After enjoying his Coffee, Alvin greeted Alfred, the prison warden, then headed toward the edge of the prison island.
Without Bruto, the "prison" felt remarkably peaceful.
Alvin suddenly felt that occasionally intimidating this bunch of Gang bosses was actually worthwhile.
It kept them from acting so recklessly and from constantly tempting him to do bad things.
What was there to see at a Nightclub?
A bunch of people waving around two-dollar bills and pretending to be big spenders.
As a newly minted rich man, why would he join them in their two-dollar fun?
With Alfred accompanying him, Alvin walked onto the prison's Golf Ball course.
The artificially planted grass on the nine-hole course was a little stiff, not soft underfoot.
Alvin glanced back at Alfred, who seemed to wear a perpetual smile, and said with a grin, "We should turn this place into a vegetable garden.
"From now on, scumbags like Bruto should have to provide for themselves as soon as they're locked up here.
"Those bastards live better than the rich!
"These idiots don't even know how many clubs come in a set, so why are they pretending to be upper-class?"
Alfred smiled and shook his head as he walked alongside Alvin. "That's not quite accurate.
"After all, no one is born knowing how to play Golf Ball. That applies to the upper class, too!
"Pastimes, socializing, and, most importantly, the fact that conversations on a Golf Ball course can't be bugged—those are the reasons Golf Ball became popular.
"If wealth and ability are the standards for judging whether someone is upper-class, then the gentlemen who have been meeting here lately certainly deserve the title."
Alvin glanced back at Alfred and said with an amused smile, "Bruto isn't here. You don't have to suck up to him..."
Alfred smiled