Sal+the+Salami

Full Name: Salvatore Giovanni Ricci __** ELIMINATED? **__

From: South Philadelphia Gender: male Ethnicity: Rocky Balboa Traits (Appearance): dark hair and eyes, balding, large nose, overweight with "a little more of me to love" around the middle Reason for coming to the park: The letter announcing the trip to the amusement park was really the first thing Sal ever "won" in his life Brief History: Sal is 54 years old, married but separated, with 3 bratty teenage children Anything else (optional): Sal owns a small Hoagie shop, earned his nickname from the smell of meats and cheeses, though he claims it had other origins, and previously filed for bankruptcy when his first restaurant went under. He claims to have had the idea for .mp3 players in the early '90s, and buys into many strange conspiracy theories.

=DAY ONE= "Let me tell you about the time I almost died." Ha! Just kidding. Denzel. //Fallen//. I love that movie. But I will tell you the story you probably want to hear. Everyone does. News reporters show up at my stoop, customers ask me between mout'watering bites of crabby snacks and homemades here at Sal's, even the cop who works the beat from Wharton to Winghocking -- they always want to hear about the time I survived the amusement park of terrors. Heh. I chuckle about it, but it ain't really what you call a laughing matter. Hey, d'jeetyet? No? Well, youse sit down and look at the menu for a minute and I'll tell you all about the time I survived hell on earth.

I guess the place to start is the beginning. I was walking on the paymint outside Sal's, right over... there... see where I'm pointin'? I was down on my luck, onaccounna the closing down of my first restaurant, Maria's. It was named for my motha, God rest her soul. Now that place went under because of some questionable business dealings with disreputable individuals, but le me tell ya, it had nothin' ta do wit the food. The meatballs were deliciouso... and the gravy? Huh. Outta this world. But one thing lead to another and I had to file for bankrup'cy, and my mother passed and I'm depressed and now I'm standin' there -- right over there where I tol' yuz before, and I look down at the stoop an see this envelope with nothin but my name on it. Now I gotta wooder ice in one hand and a whiz wit in the other, so's I put the wooder ice on the stoop and pick up the letter'n open it up.

"Salvatore Giovanni Ricci," it said, I still remember every word, "You have been specially selected and are cordially invited to attend the premiere preview weekend of the bran new Dante's Amusement Park in Shackleton, Ohio. Enclosed is a voucher admitting you to the park and another for your flight. Five-star lodging and dining accommodations at the park are included. See you May 22nd at 9 a.m. sharp at Dante's. Hang on for the ride of your life!"

And I'd never won nothin' before my whole life. An I was down on my luck and everything was going wrong, so I thought, why the hell not? I got on that plane and I went straight up to that park and walked right in through the gates, grinning like a fool, like a real scustumad**'.**

=DAY TWO= Let's just say I started to regret coming to the amusement park right away. And it wasn't just the food, which was terrible. No originality. No, there was something off about the //people// who ran the rides. They had all their teeth! What kind of carnival folk look like they were just golfing? Dead giveaway!

And the other people who were invited to this special preview, well they weren't right either. This one woman, Gladys Jones, I think she was dead before she got there. Then there was this real alto, silver-spoon looking guy who gave off a rape-y vibe. A little alien girl made the invite list too. And this creepy, spoiled little trust-fund hippie artist-type, Wendell. I figured if I was going to be there with all these freaks and LOSERS, I'd better keep a low profile. So I walked around by myself. Checked out the map. Looked for the best rides. Funnel cake. Ring toss. Spoke in fragments. Occasionally mixed in, for emphasis, a compound-complex sentence and basically just tried to blend in.

Now anyone who knows me knows my real God-given talent is winning carnival games. There's a trick to 'em all. For example, the basket toss. You just lean over to get as close to the basket as you are allowed. Toss the ball gently with backspin. Aim for the inside upper lip of the basket. Then there's the milk bottle throw. The bottles used are always made with leaded glasses, making them very heavy. The secret's to aim at the bottom two containers, not the middle or top. Can't forget the basketball free-throw. You have a lot going against you in this game. The ball's over-inflated, the hoop's smaller than regulation and usually an oval shape. And the backboard is extra bouncy plywood! So fuhgeddabout throwing a normal free-throw shot. The key is to use a high arc. To win this game you gotta make a perfect swish, no backboard.

I cased out the joint for about ten minutes until found my mark. The coin toss. The object is to toss a coin onto a plate without the coin bouncing off. This one's simple. You spit on the coin. I made about ten coins stick and took the biggest stuffed monkey they had before the game operator finally //strongly// suggested I move on.

Tell youse guys what... youse lemme stick around a little while and I'll tell you all about how to beat those carnival games. Eh? Not a bad idea with that fair up in Harleysville this weekend. Think about it. I've also got quite a lot of information I'm privy too about some government cover-ups. Want me to tell youse about that?

=DAY THREE= OK, so you wanna hear a little more from old Sal, huh? Well I promised youse I'd tell you a little about what I know. Now this guy I know, not naming any names here, but he works in L.A. in the movie biz'ness, an' he tol' me that the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is really a mass brainwashing experiment the government funded back in the late '80s to raise a generation of men with the specific skills the U.S. military predicted it would need in a global war on terror. I know, at first I didn't believe it either, but think about each turtle and their weapons and skills for a minute.

Like Leo is the noble and honorable one so he uses the Katana, which were used by samurai who lived by a code of discipline, honor and strength. He wears them on his back, just like he shoulders the responsibility of being the leader. Then there's smart and quiet Donny. The Bo staff fits his type perfectly. It is strong and sturdy, but keeps him distant from the fighting, making it easier to think and plan his moves. Those guys who are good with machines can't be up on the front lines. But you know who can? Raph. This guy's violent temper and reckless behavior make him perfect for the Sai, a weapon designed to get right in the face of the enemy and tear him to pieces. Raph is hard and sometimes cold, but he is the best defense the boys have. Just like his Sai. Then we come to Mikey, the baby of the group, who uses Nunchaks. Mikey spins and throws them about in what seems like chaos but is in reality a amazingly controlled manner. This deception of chaos plays right into his personality. Mikey is the small and seemingly slow one of the group. Enemies go for him first, mistaking him as the weakest link. This is not a mistake they are likely to repeat.

So they live by a code, they learn to fight together, they can take orders, they each have a specialty, and they are one lean, mean, ** green ** fighting machine! Coincidence? Hah! Hardly.

I was thinking about the turtles when I saw a man walking.

"Hey you!" I called. He turned around. He was ta ll, stocky, and strong looking, with brown hair wit a touch of grey. "You work at the park?" I asked.
"I guess so" he says. "Do ya know how to leave this place? I can't find anybody else workin' here. 'cept for a game operator, but he didn't know nuttin" I says to him. "I was wondering that myself" the man said, looking around. "With no phone service or a way out... it's like this is a freakin' slaughter house. They are cutting us off from the outside world so they kill us. It's the government, man, they're crazy" I told him. "What's your name?" he asked. "Salvatore, but you can call me Sal," I said. "I'm Michael Estratton" he said. An' then he tole me, in a whisper, "You're right. I was nearly killed by a killer with a knife." "I knew it!" I said. "So what do we do?" "That could be tricky" Michael said. He raised his fire axe. "We're going to have to be careful. But it's nice to have a friend. Two will survive better than one." OK, so's maybe he had an axe instead of nunchaks, but... I had found my Michelangelo. = = =DAY FOUR= OK, so you //still// wanna hear a little more from old Sal, huh? Well I promised youse I'd tell you a little bit more about what I know, and I happen to know for a **//fact//** that mermaids are real. The clues are everywhere, but the government scientists still officially say that mermaids have never existed. Ha! And neither did global warming, //am I right//?

As far back as 5000 B.C., there's documented recordings of aquatic creatures. Now they don't always appear like the beautiful creatures the Disney movies want us to believe. That's a trick, a misdirection, to throw the casual person off track. See, the real mermaids can look ugly, too, just like people. But in 1560, a guy name of Bosquez, who was the aide to the Viceroy of Goa, performed autopsies on SEVEN mermaids caught by fishermen in Ceylon! And our own Henry Hudson recorded seeing a mermaid near Russia. Even the famous Christopher Columbus reported an encounter with a Mermaid. That's right, but they don't put this in your history books, do they? In January of 1493 Columbus reported that he saw three Mermaids frolicking in the ocean just off Haiti. My best evidence of mermaids comes from my own experience. I saw one when I was downa shore in 1992. And look here -- I even got a picture of her. Check it out.

Anyways, I was thinking about mermaids because I was standing by the log flume. It was hot and I was thinking about taking a ride on it, to cool off, ya know? But then I saw this coaster called "Project Z," all creepy and still covered with scaffolding. I climbed in to check it out, and when I came out the other side, I seen my pal Michaelangelo hanging with that rat Charlie. "Wuldja look at this!" I says to him, "I bet it'll be a sweet 'coaster when it's done!" Then we found something... strange. A large crate with a greeting card in front of it. Michaelangelo opened it up and read: //For Micah Estratton, // //Ah, Mickey, Mickey Mickey! You were calling for your friends earlier. So here they are. Tommy and Kate, nicely packaged in a box for you. Happy now? Ha ha ha! // Then, he opened the crate .... and fell to the ground! After we helped him up we ran off and came face-to-face with a creature hanging from a rope. Mikey seemed to know who she was. I'm fairly certain she was a mermaid.

=DAY FIVE= Want to hear a little more from old Sal, do youse? OK, lemme tell youse about the High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program. Now this HAARP group is supposedly a research program funded by the Air Force, the Navy, the University of Alaska, and the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, also known as DARPA. It claims to research the air in the stratosphere, but don't you buy that for a second! What it really funds is a weather-controlling device that can trigger catastrophic floods, hurricanes, et cetera. This is some high-tech and high-level deception! They are using it as a directed-energy weapon, a means of weather control, causing earthquakes and floods, and even for mind control!

They've really just been experimenting so far, but when one of their experiments goes wrong, they cover it up. The 2004 tsunami, Katrina or Sandy, the Moore, Oklahoma, twister. You get it.

Well this stuff is way deeper and higher up than any of the crazy traps our diabolical madman could come up with for us at Dante's, but nevertheless, the sun rose on our fourth day and we still found ourselves trapped. Now I was thinking to myself, a guy with as much knowledge about conspiracies and cover-ups as me oughtta be able to figure a way out of this... to get into the mind of this crazy guy and figure out his next moves before he does.

I couldn't help but wonder, though, why he selected me. If he really hand-picked all of us to be a part of his evil amusement park games, why would he want someone as keen on conspiracies, or paranoid, or whatever you want to call it -- let's say skeptical -- as skeptical as me, there to foil his plans?

And when I seen everyone else getting little gifts from the madman, I wondered what mine would be. But mine never came. And that might have been the answer to my question. I think the killer wanted me there as a nemesis, a challenge, a potential solution to his problem. The unknown variable. An ingredient to add to his chaos.

Well, old Sal knows a thing or two about ingredients, and this recipe called for a little directed energy!

=DAY SIX= Oh, OK... I see how it is! So's youse guys //don't// wanna hear more from ol' Sal, huh? Fine, then. Walk away. I been down before. How about you, bub? You wanna hear a little more? Good. Stick around and I'll tell you about some famous people throughout history who have faked their own deaths.

Now the most obvious one that everyone knows is Machiavelli. He published his plot for a fake death at age 25, to return at age 43. Tupac Shakur also apparently "died" at age 25, but I have some information that he plans to return at the age of 43. Don't believe me? You should pay attention to the Tupac video “I Ain’t Mad At Cha” where he dies and changes his name to Mackavelli.

The video was released only days after his “death.” It shows him being gunned down just like what "really" happened to him in Las Vegas. The truth of the matter is that he is alive and living in Cuba -- just like Eminem has said -- with his sister!

There was also John Stonehouse, a British politician who faked his own suicide by drowning in order to escape financial difficulties and live with his mistress.

Another one was Ken Kesey, an American author who faked his death in 1966 and fled to Mexico in an unsuccessful attempt to avoid imprisonment on marijuana charges.

I know a thing or two about faking your own death. A little bit of everything red in the commissary at Dante's Amusement park was all it took, a little tabasco, a little ketchup, some A-1 steak sauce... and the perfect thousand-mile stare. This allowed me to move freely through the park and keep an eye on everything, try to catch a killer and look for a way out.

=DAY SEVEN= Does anyone wanna hear a little more from ol' Sal? No? OK then I'll just tell you what I saw next at Dante's. Spencer Wright was caught in the Gravitron as it started to move, but Micah Estratton acted quickly and saved him. Diego finally showed up to the game and spent 830-some words hanging out with the killer's daughter. Shady. But the duo did team up with Wendell Carnegie and stumble upon the killer's secret lair. And Casey Gallagher apparently took a 12-week nap. Might've been a typo. But poor Owen Charlotte. She was nowhere to be found on day seven! All in all, it was a pretty uneventful day. Huh heh heh, right. I kept in hiding and took advantage of the freedom to move about undetected that came from faking my own demise.

=DAY EIGHT= Well, thanks for listening to old Sal. It's time we were all moving on, but lemme tell youse guys, I have really enjoyed our time together. Let me sign off with one last conspiracy. This one hits particularly close to home because it relates to death. Having faked my own death to try to escape the hellish Dante's Amusement Park, I know a thing or two about the subject. I learned about this conspiracy while walking in Dante's on the last day of the nightmare. I was moving stealthily, still in hiding. I watched Casey Gallagher crying, hunched over a man's lifeless body. I knew her tears were for another. For Owen. I also watched my pal Micah Estratton fighting off a killer with a fire axe. I saw Spencer Wright becoming a killer, right before our eyes. And then, I noticed, right at this particular point, that I was witnessing things that were happening in two different places... at the same time! Like a dreamer who finally realizes that everything he is seeing is a dream, I began to wake up, coming the realization about what had really happened to me on the day of my strangling. I felt sharp panic stinging my entire body, but then I was quickly overcome by a profound sense of peace and acceptance. I felt my entire being begin to rise. If you'll remember what I told you at the beginning, this was a story of the time I //almost// died. It was, as it turns out, also a story about the time I did die. But there is one difference between old Sal and the rest of the characters at Dante's. I've been there before. Memories flooded back into my mind about another time in a far away land where I was a boy named Jonas, clinging to hope while clinging to a raft just off a beautiful island. I also remembered a time many years ago when I was Dick Nickel, a janitor trapped in a Detroit hotel. So even as I was accepting my death, I was coming to the realization that it was different from everyone else's ending, because I will not be leaving. I will be back again... and again... and again. So it really was the story of the time I almost died.... because maybe -- just maybe -- one of these times I will survive.