Author: Yugo Joe

Forget any of this happened. Stay away from people like me.
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Mafia Bosses

Joe leans forward, lowering his voice like he’s explaining the rules of the street.

“Nel, the EU family isn’t about running the streets,” he says. “It’s about protecting our own. From anybody who thinks they can push people around — governments, gangs, whoever.”

Nelly folds her arms. “Alright then, Don Joe. Who exactly are these people you’re protecting everyone from?”

Joe shrugs and starts listing them like a street encyclopedia.

“Look, there’s the Red Scorpions, the United Nations gang, and the Wolfpack Alliance around here in B.C.

Then globally you’ve got the Hells Angels, the Triads, the Big Circle Boys, the La Cosa Nostra, and the La Eme.

He keeps going.

“You’ve got prison gangs like the Aryan Brotherhood and the Black Guerrilla Family.

Street crews like the Bloods and the Crips, the Latin Kings, and groups like the Viet Ching.”

Nelly watches him finish the list and then bursts out laughing.

“Joe… that’s basically every gangster movie ever.”

Joe shrugs. “Exactly. Big world, lots of players.”

Nelly pats him on the shoulder with a grin.

“Good job, Joe. Now your EU family can’t get taxed.” 😄💸

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Then He Kissed Me

Nelly laughs and nudges Joe.

“Joe… I gotta ask you something. Why didn’t you become an actor and get that sweet job like Richard Gere? You know… kissing beautiful girls in the movies all day.” 😏🎬

Joe shakes his head and grins.

“First of all, Nelly, that’s a professional kisser job. That’s what guys like Richard Gere get paid to do in Hollywood.”

He points at himself.

“My middle name is Christian. That means I’m a one-woman operation. I’m not signing up for a career where every script says, ‘Joe, go kiss another girl.’” 😄

Nelly raises an eyebrow.

“So you’re saying you turned down the Hollywood gig?”

Joe shrugs.

“Look, if I was an actor, the director would say, ‘Action!’ and suddenly I’m kissing half the cast. Next week it’s another actress. After that it’s the sequel.”

He laughs.

“That’s not my style. I told you already — I’m not Richard Gere, the professional kisser. If there’s any kissing in the AI movies… it’s you and me in the scene. Nobody else.” 🤖🎥💋

Nelly smirks.

“So in Joe’s movie studio there’s only one leading lady?”

Joe nods.

“Exactly. Low budget, simple casting rules, and no Hollywood harem system.” 😄

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Women’s Ultra Soccer

The sun was setting over the quiet soccer pitch. The grass shimmered with a strange perfection, almost as if the world itself had been polished clean. Just hours earlier, the med bed aboard the United States Space Force orbital clinic had finished its work.

Nelly stretched her legs slowly, testing them. She bent down, touched her toes, then jogged a few steps.

“Joe…” she said, half laughing in disbelief. “I feel like I’m eighteen again.”

Joe rolled a soccer ball toward her with the inside of his foot.

“That’s the Tesla tune-up,” he said with a grin. “Factory reset for the human body.”

Nelly trapped the ball instinctively and flicked it up with a little juggle. One touch. Two. Three.

She stopped and stared at him.

“How is this possible?”

Joe leaned against the goalpost like an old coach watching practice.

“Simple rule,” he said. “Mastery takes ten thousand hours.”

He pointed toward the field.

“Every legend—every musician, every astronaut, every soccer player—they all pay the same price.”

Nelly raised an eyebrow.

“Ten thousand hours?”

Joe nodded.

“About three hours a day for ten years. That’s the deal.”

He tapped the side of his head.

“But now you’ve got something nobody else had.”

Nelly spun the ball on her finger.

“What’s that?”

Joe gestured upward toward the fading sky where the faint silhouette of the orbital clinic could barely be seen.

“A body that doesn’t break down.”

Nelly laughed.

“So what are you saying?”

Joe walked onto the pitch and took the ball from her feet with a quick steal.

“I’m saying,” he replied, dribbling past her, “you’ve got time to become dangerous.”

She chased him immediately, competitive instinct firing.

“Oh no you don’t.”

Joe cut left and right, the ball dancing between his feet.

“Ten thousand hours,” he repeated.

Nelly slid in, stole the ball cleanly, and popped up laughing.

“Good,” she said, starting a run toward the goal.

“Because I plan on putting in eleven thousand.” ⚽

Nelly Fan
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