that,” said Rosario
“Listen to who’s talking! Which pulpit are you preaching from? But she really is good, no, I’m serious, I mean really good! She not just having sex when she’s having sex, I mean she puts all her passion, all her feelings and more. She says that it’s not the same with her boyfriend.”
After a moment of silence he went on, “She uses Nutella.”
“Nutella?”
“Yup. She covers us both in Nutella and then she... you can imagine the rest. Trust me, I’ve never known anyone like her.”
“Yeah, but what about when her boyfriend finds out!”
“He already did, he's looking for me and wants to kill me. I’m pretty damned concerned. He’s supposed to be tough!”
“You get mixed up in some pretty messes!”
“I get mixed up, I get mixed up! How did I know it would end up like this, if I'd known about him I certainly wouldn't have gotten involved! She is really good in bed though!” Francesco chose the pipe, it was two inches thick, hard and a hundred metres long, coiled around a spool with a four foot diameter. The metal water tank was huge and galvanized; it looked like a fuselage and weighed over 150 pounds. Luckily it had feet to give it grip and stability while resting on the ground. They needed a truck to get it to Francesco's country house. The truck arrived at the highest part of the terrain possible and with the mechanical arm easily lowered the tank into the clearing which Francis had prepared beforehand. But while the truck moved no one noticed a hook from one side of the truck catch on one of the feet of the tank, which lost equilibrium and rolled down the slope, smashed into and knocked over one olive tree first and slammed to a halt on a second bigger tree. Francis was left locked where he was standing, looked at Rosario and put his hand to his head.
“Eh...if...there...had been...someone under?”
Rosario and the truck’s operator were petrified and they just looked, not knowing what to do. Francesco recovered a little and with a chalk-white face, summoned enough strength to say, “Let’s see what’s left of it.”
The tank, or what was left of it was “wrapped” around the tree trunk. They put ropes around the stumps of the tank’s feet and tried to heave it off but to no avail. It was as if it had merged with the tree. They tried with mallets but finally decided that the only solution was to cut the tree down, which, despite not being broken, was in a sorry state.
The operation went on for several hours and finally Francesco commented, “I could've bought it here; I’d have paid 250,000 lire more but probably avoided all this hassle.”
***
When Rosario arrived home, it was already dark. He was tired but curious to see if he had any messages.
“Last night I went out with two friends and Silvana, who’s liked me for a while. We went for pizza at Monreale. The evening went quietly...maybe too quietly! I thought about you all night...at certain points I wanted you to phone. I imagined my speaking tone in front of the others, I called you around ten but your phone was off. I want you to know my friends, not to always have to tell lies about being with you, and I thought of how I would introduce you, to explain how we met and the rest...
I’m really confused about things for lots of reasons...it’s difficult to deal with such a complex situation...two worlds in parallel, running on two distinct tracks. And it’s hard to accept who you are and understand yourself well....I still don’t properly understand my homosexual side, I don’t know exactly what it is that attracts me to men...you’re right when you say that with my friends I pretend to be more male in all respects, and stupidly say “shit she’s hot!” when girls pass...I just don’t do this with men...I hardly ever see a nice-looking man and say “shit, he’s hot too”...or anyway it doesn’t happen as often as it does with women...I’m not really so affected by the first impression of a
“Listen to who’s talking! Which pulpit are you preaching from? But she really is good, no, I’m serious, I mean really good! She not just having sex when she’s having sex, I mean she puts all her passion, all her feelings and more. She says that it’s not the same with her boyfriend.”
After a moment of silence he went on, “She uses Nutella.”
“Nutella?”
“Yup. She covers us both in Nutella and then she... you can imagine the rest. Trust me, I’ve never known anyone like her.”
“Yeah, but what about when her boyfriend finds out!”
“He already did, he's looking for me and wants to kill me. I’m pretty damned concerned. He’s supposed to be tough!”
“You get mixed up in some pretty messes!”
“I get mixed up, I get mixed up! How did I know it would end up like this, if I'd known about him I certainly wouldn't have gotten involved! She is really good in bed though!” Francesco chose the pipe, it was two inches thick, hard and a hundred metres long, coiled around a spool with a four foot diameter. The metal water tank was huge and galvanized; it looked like a fuselage and weighed over 150 pounds. Luckily it had feet to give it grip and stability while resting on the ground. They needed a truck to get it to Francesco's country house. The truck arrived at the highest part of the terrain possible and with the mechanical arm easily lowered the tank into the clearing which Francis had prepared beforehand. But while the truck moved no one noticed a hook from one side of the truck catch on one of the feet of the tank, which lost equilibrium and rolled down the slope, smashed into and knocked over one olive tree first and slammed to a halt on a second bigger tree. Francis was left locked where he was standing, looked at Rosario and put his hand to his head.
“Eh...if...there...had been...someone under?”
Rosario and the truck’s operator were petrified and they just looked, not knowing what to do. Francesco recovered a little and with a chalk-white face, summoned enough strength to say, “Let’s see what’s left of it.”
The tank, or what was left of it was “wrapped” around the tree trunk. They put ropes around the stumps of the tank’s feet and tried to heave it off but to no avail. It was as if it had merged with the tree. They tried with mallets but finally decided that the only solution was to cut the tree down, which, despite not being broken, was in a sorry state.
The operation went on for several hours and finally Francesco commented, “I could've bought it here; I’d have paid 250,000 lire more but probably avoided all this hassle.”
***
When Rosario arrived home, it was already dark. He was tired but curious to see if he had any messages.
“Last night I went out with two friends and Silvana, who’s liked me for a while. We went for pizza at Monreale. The evening went quietly...maybe too quietly! I thought about you all night...at certain points I wanted you to phone. I imagined my speaking tone in front of the others, I called you around ten but your phone was off. I want you to know my friends, not to always have to tell lies about being with you, and I thought of how I would introduce you, to explain how we met and the rest...
I’m really confused about things for lots of reasons...it’s difficult to deal with such a complex situation...two worlds in parallel, running on two distinct tracks. And it’s hard to accept who you are and understand yourself well....I still don’t properly understand my homosexual side, I don’t know exactly what it is that attracts me to men...you’re right when you say that with my friends I pretend to be more male in all respects, and stupidly say “shit she’s hot!” when girls pass...I just don’t do this with men...I hardly ever see a nice-looking man and say “shit, he’s hot too”...or anyway it doesn’t happen as often as it does with women...I’m not really so affected by the first impression of a
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