Brazilian Wax And Staph Infections

The smoke ring

(Loosely based on the stories of Andrea Camilleri's Inspector Montalbano)

Published Downloadable


Palermo, July 18, 1992

That morning the judge Paolo Borsellino was Rapra the eyes with the pinsero it would be to Jorna tambasiate mental ciriveddro I know that the company would do with all jorn pinseri nìvuri, dead. And then the mood would have soaked dintra, as often happened after ammazzatina John.

Borsellino was already back into the office an hour hot.
- Oh, Doctor Doctor!
- What's ...
Chain - there is a man without nomi che voli parlare con vossia.
- E fallo trasire.

Si prisintò un cinquantino con l’occhi spridati e l’aria nirbusa, il giudice lo fici assittare.
- Buongiorno, mi dica.
- Voglio rimanere anonimo.
- E rimanga anonimo.

L’uomo prese a parlare facenno la facci di un picciliddro che si sta mittendo a chiangiri.
- Dottore Borsellino, la uccideranno!
- Chi?
- Non posso dirle di più. Sono troppo potenti, la uccideranno presto.
- Che posso fare?
- Smettere. Smettere immediatamente.

Pure se aviva fattu ‘na colazione ricca, a quest’ora, di solito, a Borsellino ci smorcava un pitittu lupigno che si sarebbe mangiato Macari a wild boar. But this time, no, indeed. His stomach had become like a nico nico acidduzzu. He had not even addunato of fifty that he'd gone out and was greeted by the OS office. Aviva said appuiandola pulled her head back, had addrumato 'na accussi cigarette and was left staring at the ceiling. And pinsari who was going to kill him. And always there were pinseri themselves from cchiù orama of 'na mesata: pissed off the people of Corleone, the country's political class that is changing, that Mangano bridgehead mafia organization in northern Italy, the meeting with the Minister where there was also that of SISDE (the secret services got to do what the fuck?). E Borsellino pinsava e scriveva sull’agenda, quella rossa. Poi li venni in mente ‘na cosa.
Come si facevano gli anelli con il fumo di sigaretta? Non si ricordava mica. Allora fici ‘na prova e mise la vucca a culu di gaddrina, ma nenti. Provò di nuovo con la vucca cchiù larga e niscì fora un anello di fumo perfetto come non si vidiva da anni. In quel priciso istante Borsellino era felice. Ne fece altri di anelli, sempre cchiù perfetti. E mentre taliava gli anelli che si spezzavano quasi subito, si fece pirsuaso di avere capito macari il messaggio che gli era arrivato per mezzo del cinquantino: “Sono troppo potenti, la uccideranno. Smettere. Smettere immediatamente.”

Le sigarette! Minchia, è True, I quit smoking! - And there was a 'na half a laugh, before agliuttire bitter. Smart suffered one between his fingers, the ashtray and stood svacantò tanticchia accussi to Pins this Stramm and sudden awareness.

Borsellino stood up, grabs the carton of cigarettes that he kept stacked in the cabinet and called a chain.
- doctors Behold!
- Keep the Chain, the portal to your brother.
- Oh Doctor Doctor, you are too bono of mind, is that it made me kind accussi commuoviri. I do not know how ...
- Chain, go ahead.

Borsellino felt more free and had a great smorcato pititto. Aviva who had stopped smoking a few hours already and Sinti who had returned Arrè smell. It arricordava Macari smells of her childhood. And he was gana call to mother I know.
- Mama I'm fine, really. Fear? No, no fear. You know the ring of smoke that you stand there taliarlo and breaks away? There. Mom, see you tomorrow that I come to find.



Who's afraid of dying every day, who is not afraid die only once. (Paolo Borsellino)