Catania March 22, 2010
"Silviettina is only by chance (for a pure stramaledettissimo, incidental case) you've seen around the keys of his grandfather?"
"No Mommy, no, I know where I am!"
"Silviuccia why do not you think about it? (Force quit these keys before you choke!)"
"No Mommy No! I swear on all my Miny Pony and Micro Machines do not know where I am! "
"From Silvietta focused, you know that in order to find Granny has ransacked the whole house, then returned in all places where it was, butcher, supermarket, hairdresser, fish ... it is a week that the search ! Poor thing is going crazy! "
"Okay mom, maybe, if I think about it, well, well, I know where are the keys"
At that point my mother took her hand and led her under the stairs, I pointed to a old wooden trunk and told I open it, then pointed to an old shoe that was stored there and I take him. Inside the shoe, wrapped in a plastic bag, were the keys of his grandfather, I have cleverly hidden, with exactly the same care with which a serial killer conceals the remains of a body torn to pieces.
I had four years, the most angelic that a child might have, and I was deeply evil.
Nonnino not used to call me Candy, nor Bertucci, as did the others jokingly to him was "That there" or was "in mind" (mind) that all of her architect, one who plots against him, the one who pushes him to sign the pact with the stroke.
The devil, in short.
It is because now you need to know that my grandfather was always high pressure, such as Mount Everest!
Granny, just saw that hint at any kind of movement, t'apostrofava with this sentence:
"Stop it you make me climb up the pressure!"
was the torment of my childhood echoed in my head worse than songs like "Give me three words Sun, Heart, Love."
All the pressure was rising, but the stillness. But that is its object, certainly not children.
Our interactions were all like:
"Sibbo (L and V does not pronounced in never call me, still is) that I come down from the pressure rises "
" NO "
" Sibbo go slow with those shoes that I go up the pressure "
" No "
" what are you doing climbing Sibbo grapes on the trellis? Come down to me the pressure rises "
"No"
"Sibbo stop wheelie on a bike that I go up the pressure"
"No"
"Sibbo not rush me the salt Pressure
"No"
"Sibbo I do not breathe the pressure rises"
"No, I do not want to die!"
I, who I was just a child ( giustoAppenaUnPo'vivaceMaGiuroSoloUnPo ' ) monkey with a passion for climbing, mica did not know what it was pressure and I thought if there was something that rose so high so I had to find it at all costs and arrampicarmici.
was a tragedy to discover that climbing the pulsing blood was not feasible thing.
Nonnino obviously not limited only to blame, after that, and after being victimized to no avail because the undersigned, as the daughter of Satan, he rubbed his pressure, he took out the artillery heavy.
His nineteenth-century educational methods had something momentous and exhilarating.
To make you stop doing what you were doing the hands he used to tie you to the entrance gate of the house. The world took on a whole new perspective handcuffed. The inability to use his hands led to the appreciation of other parts of the body hitherto unjustly underestimated.
I stood motionless, waiting for him would open the damn gate. I was the one who sits on the riverbank waiting for the corpse of the enemy. Nonnino you just put in the car and threw open the gate to my feet menacingly approached the flower beds that he cared so lovingly.
time he made the turn and I had all the beheaded his beloved flowers. All.
satisfaction.
Our relationship was based for years to the logic of "Who makes the issues."
"Sibbo where my cartons of cigarettes?"
"In the tank Granny!" (Satanic grin)
"For you have Nonnino all over the barbed wire around the trellis grapes? "
" So we do not climb "(evil grin)
" Nonnino barbed wire is gone, I removed everything! "
"Have you taken out? It is not possible, I stuck tightly with the pliers. "(Evil grin)
" You and I removed it with his hands "(satanic grin).
"Grace, your daughter, that there, has removed the barbed wire with hands, as he did? How? How?
followed a quarter of an hour when Nonnino struggling up and down the house yelling at me and wondering how to make ten tiny fingers to win it on the grip of pliers.
"Sibbo where are my shoes?"
"In the closet Nonnino (attached with adhesive to the floor)"
Nonnino went into the closet, he found the shoes precisely where he had left, in front of the stool where he sat for wear. She did not notice that the demon nephew had celebrated the marriage of the sole and the floor and was inextricably linked with the glue. Stockings, then made to advance the first step. His feet were glued, he lost his balance and banged his head with the shelf in front of him so strong but so strong that I thought of him groggy for the rest of his days and that never bothered m'avrebbe .
"Grace, your daughter in mind, my shoes stuck to the glue, look what I got myself in the head! Get the alcohol! "
seemed that I had always I won. Seemed.
Why revenge is a dish best served cold. Everybody knows that.
So on a hot August afternoon when I had a fever so high that perhaps someone who was so high I had wanted to punish my devilish, little man appeared at my bedside with inside a cardboard box with an adorable yellow chick.
Nonnino and I thought that I could finally sign an armistice to peace.
Yellow Chick became my favorite playmate for the duration of fever, and beyond. When he began to take on the appearance of a young and free-range hen Nonnino moved in the henhouse. I went to visit her every day and fed the.
That happy pecked at my hand and thanked him with a sharp cluck!
One day I heard a cry from my room and suffered suffocation.
I got dressed and ran downstairs, opened the door and found myself facing the most horrific scene in which I have ever seen in my entire life.
Hen Free Range, a former Chick Yellow, he was hanging from a tree by their feet, tied with string and her neck stretched almost to touch the ground. He had stretched so much that I thought was the daughter of a chicken ed'una giraffe.
Nonnino had pulled the neck.
"chicken for lunch today," he said.
And the grin was more evil than usual.
Granny, we did not need a chicken for lunch.
We need an exorcism.
And Regan teaches that it is better to be on an empty stomach.
But my grandfather, it is clear, "The Exorcist" is not whether it was ever seen.
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