Sylvan Scolnick, aka cherry hill fats, was the largest (and one of the most ruthless) mafia boss's ever. His gang reaked havock in Brooklyn during the 1950's and 60's. Scolnick got his nickname from his 750 pound weight. While most mob bosses did not personally torture or "do away" with his enemies, Fats enjoyed it. He often used his weight to torture his enemies, especially ones who double-crossed him.
One evening, Fats sat in his dimly lit office with a plate of spaghetti and meatballs in front of him. He had just received word that one of his underbosses had been skimming from the family's profits. Fats was livid. He had zero tolerance for disloyalty.
Without a word, he rose from his chair and waddled out of his office, his massive stomach leading the way. He made his way down to the basement of the family-owned restaurant, where he kept his personal "interrogation" room.
The room was dark, save for a single swinging lightbulb that cast eerie shadows across the walls. In the center of the room was a large wooden bench with thick chains attached to it. Fats smiled to himself as he found that the underboss was already there, bound to the bench. Fats was not one to mince words.
"I don't take kindly to stealing from me". The underboss tried frantically to explain, asking for forgiveness. Mid sentence, Fats, plopped down on the bench, crushing his former servant under his enormous ass.
The underboss let out a blood-curdling scream, but Fats paid it no mind. He reached for the bowl of spaghetti and meatballs he had brought with him and began to eat without a care in the world. The underboss writhed in agony beneath him, but Fats was too busy savoring the taste of his meal to notice.
Fats finished his meal 10 minutes later and stood up, looking down at his squashed underboss, shaking his head.
"Nobody steals me without paying for it" Fat's said. As he was talking, his henchmen moved the squashed sap to the cement floor. They tied his arms and legs to steal poles, pulling and stretching him from head to toe. Fats placed his foot on the chest of the underboss, "this is for interrupting my meal". Fats stepped up and stood full weight on on his chest as the underboss screamed in agony. After several minutes, he stepped off. Only to place his shoe'd foot on the side of his head. Fats stepped up, crushing his skull under both feet. "I'm giving you one more chance. Next time, I won't be so easy on you." Fats stepped off, ordered him to be untied, and went back to his office.
Fats knew that his reputation as a ruthless mob boss would only continue to grow, and he relished in it. From that day on, he made sure that nobody in his family would ever dare double-cross him again.