... a night to forget ... The ring is unrolled in una serie infinita di curve e tornanti.
Dalle casse dello stereo esce fuori, digrignante e cattivo, Iggy Pop con Search and Destroy, e il tergicristalli cerca di non concedere troppo spazio alla bufera che s’abbatte sulla macchina. Prendo una sigaretta dal pacchetto, cercando di non distogliere lo sguardo dalla strada, ché quasi non si vede nulla per colpa di questo temporale.
A saperlo prima, che quella stronza di Loredana voleva lasciarmi – e senza neanche un’ultima sveltina d’addio! – mi sarei risparmiato volentieri questa traversata appenninica notturna nel bel mezzo del diluvio universale per raggiungere il suo paesello dimenticato da dio. Dico io, ormai tutti utilizzano la tecnologia, i social network e quant’altro per ridurre al minimo il contatto fisico, e io stavo con l’unica persona al mondo che ancora ha bisogno di guardare negli occhi qualcuno prima di lasciarlo – e, ripeto, ultimo giro sulla giostra, niente!
Tra l’altro, poi, mica son riuscito a capire perché m’ha lasciato?!
Qualcosa riguardante fatto che – secondo lei – non l’ascolto… boh… più o meno questo diceva. Vabbe’, una volta appurato che lo struscio d’addio non there was, I shrugged and I left, because if you look after me I can at least see the postponement of series A.
Provided that the truck in front of me decides to move to let me go! Stairs to the third and hit the accelerator, I move into the left lane and get ready for overtaking, when I hear a thud and the car without my permission, which tends toward the guard rail.
While the guard rail gets closer, I already imagine the crash, the body that fall apart segandomi bones, the agonizing recognition of my body from my, the funeral with weeping friends and the bitch that keeps repeating my fault, if only I had given my flower one last time, none of this would have happened! . I can not even explain how, but I can put the car in line, decelerated by instinct and calm, I'll approach the emergency lane.
The bitch has run save a lot of tears.
First out of the car I already know what happened.
M'accendo a sigaretta e mi preparo alla doccia gelato della pioggia e alla ruota anteriore destra bucata; sbuffo via una voluta di fumo e mi consegno al temporale.
Corro al portabagagli per prendere il cric e la ruota di scorta, cercando di ignorare le secchiate d’acqua e le luci accecanti delle altre macchine, che sembrano divertirsi a schivarmi all’ultimo.
*
Ormai sono talmente zuppo d’acqua che non mi dà neanche più fastidio.
After a couple of times I can and try to fix the jack lifting the car. When I ripped it seems that the wheel is raised enough to the ground, loosen the bolts, mentally congratulating myself on a cool show that in situations like these. Cut the wheel now unusable and I to lift the spare, when I see two circles on fire a few feet from me. I'm preparing the next sizzling machine. But then I look better and I notice that the circles are not a burning car, but a hideous monster with fangs and drool coming out of the mouth hairy.
remained motionless, paralyzed from the beast is approaching in the dark. A car passes, oblivious of me and the monster. Even the monster straight to the car, but when it illuminates it, I realize that maybe I had a little 'exaggeration to call it "monster." At a rough guess would be a Maremma shepherd. I relax and go toward him, for that poor animal must have passed a lot. I smile, trying to make him understand that the worst is over, and that as soon as we put it in the sixth put the wheel on their way to a warm place to dry and eat something. Except that, looking at the foamy drool dripping from the nose of the bulldog, I realize that he is less willing to wait for dinner.
With a sudden leap break out against me, and bit his arm. Only now I realize that I was still holding the svitabulloni and, without thinking, I'll slam on the nose. I get up trying not to think about the blood running from his arm and all the potential diseases that the dog could mingle, because the sucker is already back on his feet. Climbed over the guard rail and I run in the woods along the highway, trying to sow that demon disguised as a dog, but while the foliage of trees shrubs bushes in front of me and parry now covered with scratches and bruises. But the heavy breathing of the Maremma shepherd spurs me not to stop, and while I wonder how I keep running up a starving dog and sente odore di sangue fresco prima di mollare una preda e, soprattutto, quanto il mio istinto di sopravvivenza possa ancora spingermi avanti.
*
Quando esco dall’intrico di arbusti rami e foglie sono ormai pieno di lividi e graffi.
La cosa positiva, però, è che non sento più il maremmano mannaro alle mie spalle. Probabilmente deve aver trovato una preda più docile. Intanto ha smesso anche di piovere. Mi tolgo la giacca e guardo la ferita al braccio; sembrava peggio, ma è solo un graffio profondo. Appena torno in città, però, mi toccherà andare da un medico.
Ho i nervi a fior di pelle, e sento che il passo si fa via via più pesante. Mi accendo una sigaretta e subito inizio a rilassarmi. Sto un po’ a riflettere se tornare indietro a recuperare la macchina. Non vorrei che la bestia sia rimasta ad aspettarmi lì per tendermi un agguato. Intanto che rifletto mi guardo un po’ intorno, e m’accorgo che a qualche centinaia di metri da me c’è una vecchia masseria. Magari mi faranno usare il telefono senza rischiare di cadere nelle grinfie del satana a quattro zampe.
The arbor of the house is shabby, and in various drip water mixed with mud. I Piastroni wooden floors creak with every step I take, and it seems that they must give at any moment. If I had not seen a faint light in one room, when I walked toward the house, believe it uninhabited.
delay a little 'door, which is now really late and I would not break the balls at this time. And then already I imagine the scene: the old householder opens the door and is located in front of a guy with his clothes torn and his face livid, saying he had had an accident and che magari, se potesse usare il telefono, gli sarebbe davvero grato. Non serve aver visto Arancia Meccanica, al vecchio capofamiglia, per pensare che la famiglia sia in pericolo – soprattutto sarebbe in pericolo, secondo lui, la candida verginità delle sue due figliole.
Vado ancora un po’ avanti a fantasticare sulla famiglia che abita all’interno della casa, e intanto m’accendo una sigaretta, sentendomi comunque un po’ più al sicuro sotto al pergolato, e mentre caccio via una nuvola di fumo, mi giro di lato e vedo, in lontananza, arrivare l’arciduca degli inferi, l’uccisore di anime, il pastore maremmano di Belzebù.
M’alzo di scatto e mi guardo intorno per capire dove poter fuggire. Scorgo alle spalle della casa una rimessa e mi ci fiondo incontro, sperando di essere più veloce dell’angelo della morte.
*
Per fortuna la porta della rimessa è solo accostata, quindi riesco buttarmi dentro, al sicuro, prima che le zanne infernali mi si attacchino di nuovo addosso.
Dentro è buio pesto, e la labile lighter light only serves to illuminate my next two steps. Button a bit 'to the wall random, hoping to find a switch, but nothing, so I'm going to walk cautiously, razed to the wall to avoid tripping. Easier said than done. Before your eyes get used to the dark times slap your knees against the most unthinkable objects, so I decide to stand still for a while '.
lights a cigarette and lie down in a corner, get carried away with gloomy thoughts.
When passing a reasonably long time, I decide that the bulldog dark must have been tired of playing with me, it's time to get out from the dark hut and back to the car. I can see in the dark what seems to be the port from which they came to me and we walked. Probably, however, I must have missed the orientation wandering in the dark. In fact I do not know what is what I see, but it's certainly not the door of the shed.
I can not, however, to investigate further, that first one foot and then another lose contact with the ground, and fall in what should be a hole in the floor. Tumbled violently down, hitting the steps. Then, in all probability going to faint.
*
Quando riprendo i sensi non so quanto tempo abbia passato svenuto.
Se dovessi fidarmi della mia percezione, direi pochi minuti, ma non so fino a che punto ci si possa fidare di me, ora come ora.
La buca dove sono caduto è, se possibile, ancora più buia della rimessa. Tasto un po’ le pareti intorno a me e mi rendo conto che non sono dentro una buca, ma in un corridoio sotterraneo. In un punto non meglio precisato I see a faint light, then, not having better options, limping way toward the small light.
I feel sore muscles and the bones creak, but I try not to think about the pain, light up a cigarette and go forward.
Way for a few minutes in the direction of white light, which earns a bit 'at a time more and more space than the surrounding black, and while I reflect on all the crazy night I'm going through. But above all mulling over how to Loredana and dumped me. Sure, I was not really the most romantic person in the world, but that does not mean it did not take to you! M'aveva repeatedly criticized - in addition to the absurdity that the second she never listen! - Do not let go of the emotions. Well, if she says it will.
Meanwhile arrive at a door that frames the light that I was following, and I find myself in a room by the blinding light. Maybe because I was in the dark all this time, but this room seems to me that there is crammed all the light of the world.
As soon as the eyes adjust to the new grade, I see that the room is full of those hooks that are used in butcheries to hang pigs, calves and so on. Are deployed around the wall of white tiles, sparkling. If we use a butcher, sti hooks, I know that do not do business for a while ', judging by how shiny and clean.
I do for a cigarette, but a little 'I'm sorry "pollute" this sterile environment.
Remorse lasts just the time it takes for the wheel to rub the flint lighter and cause the flame.
Across the room is a door, and as I approached us, I think of myself as a character of those who happen to all games, but they did not bat an eye and they go, guided by the expert hand of the player.
never liked that much, the video games!
However, I open the door and try to imagine what to expect once I entered the other room.
*
The first thing I notice is that days off are doing.
The light passes through the dusty windows of the morning, filtering in a row of bright colors standing out the dust in the air.
I have to be inside the house, which of course - in order to listen to air discharged all around - to be uninhabited for a while '. No father with a gun in his hand that defends the demure virginity of the two girls, then!
Something does not add up, though.
A smell that tries to take over closed and the smell of stale.
A smell that takes me a bit 'to isolate and recognize as freshly brewed coffee.
In fact it is a bit 'strange in an abandoned house there is a smell of fresh coffee, mocha, and while I remember the light that I saw as I approached the window, last night. Anyway, I go to what seems to me the kitchen, what a waste that still simmers in the coffee machine is a sin punishable by the loss of the soul. But if one has a cigarette in a tight corner of the lips, ready to be turned on, the punishment may become even more severe.
to see me outside, probably, I would be seen as one of those scenes where the animal cartoon anthropomorphic turn of the trail follows the scent of a paradise that, on time, will not reach, revealing Indeed, as another trap his opponent ever.
In fact I can not even reach the kitchen. Following the trail do not look down and, without warning, I stumble on something soft that you can not distinguish in the gloom, and I find myself down on the floor.
yet another box office hit of the night with a dignity more than anything else dictated by the resignation. I turn to the thing that made me stumble, and I see the hound of hell, the pastor of the underworld Maremma poured fresh legs on the ground in a pool of purple blood flowing from the stomach of the beast. It's a little 'feel like the scene, but I can not feel sorry for him.
decide, however, that perhaps it is better to give up coffee and go away from home and I turned toward the exit.
And I see them near the door, mo 'clothes to.
A man and two girls.
Only that man pointed his gun to defend the virginity of young inexperienced filly. Both the man and the girls, in fact, hang on hooks like the ones I saw in the white room below.
Unlike those, however, these hooks are not neat, but soaked with the blood of three poor, nailed to the wall by the neck and probably left to bleed to death.
Ok. Definitely I must go away from this house. I open the door, but now I will pour out of this guy with a black overcoat and a wide brimmed hat that covers his face. As soon as I see it, he sees me and trims a large plate right under the chin.
And I see all black.
*
I wake up with a generous sun that caresses my cheeks.
If I were the entrance to the abandoned house, bruised and torn clothes and filthy, I would think that everything that has happened during the night was a dream. But I'm bruised and his clothes torn and filthy, in front of the abandoned house.
I want to go away as quickly as possible from that place. I offer one last look merciful rotting bodies hanging on meat hook and I'm leaving.
Only the dog of darkness, before you die, has left me one last trap. In fact, the grass trampled something soft and slimy. I lower my eyes and I see a big shit twisted underfoot.
Ok, it's nothing, I tell myself.
Nothing that a good cigarette will not help me to overcome. Button the pocket of his trousers and take the package.
I open it and take a ...
"They have run out of cigarettes, damn!"
