Justin and Charnice started referring to themselves as the Cinnamon Mafia today and they won’t tell you why.
“Is it because…you guys have access to really good baked goods?”
Justin and Charnice laugh and tell you that what you don’t know could fill the Staples Center.
“Is it because…you’re engaged in various prostitution and gambling enterprises and…you like sweets?”
Justin and Charnice laugh and tell you that you might as well have just stepped off the bus from Idaho.
“Does it have to do with butt sex?”
They say no.
“Thanksgiving?”
Nope.
“India?”
Uh uh.
“It doesn’t mean anything, does it.”
Justin and Charnice then show you the scabs where they sliced their thumbs open to take a blood oath.
“Oh my god you guys really are in a mafia,” you’ll say.
“A Cinnamon Mafia,” they’ll correct you.
“Yeah but what the fuck is that?” you’ll ask.
Justin and Charnice tell you you’re a little boy and that you should go home to Mama. That pisses you off, so you drive back to the town where you grew up and ask the boys you used to mess with on the street if they want to start a mafia with you.
“I want to call it The Taffeta Mafia,” you’ll say. Surprisingly, they’ll all shrug and say why not. You’ll tell them that the first order of business is to go and kidnap the captains (and sole members) of the Cinnamon Mafia and torture them until they explain why they called themselves that.
“Second order of business,” you’ll say, “Is gabagool!”
All of your Taffeta Mafia soldiers will jump up and shout, “Gabagool!” Then they’ll go and put knives to your friends’ genitals for a while.
Happy The Cinnamon Mafia Day!
