I understand Chester the Cheetah. You found paradise in America, you founded Hot Cheetos, you made a good living. The police protected your Cheetos and there were courts of law. You didn't need a friend like me. But, now you come to me, and you say: "Don Cheeto, give me justice." But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me Godfather. Instead, you come into my house on the day my new flavor of Cheetos are to be released, and you ask me to do murder for money. If you'd come to me in friendship, then that scum that stole your Cheetos would be suffering this very day. And if by chance an honest Cheetah like yourself should make enemies, then they would become my enemies. And then they would fear you.