Jenna announced the stomach-lurching truth: mocha chip surpassed vanilla bean as the top-selling flavor at Dresser Hill Creamery. Mocha chip was the local mafioso's favorite. In fact, Don Corleone himself, stopped by to buy a gallon each week. You'd think he'd be an abrasive egomaniac, but the cashiers said he told them jokes that were met with peals of laughter. You see, making ice cream sundaes at the Corleone compound was a quasi-hobby. He always had a gorgeous model on each arm and was frank about his corporeal appetites.
One evening, while ordering his mocha chip, Mr. Corleone had a massive heart attack at the creamery's counter. A man from the back of the line rushed over to assist. He was handsome, articulate, and saints alive, a doctor! Many other patrons were solicitous peering on tippy toes to see if the doctor revive him. Don's white shirt was pimpled with splotches of ice cream and the sight of him caused a child standing nearby to screw up his face. When Don came to and sat up he noticed one of his girlfriends had moseyed over to the bar next door and drank her fill using Mr. Corleone's American Express card. She started spouting a half-drunken soliloquoy about when Don made his way into his Cadillac leaving her behind.
When asked if he was alright, he said, "I need to move into nursing home - my wild days of running around are a bygone era. The Corleone family name has taken a drubbing." His head was filled with transient thoughts of the 60s in Boston, as his bodyguard, Vito the Hammer, shut the door for him.
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