Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

A Perfect Idiot

cal led him a fatso, as in the other case—a reflection that helped me understand yet something else: the social worker wasn’t what he was just because of his bel ly, maybe he would have been the same without it, even after a month of dieting. “The group of col leagues leaves on Monday, there’s a train in the early afternoon, I think.” “Another train?!” I screamed. “I swore I’d never take another train in my l ife!” “I’m sorry, sweetie,” answered Don Vito. “You weren’t expecting me to buy you a first-class fl ight! This is a parish, not a bank.” “But the l ibrary is a property of the Church, if I’m not mistaken.” “Half of Italy is. You going to find fault with that?” “Please! Al l I need is for a l ightning bolt to come and hit me! It ’s enough if you just pay your taxes. I don’t care if you’ve decided to own the whole world, there’s a host of people who want to do the same.” “Don’t pick on me,” said the priest. “You can discuss it with my superiors. There’s not much I do about it, and then, you know I don’t give a damn if they,” he pointed upwards, I didn’t know who was l iving upstairs from the church, “become the bosses of the world, or if they already are!” “Whatever you say!” I answered. And meanwhi le I

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