This is just a silly little story to kill a few minutes at work. I do not own these amazing characters. Please comment nicely!

Young Jimmy Darmody was full of confidence as he strode briskly into the office of the County Treasurer.

"Nucky, I've got it all figured out," the blonde war hero called out, not stopping to notice that there were several other people in the opulent office of the legendary public servant.

"Kid, you need to sit down." The scrawny, aging, yet strangely charismatic New Jersey politician seemed pained and almost embarrassed by Jimmy's youthful eagerness. But the young man just rushed ahead.

"See Nucky, I got to thinking, the reason all our booze shipments get stolen is because they go by land or sea. But what if we used the air? Just this morning, I ran into an old war buddy of mine down on the Boardwalk. Manny Von Richthofen, the famous flier. You remember Manny, right? They used to call him the Red Baron. Anyway, Manny is out of work and I got to thinking, what if we flew our booze into the country by airplane? It's safer and it's classier. Class is important! It's like, I was just talking to my old pal from Princeton, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and he was saying that the newly rich don't want to wait for their booze – they want it to fall right out of the sky. Now we could get Scott and Ring Lardner and Damon Runyon to spread the word, and there's this guy I know, Jack Dempsey, we could hire as extra muscle. And if Babe Ruth would sign on too, then we . . ."

"Kid, we need to talk." Nucky gestured with his clawed hand, and two men in white coats stepped forward. One of them was carrying what appeared to be a long-sleeved jacket.

"Talk about what? Hey! What's that jerk Van Alden doing here?" Jimmy looked around frantically as the two men seized him from behind. They swiftly fitted him with a straight jacket, confining his arms, and dumped him into a chair.

"Mr. Enoch Thompson requested my help as a federal agent in having you certified as insane," Nelson Van Alden said smugly. A giggling Lucy Danziger plopped onto his lap. "For quite some time, Mr. Darmody, your behavior has been, shall we say, erratic."

"Delusions, kid," Nucky said sadly. "You've been slowly losing your grip ever since you came back from the war. Pretending to mastermind that big liquor hold up. Then running off and taking that imaginary trip to Chicago."

"I did go to Chicago! I saved Johnny Torrio's life! They were all after him and I came up with this incredible plan and saved everyone! Then Al Capone invited me to his house for dinner and I gave him all kinds of advice on . . ."

"Kid, none of that happened," Nucky said sadly. "It's just like when you imagined that photographer on the Boardwalk was having sex with your wife. You beat him up and ran down the Boardwalk babbling until Chalky White found you. It's been like that for weeks. You keep saying you want to help out, then babbling about all these famous people who keep on feeding you one amazingly brilliant plan after another. And when I try to reason with you, you start up all this mindless drivel about how I pimped out your mother and stole your bicycle. And how I'm really much too old and skinny to be believable as a dashing ladies' man and crime kingpin!"

"Nuck, hey, I never said that! I just said for a guy who's supposed to be irresistible to women you were looking a little hollow-cheeked, a little malnourished and cadaverous . . ."

"What's cadaverous mean?" asked luscious Lucy Danziger.

"The opposite of you, babe," Agent Van Alden said, in a voice husky with passion, as he squeezed Lucy tightly.

"Cadaverous is a fine word, sure," chirped slender and fashionably dressed Mrs. Margaret Schroder in her charming Irish brogue, resting a gloved hand on Nucky's shoulder. "It means when a poor fellow is looking more like a corpse than a living man. Though I do be thinking it's young Jimmy Darmody himself will be looking that way before too long."

"Yeah!" Sheriff Eli Thompson wasn't very good with words. So he brought his Billy club down hard on Jimmy Darmody's eager young skull.

"Lights out, kid," Nucky Thompson said sadly. "Okay, who's up for some salt water taffy?"

A/N: I just wrote this story because I was feeling silly at work. Actually, I totally love this show and can't wait to see more!