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M.S.R.P. II • View topic - Tranquillità

M.S.R.P. II

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 Post subject: Tranquillità
PostPosted: Fri Apr 14, 2006 8:00 pm 
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Joined: Fri Apr 14, 2006 3:33 pm
Posts: 60
Location: Frolicking between the Lemons.
I dropped my weight into the comfortable straw chair that awaited me, stretching myself out, bones aching. "Eduardo, pass me that menu, I'm starving here!" I groaned, holding my stomach as one does when gesturing hunger."Pass the menu! Cazzeggiare!" I snapped, the dim-witted Eduardo finally handing the laminated leaflet to me. I needed to fill the gaping hole inside, that walk through town had used up all my energy, and I missed lunch. I definatley won't be doing that again I thought as I prized open the menu, as eager as a kid in a sweet shop. "Ehhh... Zuchinni sticks?" I mumbled as I questioned myself over what I was going to eat, "Ahh! Steamed Clams, with lotsa' butter!" I shouted with an urge of excitement, hoping the passing waiter would hear me. "Eduardo, you go, go, go get that guy tell im' I want the clams." Hunger was building up my impatience. Eduardo was a good, strong man, an ideal bodyguard for an old, decrepit man like me, but sometimes it was as if he was still a kid. The lumbering idiot trotted off, dodging tables and seats to locate the nearest waiter. God I was hungry, and aching. I massaged my legs, stretching them out on the cobble-stone floor beneath. Delving my hand deep into the breast pocket of my loosely fitting button up shirt I retrieved my cigar tin. Placing the tin on the table next me I carefully picked out a cigar, a Romeo y Julieta Aniversario, "Nothing but the best for the best." I chuckled to myself as I clamped it between my jaws. Carefully striking a match I puffed continuously as the plumes of smoke filled the surrounding area. Eduardo was still not back, Idiot probably fell into the sea.. I thought to myself, blowing out the match and plugging my mouth with the fat tobacco stick.

The scenery before me was perfect, a testamony to Sicily. I was sitting outside a cafe situated at a vacant part of the port (no obstructions like ships etc.), intentionally, I was meant to be here a few hours or so before, the walk from the hills wasn't as swift as I had planned. I sank into the chair, tobacco smoke rolling across my face and into the wind, what a beautiful place my homeland is I thought to myself. Holding the cigar tightly between my teeth I removed my glasses, cleaning them with the bottom of my shirt, I wanted to see the view in its entirety. Perching the heavy frames back onto my face I gazed at the crystal blue sea glinting in the sharp sun. In the distance, off-shore islands shadowed in the horizon, and rocks moulded into gorgeous patterns by erosion poked up from the water. The occasional boat or tourist vessel blocked the view, but that was only to be expected. To the right I could see more hills, ending at cliffs looking down at gold sandy beaches alive with people. The countryside was rich and lush in vegetation and wildlife - vineyards, crops, farmers lived well in Palermo. My mind slipped away into the tranquillità of my vision, background noise of talkative cafe-goers and pedestrians disappearing, my eyes slowly coming to a close. I lifted my legs up onto the table, my sandle adorned feet waving to passers-by. The cigar sunk low in my mouth, continuing to send plumes high into the air. "Sleeptime.." I mumbled drowsily, the walk had obviously drained me and my body was telling me I needed some re-generation time; no matter my current state of hunger. The warm, salty sea air swirled around me, aiding me in my relaxation, although I didn't really need it - at fifty-nine you can fall asleep on a whim. 3, 2, 1, I was off to never never land, and no, not the ranch.

Fifteen precious minutes passed until I was roused by the moron who had been assigned to me everyday for the past five years. At fifty-nine years old, who was I a target for? My Siciliana Famigalia days where over, but still 'The Brain' persisted in partnering me with a bodyguard. The awakening was just another notch added to the stick of I fucking hate having a bodyguard. "Ahh, Jesus Christ! I was sleepin' Eduardo! Un figlio di puttana!" I snapped, his child-like mug coming into view as my eyes opened, his hand furiously shaking me. "But, b..ut, Clams." Eduardo uttered, scared at my vicious outburst, pointing at a mound of clams steaming at the table next to me. Immeadiatley my hunger was back, and it was as painful and yearning as ever. My anger left me, replaced by greed and lust. I threw the spent cigar from my mouth, wiping flakes of ash from my collar. Grabbing the chair beneath me I shuffled closer to the table, the intoxicating smell of the seafood streaming through my nose. I then, without any hesitation, dived into the pot. "THE most delicious clams I've ever had." I smiled, rubbing my out-streched belly as I stood up from straw seat, my legs almost buckling; my muscles were still suffering from the punishing walk through town."Comon' Eduardo, back home." I groaned, my voice coarse and gritty as always. The smoking didn't help it, but when you've been dedicated to something for thirty-nine years, why stop now? Eduardo aided me in walking for a bit while my muscles got used to this 'strenuous' excercise, until I found a payphone.

Hobbling into a nearby booth a taxi was the first thing on my mind, the euro slid into the slot as I punched in the number for Uncle Benissimo's Cabbie Service. It was time for home, to get some deserved rest and reminisce on the pain and hunger caused by me trying to act youthful. Never again, I noted, was I to try a long walk down through town. Never.

______________
Notes:
Just an experiment with the first-person.


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