Jazz Era Letter

A note from the author: "The following is a letter that I wrote as an assignment for my English class last year. It contains a lot of "jazz age" slang, so if you don't understand it, it's not your fault. I don't blame you. Except for YOU. I blame you, Steve."

Frank,

The Big Cheese want’s us to take care of Moe “The Rat” Burton. Apparently, he was drinking a bit too much giggle water at the speakeasy down on the main drag. He thought he was a real cake eater and started messing with one of the Boss’s girls. This, for obvious reasons, rubbed the Boss the wrong way, even if it is just some Dumb Dora. So he wants us to take care of things for him. He suggested that “The Rat” get pinched at his favorite restaurant, a real ritzy place.

Personally, I think we should just bump him off, I mean, what’s difference? Besides, according to Slim, The Rat has hired a couple of hard boiled torpedoes to protect him. I guess these guys are the Real McCoy. Knowing Slim though, they’re probably nothing more than a couple drugstore cowboys trying to gyp Rat into paying ‘em. I say we walk right in, tell ‘em to scram, and get The Rat before he knows what hit him. Tell you one thing though, something about this job is already giving me the heebie-jeebies. Maybe I’m all wet, but something seems fishy. It’s your call. If you decide to take the job, I’ll meet you at Old Joe’s on

12th street

tomorrow, three o’ clock.