The night was plain as a Bottani.
been years since I wanted to start with an incipit that.
I heard the owl with his left around the house and shake your heart. The old record player working again, who would have thought. It seemed therefore a good time to put on the Masonic Funeral Mass K 477 Amadeus of the divine. The favorite piece from my great-grandfather George Louis Philippe Roncalli. I even had the good idea to hire a vampire movie that I had begun to ischemizzare the first quarter of the ventricle, rather than the Mauerische Trauermusik with surround sound and volume galore. Add to that also this: My girlfriend left me permanently, discovered correspondence with Mme. And this: the play-station was flown into the hands of his grandson scassaminchia. And this: on the pc I did not miss the first version of Supermariobros.
Pacman? you say. No, not Pacman.
Sazio ? I was on a diet for two weeks.
Money? Dismissed with a kick in the pants.
Well guys, I was in pieces, worse than Harry.
I got up at four. As expected, I opened the fridge. Even
Gee, my dog, opened one eye and seemed to curse me for the crash. "Bau Bau Bausch, what the fuck bai at this time," read the liquid in that eye. Fuck Gee, after all the legs and chicken wings that I was sipping pounds of private breast to feed him, also had the courage to look that way. I flashed the thought of a piece of spaghetti with garlic oil and red pepper, freckled face of my dietician. But I remembered that it had not even a cherry color. That dish was not even a cherry? I gave up. I put in the pan 12 mini-hot dogs and me scafai them all. I had the poster hanging in the kitchen of Pulp Fiction, Uma Thurman and, as thin as a plate of boiled vegetables, seemed to look quite disgusted with air, probably because of those mini-hot dogs.
- Fuck you too, - I said.
Stappai also a Bud.
E bariccolo where is it? say the children from the banks of the fund.
Be patient, it will come.
The mini-hot dogs had turned the smart move. Yarns were smooth at the valves conniving and had already taken the first duodenal loop of the fast before the big chicane. They feasted in the colon and lacked only the cutlery. I had returned to happiness, a word without meaning in those last weeks. I decided to
mandare un sms alla mia ex:
Dì a quello scassaminchia di tuo nipote che si può tenere la play. E a tuo padre che l’ultimo passito di Pantelleria secondo me era una fregatura.
Ma che motivo avevo? Rabbia? Offesa? Decisi di godermi la vita e di non farmi trascinare in circoli viziosi e sentimentali. Intanto era passata un’ora. Le cinque. A quest’ora molti uomini si alzano per andare in fabbrica e portare il pane a casa. Le donne invece si alzano per fare più comodamente la pipì. Gli amanti si separano per non essere sorpresi dal giorno. La luna cede il passo all’alba omerica dalle dita rosate e qualche gabbiano è incerto se gracchiare o restare in silenzio per non disturbare la quiete. E io invece I just want someone to break the bales.
I called the first number I had marked in address book, saying loud and clear:
- Alarm clock, the hour of irrevocable decisions has come to completion. One hour flying in the sky marked by the destiny of our homeland.
waited a second, I had done it. It was five o'clock in the morning, eh. After a while, 'I heard a voice from the grave:
- Sigrud? But I was fucking ciriveddro I fuck the burglary at this time of morning? Obviously I was caught, unwittingly, the inspector Salvo Montalbano and unfortunate friend.
- What the fuck you want?
- I called Livia.
- Veramenti?
- I swear. Sui sacramenti.
- E che ti disse?
- Mi disse cose ingloriose sul vostro rapporto, ma che si dava speranza assai ad una tua ambasciata a Torino, dov’ella ti aspetta forse a braccia aperti. Commissà, ma come fai a sopportarla? Ti faranno una statua a Vìgata.
- Speriamo. E perché minchia ha telefonato a te?
- Una cosa a tre, è quello che vuole.
- Sigrud non ti allargare. Ma che ci fa Livia a Torino.
- Hai mai sentito parlare di relazione adulterina con proprietari di scuole di scrittura creativa?
- Ma che mi dici Sgrud? Non è la manera giusta questa di diri le cose.
- Commissario, non mi far parlare assai. Sono cosi delicati. Parliamoci aperto, faccia a faccia. Prendi il primo Attain trip to Turin, I'll be there in the afternoon. I will run to greet a friend and we're all happy. Livia in a special way. We're two big boy or not?
.
Montalbano was waiting near a phone booth. He was unshaven and reeking of cologne. Only his whiskers gave him an air of respectful.
I greeted him and made him quick to point out what would be the first pang in my heart the day. A stone's throw from Central Station, a huge billboard depicting Livia half naked, with a scroll in his hand and below the inscription:
The young Holden is waiting for you. Subscribe to include yourself in the legendary school. Learning to write is not never been easier since we are there with our twentieth-century rules.
A red pepper would have been less of the bald head of Salvo.
- What does this mean I Sgrud?
- means that Livia was sold to the highest bidder.
- And who is he?
- I know, I know. I organized a meeting for this evening. E 'willing to fight in the ring for her. You put it on the canvas, Livia stop doing the bitch, I'll put a lid on it and do not talk about it anymore.
- when I put the rug?
- Tonight.
- And why hold an event in style to make it black?
- so he has decided, he likes a spectacle of it all.
- Sgrud But the last time I fought was for a dish of sardines with fennel that Pepe Carvalho! I had
ringalluzzirlo.
- And here's a pepper fennel gliel'hai dates?
- a thrashing.
- There, see? I knew it.
entered the arena that had made nine. It was a hellish inferno, as it should be.
The stands were lit and a crowd of spectators, rigidly divided into castes, drummed with their feet and welcomed the entry of the forces. Unless seemed excited.
- What? - I told him.
- my heart beats. I did not want
docile and softie. It was time to pull out the nails.
- Oh, but keep in mind when you here the heart beats, beats Livia here ...
- Porcomondo that made me think.
Porcomondo yes. We were in the midst of a quagmire, if we had needed to get us out matters worse at the price of humiliation.
- See how many people came to see you? There is also Fazio and Catarella ...
- Sgrud Oh, there's even my grandfather Andrea Fan Club!
Fan Club was recognizable because it was the only one to stay in the smoking compartment, without air conditioning.
After a while, 'he said - Sgrud, you saw that group down there? Look, all have hand in my latest book, My Life as a warbler !
- Oh yes Salvo. Those come from all parts of Italy. They are the aNobiani. People whose distrust, are worse than the leech. Accustomed as they are to live the lives of others.
Unless it gave me a straight, a greeting to which he would give four stars instead of fixed and aNobiani applaud and cheer, responded with the way that most deemed adequate and appropriate to their status: they started writing all those who commented on a notebook .
Empathy was at maximum levels.
Suddenly the lights went out and left the music Eye of the Tiger .
Someone said: - What raw!
the ring fell a platform shaped like a ship and inside was the team Holden. Piovvero pomodori dalle tribune.
Bariccolo era avvolto in un mantello leopardato di ciniglia. Salutava e offriva smancerie a destra e a manca. Ogni tanto qualcuno gli passava del succo di idromele e lui inghiottiva senza dir parola. I muscoli mi sembravano troppo pompati dall’ultima volta che lo avevo visto e conclusi che erano gonfiati a botte di anabolizzanti. Anche la bariccolessa del resto, vestita di raso dalla cima dei capelli alla punta dei piedi, esibiva molte rughe in meno. Tutto sembrava pronto.
L’arbitro, il vecchio Pietro Citati, cercava di mantenersi in piedi e dare avvio all’incontro. Disse: - In nome di Gadda, non facciamo pasticciacci con le regole. Niente colpi bassi. Il primo che mena un colpo basso s’impara a memoria una cantica del paradiso.
Bariccolo non ci stava. Dante era roba antiquata. Ma il vecchio Citati, con la rigidità che gli era propria, sembrava inflessibile e fece no con il capo, respingendo le sue proteste.
Si fremeva per il gong iniziale. Gli aNobiani misero mani ai loro taccuini, i Camilleriani iniziarono l’ottavo pacchetto di sigarette. Il cronista alzò la voce e disse a chiare lettere che Livia comunque fosse andata sarebbe stata nel cuore di tutti. Salvo allargò le narici e mi disse invece che voleva spegnergli tutti i neuroni dell’ippocampo con un bel diretto a quel tizio, altro che cuori di tutti. Suonò il gong, erano partiti. Il mio uomo si teneva defilato e studiava l’avversario. Barick cercava di meravigliare the audience with an impressive series of pirouettes. He tried to do the moonwalk as well, but unless he was on with a volley of punches in the ribs. Barick denounced the coup and lifted his eyes to heaven with carefully designed to face comedian. Rained the first insults: - Shame! Thief! Cheater!
He was not listening, the girls were on his side on the benches as lookouts and ponponneggiavano Nantucket. Unless I motioned to the corner to get close and I suggested not to overdo it. Barick absolutely did not want to pass from the holy life with a martyr's death.
- I want him alive and well, you just tingle like a bell being stoned. Unless
smiled and nodded made. The crowd was in delirio. E anch’io ero su di giri.
- Scatenagli una demenza vascolare.
- Che minchia dici?
Proprio a quel punto Barick partì col suo attacco, ma Salvo si scostò lesto e fece finire il suo avversario con la faccia spiaccicata sul palo dell’angolo, steso a terra di fronte a me. Gli sputai in un occhio, potevo forse resistere? Lui con l’occhio acciaccato mi disse: - Sigurd, che tu sia il più maledetto tra i barbari.
Citati si rassicurò sulle sue condizioni e fece riprendere l’incontro. Salvo gli teneva testa. Barick chiese dell’acqua. Sudava da tutti i pori come mai in vita sua. Salvo da vero poliziotto gli stava appresso come un segugio. E continuava a ballare attorno senza menar colpi. Barick si difendeva bene, e non si lasciava penetrare. Ad un certo punto si avvicinò al mio uomo cercando di spingerlo contro le corde e di sfiancarlo con mosse e mossettine. Quando colpì Salvo al fegato, dalla tribuna dei Camilleriani si alzò un grido di dolore. Camillerozzo stesso in persona scese giù e si avvicinò al ring. Venne da me e mi disse: - Sgrud, chiamami quel frocio!
Lo chiamai e lui si avvicinò all’angolo, si girò e vide suo nonno: - Nonno!
- Scimunito, che minchia facesti? Mi son giocato cento stecche di MS per te! Più sciolto come un gabbiano devi essere, non un cane di terracotta!
E qui si fermò per scatarrare.
Danny Lemon dalla astronave cambiò registro. Niente more Chopin, was the time of the Mephisto Waltz.
Save those words and the music went down as a blessing. In the third round a right hook Barick reduced to a vegetable and Livia, which hitherto had been quietly put her hand to her mouth. I did the wink and said, with the lip: PREPARATIONS You Take My Breath Away.
the beginning of the fourth round, only a handful of Salvo moved the air but it was enough to bring down miserably Barick the carpet. The aNobiani had tears in their eyes, after all had at least one of his books. Unless he too seemed to repent and collapsed after Cited had solemnly declared the winner. It was time to act. I motioned to Livia that deft like a cat jumped on the ship. I was the behind. As soon as we were inside, Livia took a fake and she shut the oar at the head of Danny, who fell unconscious. I sat at the piano and began to play as the legendary Freddie, the first notes of We are the champions. The whole audience was silent when Livia flicked a lever and the ship is lifted. We flew away. I could see from the square of the ring and Camillerozzo approving. Only at that point unless you notice the scam.
And then, with his last strength he had left, he stood up and shouted with all my heart
- Sigurd! You know who you are tuuuuuuuuuu son? Are you a figlioooooo grandissimaaaaa puttaaaaaa ara ra pa pa pa pa ... paaaaa ara ra pa pa pa pa ... paaaaaaa
END
Give Peace a Chance 
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