes over ze city,
up pops a defense committee.
in spite of ze smite, zey take up ze fight,
und vow to show zem no pity.

Hauser Street is ze old lady’s club,
Watch out! Get down! Hind ze shrub!
She’s a pouncing cougar, ready with her Luger,
find another way home from ze pub.

Ze members of ze group all have cats,
wartime weapons, outfits und hats.
Dressed to ze nines, on ze front lines,
defending zeir houses und flats.

Ze Katze Club moves in on ze land,
it’s going according to plan.
When no one is home, zey sack it like Rome,
Six blocks are back in command.

When mobsters just can’t be coerced,
zey know how to make zem disperse.
Zey get zem all sick, brats laced with arsenic,
death by sausage, oh, it’s ze wurst.

Zey won’t rest till ze town is at ease,
and ze city is ridded of sleaze.
Till zen zey strap on ze heat, and hit ze street,
a new meaning to crazy cat ladies.

The Operator

The Operator

(In the eye-rolling style of one-liners)

Just remember, she knows everyone’s business
Even if there is a busy-ness signal.

She once butted in on Judge Atticus‘ secret Birthday.
She used the party line.

The Operator has known the Judge’s schemes for a long time.
He’s a real phone-y.

The Mayor called from bed, under his sheets, to connect to his lawyer!
She thought it was a real cover up.

She’s been hearing the butcher, Little Bobby‘s voice for so long,
It was good to finally meat him.

Sometimes they struggle to repair the lines that Sue Spence damages,
it really gets down to the wire.

She even knew what kind of pants “Legs” LaVine wore,
Bell-bottoms, oh, but of course.

She hates calls from the barbers, Barry, Benny and Timmy,
They always cut her short.

Don’t get a snappy tone with her like “Snappy” Walker,
or you just might get a dial tone.

Candy Cane Jane

Jane “Candy” Cane

(In the cautionary style of Rod Serling)

Sweet and sassy is lovely Mrs. Cane.

She lives with “The Candyman” on Candy Cane Lane.

Dressed to the nines in her striped bow and hat,

but quieter than an alley cat and slyer than a rat.

Strolling round town, like she hasn’t a care

then off to her house, “visitor beware.”

The windows are pink and the doors are all white,

but don’t let the paint cover up the dark fright.

All of the rooflines are deckled and shaped,

seems no one goes in who has ever escaped.

The warm glowing lights are a dainty facade,

for this “sweet” couple is terrible odd.

Some say they’re mobsters, and others say it not,

I’d suggest stay away, whatever you thought.

Bea Ives

Beatrice Ives

Honey is sweet and tea is black.

Come on in, darling, have a snack.

Honey, cookies, pastries abound,

sugars and candies can all be found.

Beatrice is the temptress of treats,

keeper of candy, seductress of sweets.

A dollop of goodness from the old honey pot,

Your sweet lovely neighbor, is not who you thought.

Bea Buzzes around the neighborhood,

it would seem as though she’s up to no good.

Cute and dainty and like the sirens sing,

yet do not go near, Bea has a nasty sting.

And unlike the honey bee that may sting but one,

Beatrice Ives is still on the run.

So, though she may show with sweet and snack

watch out, dear neighbor, for the knife hind her back.

“Ink” McGillicutty

“Ink” McGillicutty

Some have said she is a real pinup girl.

The one, inspired men around the world

to paint on planes and tanks, and post on walls.

She seems to be the gal that gets the calls.

For ink, it runs so deeply on her skin,

but does it show what truly lies within?

A serpent crawls, a lion calls, you see

and anchors all about, just like the sea.

They all say she is quite a mystery.

For no one seems to know her history.

But there is no need to ask, spy, or think,

it all is written plainly down in ink.

Many suspect that each confess a crime.

No cases were made, and she served no time.

She’ll be with a man, in town, wearing mink,

next day, he’s gone, and she is freshly inked.

Agatha Finch

Agatha Finch

Slow, Yield, Stop!

Swell, even the traffic is paid off.

Westbound gets privileges over Southbound.

Eastbound just has to wait for everyone.

Twenty clams for a right turn,

your first born child for a left.

Only a sap would think to mention a U-turn.

Agatha directs traffic at 3rd and Broadway,

only the most jumpin’ part of town.

It’s more like a tollbooth than it is an intersection.

Someone gets a little bit of authority

and it takes you seven right turns to make a left.

She used to work at the State Street bridge but

if people didn’t pay, up went the bridge as they crossed.

They nick named her the Bridge Troll.

So, need I say it again:

Slow, Yield, Stop!

(For Illustration Friday: “Yield”)

Sue Spence

Sue Spence

“Shh,” she says softly.

Snappy suspenders skillfully suspend Sue Spence.

Secretly, she steals someone’s stuff.

Sue Spence swipes. Sue snatches.

Sue scrounges.  Sue sacks.

Surprisingly, six savvy spies squandered

six seasons surveying Sue’s semblance.

Sue sidestepped seven strapping soldiers.

She skirted sixteen slick, sly sleuths.

Surveying several surrounding suburbs,

Sue swings, seamlessly, scouting susceptible suckers.

Such suspense!

Thank you, Illustration Friday for the wonderful idea: “Suspense”

Dita Reznyev

Daily Mobster’s 25th Post!

Dita Reznyev

Oh, Darghlingh, listen to story.

Twenty five post ago, we start with man.

This man has big chin, so darghlingh.

Now, here am I, for you, post twenty five.

Put on party hat, and grab glass for you to drink.

Celebrate we should. Silver for twenty five.

I loave silver my Darghlingh, I loave it.

It is, how you say, anniversary for me.

So loavly, Darghlingh.

Kiss and loave from Dita to you.

Little Margie Mason

Little Margie Mason

Sing a song of schoolyards.

You’d think she’s awfully shy,

but Little Margie Mason

made them all cry.

Glue was on the desk chair,

tacks were in the shoes,

sticky candy in their hair,

who should they accuse?

The coppers called her daddy,

cuz teacher’s at a loss,

but Mr. Daddy Mason

was a mob man boss.

So the teacher and the children

put up with her sass,

because Little Margie Mason

owns this class.