Because I have such strong ties to all of the gangs in New York City (the means of which I shall not disclose), I am now authorized to bring you this intriguing information regarding a normal day in the life of the typical New York City gang boss or, as the case may be, one of his subordinates.
The gang boss (or subordinate) goes grocery shopping. While in Food Lion (probably Food Lion, because he has to keep up appearances, and "Kroger" just doesn't have that King of the Jungle feel). While buying essential items like flank steak, Pop Tarts, and grey poupon (nothing but the best for our distinguished gang boss), he also purchases a roll or two of aluminum foil. Having come upon a wad of said foil on a previous visit to the food emporium, he is well aware of its practical and economical benefits.
Our gang boss (or subordinate) deposits his recent purchases at his Bronx apartment on his way to the first gang war of the evening. At the same time he carefully arranges his hair (if he has not opted to shave his head so as to facilitate easier viewing of his scalp tattoos) in a messy and threatening manner. He knows that first impressions are important. He puts on his best ripped and graffiti'd jeans, makes sure the boxers are properly sown in, and hooks his suspenders onto the boxers, which rise a good foot or two above the waist of his denim trousers. He then puts his baggiest black shirt with the most questionable motif over the suspenders, and steps into his pristine white graffiti'd shoes, which he glues onto his feet so that as he chases down rival thugs, his untied shoes will not hinder his movement. He puts his biggest diamond earrings in his ears and his heaviest gold bling around his neck. He carefully ties his bandana around his head, and covers it with a hat, which still has the sticker on the flat brim. He places his trusty .45 somewhere in his getup, where he can retrieve it, impressively, at a moment's notice.
Lastly, he takes out two big sheets of aluminum foil and wads them around his fists, creating aluminum knuckles. Since our gang boss is not very monetarily advantaged, this is his alternative to brass knuckles. Cheap, but still flashy.
He then slouches carefully down the sidewalk, on his way to the first gang war of the evening.
After performing admirably in the gang wars, our gang boss (or subordinate, as we are about to find out) hies himself back to his apartment. He peels off his aluminum knuckles, flattens them out, and places the shining sheet over his marvelous gourmet dinner while it cooks. He sits down to watch a romantic comedy while he savors his meal. He cries during the movie.
You may be wondering at his choice of food. One essential thing to realize about gang bosses (or subordinates) is that at heart, they are all sensitive souls with a taste for caviar and cordon bleu. They are also very good cooks. Gang bosses (and subordinates) are insecure. They need to be loved. And so they cook themselves gourmet meals and watch romantic comedies. However, it is also essential to know that none of the other gang bosses (or subordinates) know this about each other. If they knew, they would all get together and have a cookout every weekend, but they don't, so they have gang wars instead.
But I digress.
This is where we transition from gang boss to subordinate, because no one calls the gang boss. He is the one doing the calling, and it would be boring to listen to him call every member of his gang and tell them the same thing. So we will now focus on the subordinate, the lowly gang member. Perhaps he isn't even that lowly. Perhaps he truly is second-in-command. Perhaps he has more bling than anyone, save the bossman. It makes no difference. They are all at home watching romantic comedies.
About halfway through the movie, the subordinate's phone rings. He quickly grabs a Kleenex and dries his tears and wipes his sniffly nose. He lowers his voice a bit. "Yeah," he says gruffly into the telephone. He listens a bit, trying bravely not to sniff. The movie is an emotional one. "Tenth and Main," he says snappily. "Got it." He then looks at his TV. "Uh, can you gimme... 47 minutes? Yeah. We'll jump that clique. They won't know what hit 'em. Yeah. Sorry boss. Sorry. I know. You're the boss. Sorry." He hangs up, because the gang boss hung up on him first, probably because he, too, wanted to finish his own romantic comedy.
Our subordinate finishes his movie. He then peels the aluminum foil off his dishes, wraps it around his fists, and heads out the door.
Newly fortified with a romantic comedy and chicken cordon bleu, all of the gangs fight bravely. There is no decided outcome, but each gang is convinced that it is the winner.
Sometimes the gang members would like some barbecue, but they can't tell anyone. Besides, they like cordon bleu too.