Pam! Pam!
'' fuck '.
Stefano De Vito turned away part, rolling between the sheets
messy and holding his head in his hands. He pressed his palms against the strong
eyes. Pem
! Pa-Pam!
took the pillow and put it under his head. It seemed that someone
themselves by inflating a basketball in his skull. And his ears
buzzed like a swarm of hornets. Pem
! Pam! Pam! Pa-Pa-Pa-Pam!
"Enough!"
not remember having eaten the entire load of a cement mixer,
the night before, but felt four hundred pounds of sand and lime in the mouth.
He had drunk a little bit, that yes, how bad of a six
English beer at room temperature, a remnant of Trebbiano, then
four scotch down Poison. About eleven o'clock began to engage
not bad, and had big plans for the evening, when the bar entered the
blonde. It was a pretty sandals, you should have seen that small tits,
all out, cone, eh guys, a trifoletta seventeen, eighteen,
class, but there is this one from Poison? It was quickly put his hand
right on the package, it was a conditioned reflex, we could not do anything, how many times
had told him to Veronica? Mica was not his fault. But
his wife knew nothing, and he did not understand a shit. He could hardly expect to
she jumped for joy when a treat so it's parried
suddenly he came from in front and touching the bird, then
was not something so serious, we might have even come over here,
she said. But the time I saw him the night bent over the child to touch everything
, Veronica ran away with the small in his arms, screaming, then that
mica was no need to make this known to the whole building, but he was just a
bit 'tipsy, and he was joking.
bicchieruccio took another just to be looser, and a
breath mints, then walked toward the girl. Perhaps his view
was not so good, or maybe it was already quite tipsy, the fact remains that it had just noticed
the dude who was with her. Occurred a little '
of words and a bit' of commotion in the bar, with the bitch who had suffered
started shouting offensive and stupid things like old shit hold down
hands make me sick, just ten minutes later he found himself
almost without realizing it in the toilet of her apartment, her face under the cold water tap
- and in December quell'acquaccia beige
least it was very cold - and all over his shirt stained with blood, his own.
Sssssssssssszzziaaaah! The long whistle
Razzett became more acute, then a flash of red light
- Pam! - Invaded the residence of Stephen, who was also
bedroom and kitchen. From the street, eight floors below, sounded a
risatella children.
"But as I slept?"
My back hurt, his left cheek was throbbing and the
burned. He also had a burning hunger, as if they were drilling
guts with a peak of four centimeters. Outside, artillery
seemed to have increased the volume of fire. There was preparing the final escalation
, was obvious. He tried the dial glow the alarm:
scored 19 and 57. The last day of the year is made for
be thrown away, he thought.
But it was time to take on that old sack, got up and staggered
reached mobile TV, almost new Siemens 1999, which had won
poker gambling at the bar down to the year before. Of course, it was not a
of the latest models in color, but it was the only object in that room
occasionally surprised to admire a fine piece of furniture made of wood and bakelite,
with knurled knobs elegant ivory gold.
pressed the power button, then stood beside
device to see slots on the performance of the valves in
lighting, dark brown, rusty red, amber, Giallone, yellow ... then the room began
Color ' blue cathode ray tube. The
sound made its way through the valves, but scratchy
increasingly clear. It must have been a Miss Good evening.
"... now broadcast on the first and second TeleCanale National networks
unified and color, the twenty-ninth Speech by President of the Italian Republic
..."
"What a pussy!"
that was new, of course, the red of which had mentioned that other wanker
of Augustus, the description corresponded
especially those lips that were a whole program.
would know how to keep them engaged, oh yes that would know.
"... at the New Year. RTI, Radio Television Italian,
in the person of the Director of Buongiorno Michele Palimpsest,
want to wish all families registered at RTI Fee Antenna
a happy New Year and a peaceful year duemilaedieci. "
Aside from the usual fanfaretta dick. Stephen took the opportunity to light a
TabaccoPopolare. He inhaled a mouthful of oily smoke,
coughed, and immediately wanted to drink.
He remembered that he had hidden a bottle of Portuguese wine behind the basket
garbage in the kitchen. It was for special occasions, and that was New Year
shit, nothing less than the Feast of Feasts. New Year two thousand and ten!
not come back ever again, ha ha! He opened
the kitchen door, pushed aside the basket overflowing with filth
old, found the relic, took out the eighteen degrees of pure pleasure
in liquid form. He looked up and saw that the cathode ray tube
the Italian flag, which then had a white stripe between two gray stripes, was dissolving
to leave the field to the big face obese President,
classified among the luxurious furniture and fine tapestries of Quirinale.
looked like a sad fat toad. He remained motionless for a long moment, then
rubbed his lips, gave a look at some place beyond the
field of the camera, then the expression changed into a hint of a smile, raised his
right hand front of his face and began to speak.
"Citizens of the Republic, and telecollegati RTI, health to you!"
The bottle was covered with a greenish patina and appicicaticcia.
Stephen put it under running water, rubbed, wiped it very well with the old
burazzo yellowed, then looked pleased. He turned the treasure between
hands for a moment, then unscrewed the cap and sniffed the
aluminum content.
"... will not hide too long: the lavish New Year's banquet
is waiting for all of us ..."
He opened the jar of aspirin, and took two tablets
swallowed with a generous sip of wine. He took another puff of tobacco
petrochemicals.
"... the New Year, yes ... a day of gaiety and serenity symbol
the incessant perpetuation of life, the cycles of nature ..."
Rutte, put the straw on the edge of the sink, wet your hands under the water jet
and ran his fingers through his hair in slow motion, as much as possible to pull
upholstery tired face. From below came the muffled roar of a monstrous
Raudo.
"... but today is not made a day of celebration.
winds of war blowing over Europe, and the State brother was militarily occupied,
in stark contrast to the last resolution of the League of Nations ...
with its own guiding principles ... "
" Vichy Damn! "
" We all still under the eyes of the dramatic pictures
'entry of the French tanks in the capital of the German Democratic Federation
, until yesterday, free and sovereign state. Berlin
in flames, and today there can be no real celebration, even here in Italy ... "
He opened the refrigerator. He saw two empty bottles of mineral water, tomato
a fossil, a basket with two lemons bluish, a tube of ointment for herpes
and a bag that had the best of times
have contained some kind of cheese, judging by the smell that foul stur
the nostrils. He took the bundle ravine between thumb and forefinger, he ran to the window, opened it
, then gave a nice launch Olympic revelers to the sidewalk.
The cold air in December, coupled with the foul stench, finished it to wake up.
took a long sip of wine from the mouth to remove the rancid memory of
cheese, alcohol, however, began to widen the hole that he felt the
stomach. Automatically moved to the cabinet.
"... the death of the dictator in 1979, this country has known
a long period of social peace and cohesion and economic development. You
since 1918 that Europe does not know the horrors of war ... "He opened the door creaking
, he saw a jar of hazelnut cream, empty
a ground coffee, where he kept the pig ceramic sugar.
But just over a packet of biscuits, tightly closed, seemed to issue a
its brightness, as a gift from heaven.
He remembered that he had bought by mistake at the supermarket who was filthy
Via Puglia, when he began to follow the shelves that
vaccona with fishnet stockings. At one point she had stopped in front of the parade
biscuits, undecided with all that sexy
finger resting on the lips, and Stephen had made the right next
and had grabbed a pack any. Then things started to sputter,
but since that afternoon he had drunk a little bit, maybe he could not
be so brilliant, because she began to run through the supermarket, spreading
homogenized Bimbo, chips and absorbent Potì Tubolex.
'Fuck. At home, then found out that I had stuck in my damn basket
biscuit tin, with all the commotion. He hated them, the biscuits, but
that day, with hunger she had, went very well.
pulled down box: "From the basket of Grandfather Adolf: The Praetzel. "Said the great
written on yellow cardboard box. Below, a biscuit too
gold, shaped like a small praetzel, was about to take a bath in
a cup of steaming milk and white. Stephen opened the box snatching
the upper edge and slipped into the mouth four cookies. Smelling substances
chemicals and plastics. Crunching, went to the toilet.
"... the President closed the Vichy French Gaelle
diplomatic channels and did not respond to strenuous appeals from the League of Nations
. So, today December 31, 2010, on the day of New Year
, Italy has declared itself at war with France,
in compliance with the Covenant of Lubeck in 1988 ... "
The biscuits tasted horrible, but it phagocytes Stefano
another handful. He closed the door of the peeling process behind him, and without leaving
the package of cookies, we dropped the pants of the suit, underwear, and sat on the toilet
. He began to push and voluptuously fart.
The voice of the President of the Republic came weaker
through the plywood door.
"... the country's border with the assailant were closed
Italian diplomats and recalled from office in Paris ..."
ppprrrrrrrrrr brott brott brott ... .... The stench
flatulence mingled with the scent of the chemical
biscuits, mix in a novel. Stephen in his mouth a couple of biscuits.
was beginning to feel quite well. He put his hand again in
box, felt a different texture, drew a small envelope in clear plastic
a booklet containing the orange cover. "The History of Grandfather Adolf
" said the tiny cover.
the reassuring look of an old man with white hair and bushy mustache, dressed in fashionable
Bavarian countryside, watching him slyly.
Stefano, curiously, he freed the little book from the plastic bag. It was a publicity stunt
the producer
of those infamous cookies hydrocarbons, evidently trying to build
around him an aura of authenticity through the life story of the founder
. Stefano began.
"Children and mothers, Guten Tag! I'm Grandpa Adolf of Germany.
all know my delicious cookies and snacks to lick my
mustache, right? In this book I want to tell something about my
long life, and let you know because in my basket leaving only good things. "
The first illustration of the booklet was an old photograph of a chubby baby
.
"I was born in the town of Braunau, in Austria, a beautiful place with mountains sparkling
and fresh air. "
In the second photo, a young man in a suit and tie, posed next to a geezer
part of a city landscape.
"My first passion was painting ... Yes, child, I thought I was a very promising artist
! So much so that my application
Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna was accepted. But
just arrived in the great city was hit by a car.
I had to stay in hospital for almost a year, then when I left, I discovered that painting
not interest me anymore. That stroke of carriage
something had changed in me, children! "
In the third photograph, Adolf already very overweight, in white apron and mustache
blacks, indicating the sign of a shop in Gothic:
"Konditorei Hitler."
"... so I moved to Germany, Monaco of Bavaria, where he opened a bakery
: German and my genuine and treats prepared with care and passion
liked us ..."
Stefano threw the book on the ground, got up, summarily wiped then
always munching, he went back to the kitchen. He noticed that the TV was gone
the large face of the President and there were only a
interference and noise nuisance. Then he heard a hollow sound, very strong. Could not be a
Raudo. Failed electricity and the TV suddenly fell silent, but strangely, the
stay was all lit up, as if it were day. Stephen came to the door of the balcony
intrigued. Opened.
The huge mushroom-shaped atomic explosion, lit up the city.
was red, white and yellow, and was moving slowly, changing into different forms
. A Stefano seemed magnificent spectacle priceless. He put in a mouth
last cookie. Then something strange happened. He saw that the buildings in the distance
were coming down one after another, as in that game
who was a child, the domino.
"Vive la France," he thought, and it occurred to him that the Vichy
by young must have been a great piece of ass.
Someone down the street, was screaming. Everything began to vibrate, and
move, then the shockwave of the explosion hit in full
Stefano De Vito, and four hundred thousand fellow citizens.
'' fuck '.
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