Read Online Bugsy Malone by Alan Parker - Free Book Online

decorating his troops after a victory. One by one they took their flowers, and received a hearty handshake.
    â€œBronx Charlie... Laughing Boy... Shoulders... Yonkers... Benny Lee,” Dan smiled, but strangely he made a point of missing Doodle, who stood sandwiched between Shoulders and Yonkers. Doodle stood there a little surprised. He stared down at his empty hand and was not quite sure why he’d been left out. He gulped heavily, and the sweat beads on his forehead multiplied tenfold as he summoned the necessary courage that would allow him to cough up a few words.
    Dan continued his speech of praise for the rest of the gang.
    â€œAny moment now, Fat Sam will be crawling on his knees to me.”
    They all nodded in agreement, except for Doodle who was still a little behind the others. He spoke. “What about my flower, Boss?”
    Dan made a point of ignoring Doodle’s squeaky plea. But the rest of the gang were well aware of what was happening, and already they were eyeing Doodle with more than a little pity. Dan said, “Yes, soon all Fat Sam will have is the suit he stands up in and a suitcase full of memories.”
    Doodle cleared his throat and tried again. “Er... I don’t have a flower, Boss.”
    This time his voice was louder.
    Dan said nothing. Instead, he put down the nasty-looking shears and picked up a silver hand-bell. He shook it without taking his stare away from Doodle. The other hoods took their cue from the ringing bell and moved away from Doodle, who was left standing alone. Unsure of what to do, he looked at his leader, and then at the faces of his fellow hoods.
    â€œBoss? What’s going on here? I don’t understand ...”
    He didn’t understand, but he was the only person standing in that glass conservatory who didn’t. It was so evident what was going to happen that even the Russian vines could have told him – if they spoke English. The English butler, who, incidentally, was certain he was the only person who could speak English, came in with a tray of immaculate custard pies. He put them down on a bamboo cane table and made a somewhat showy exit backwards through the doors. Dandy Dan took a pie from the tray and turned to Doodle.
    â€œYou goofed, Doodle. You dropped the gun. I don’t allow mistakes in this outfit. ’Cause mistakes put us all in the caboose – and Sing Sing ain’t my style.”
    Doodle finally got the message. He was dumb, but the coin had dropped and he was aware of his predicament for the first time. He sweated so much that his spectacles steamed up.
    Taking their cue from Dandy Dan, the other hoods each took a custard pie from the tray. They hadn’t taken any orders to do so, it was an unsaid thing between then. Dandy Dan had told them everything by his disapproving, darting eyes that stared at Doodle, dissecting him limb by limb. They all advanced towards Doodle, who started to back away. He let out a last, desperate squeak.
    â€œNo, Boss, not that. I didn’t mean to drop the gun, honest I didn’t. It just kind of slipped out of my hands... any guy can make a mistake.”
    He kicked over a potted plant as he made his clumsy retreated. Dan was in no mood to trade words with Doodle. He spat out the final judgement with great contempt.
    â€œButton your lip, Doodle. You’re all washed up.”
    Doodle was flabbergasted.
    â€œBut, Boss – give a guy a break, won’t you?”
    He needn’t have bothered. Dandy Dan had never given anybody a break in his life. A sagging green creeper almost strangled Doodle as he stepped backwards in his desperation to escape. He tugged at the leafy noose, but it was unnecessary because at that moment the gang let fly with their custard missiles. They threw with enormous gusto and great accuracy. Doodle didn’t stand a chance. He looked a neat, bespectacled sight as he lay there, splurged from head to foot, among the Russian vines and