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Azzurri Pride
Topic Started: Oct 7 2009, 10:40 PM (305 Views)
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Guy Maddin's favorite A.D.
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
"You know what, Ricky?"

Carmelo Callea leaned back in his deck chair and glanced at his kid cousin. Ricky Fortino was sitting beside him, his head turned to the sky and his scrawny chest bronzing. He didn't give any indication that he'd heard, but he answered.

"What, Carm?"

It was the great summer of 2006 and the three of them were reclining shirtless on the roof of one of Naples' many housing projects, passing around cigarettes. The city sprawled around them, a bewlidering mix of dilapidated wasteland and historical European paradise on the sea. This was Ricky's fourth time visiting the city of his ancestors. The first time he'd been too fucking young to remember anything, but from the pictures he looked like he'd had a good time. The second, he'd been young enough to love the city, sure. He even thought he'd liked the like ten thousand old relatives. The third time, it was getting pretty damn old. And now? He'd had enough of Naples. The city stank of garbage thanks to guys like his cousin Carm, people did nothing but bitch about their problems, and it was just so damn hot.

Fuckin' Italy. It was the only place his damn family ever went on vacation. REAL vacations, not weekend trips to Chicago or anything like that. The other kids got to see Disneyland when they were growing up, he got to go out and meet distant great-aunts and swelter under the sun without even a decent beach nearby. Thank god they were getting out of here in a couple more days and going up to Germany.

Carm was still talking. "I figured it out, Ricky. I figured out what it is. It's your fuckin' hair, Ricky. It just don't look Italian. You look like you're a fuckin' Portuguese."

Carmelo Callea was 21 and drove a sanitation truck for the city. Technically, at least. The "Waste Management" of Naples involved the local Camorra bosses taking huge grants and kickbacks for themselves, then picking up garbage at irregular times and dumping it just outside the city. Hey, why waste good money on landfills and separating the regular waste from that hazardous stuff when you can do things the ghetto way and get massive profits out of it?

Ricky's other cousin let out a shrill giggle. "Hey uh, gotta question. Your mother ever have like a, uh Portugeuse milkman or anything like that?" Ivano Fortino was 17 and finishing school. Beyond that, there wasn't much in the way of plans for the future. Work in Naples was tough to come by, and half the city's youth just odd-jobbed for years until they fell into something. Or got themselves into a gang, of course. Then one Camorra sect would get pissed at another one, and they'd send the new kids out and get them beat up, or in jail, or dead.

Ricky sighed a bit before turning his head towards Ivano and answering. Whatever they were, they were still family, he guessed. "We live in the States, man." he said flatly. "There's no such thing as the goddamn milkman." He turned his head the other way.

"Dude." Ivano sounded hurt. That was a joke. He turned to Carm, looking for encouragement. "C'mon, just making a joke." Ivano giggled again.

Now it was Carmelo's turn to stare over.

"That's a fucking terrible joke."

Ivano fumbled for a comeback and failed. "Yeah, well it's too fucking hot to think up any good jokes."

"You're makin' my brain hurt, kid." Carm snorted.

"I ain't no fuckin' kid. Ricky's the kid. How old are you anyway, Ricky?"

Ricky stared up at the sun and smoked. "Fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Gimme that. Carm grabbed the cigarette back from Ricky and took a drag of his own.

"Whatever, close enough. You got a couple years yet but I'll still put you above 'Vano here."

Ivano turned and gave Carm the finger, causing him to break into a rare smile. He turned to Ricky again.

"Man, I was his age, I was already driving my first truck and getting my first shipments from Ieluzzi. And you ain't driving no truck, Ivano, cause you can't drive and I don't want you making me look stupid." He dismissed the teen before he could get an answer back, then looked at Ricky again and changed the subject. "When are you guys heading to Germany, anyway?"

Ricky thought. "Uh, two more days, I think." It was the big one, the World Cup, and his dad had been planning for it since it was first announced. There'd be about two dozen family members there to cheer on the Azzurri, including the eight of them that'd flown out from Minnesota. Tickets to Italy's games at the group stage, and then they'd be using whatever connections they had to score tickets for the knockouts. Truth be told, Ricky was dreading the whole thing as much as he was looking forward to it. He liked football, sure he did, it was in his fucking blood, but he just wasn't much for going crazy screaming his ass off with like a hundred thousand people, not to mention that they'd be dragging 25 damn relatives together for a week or more. Eh. At any rate, it'd beat sitting around Naples all day for two weeks like the last time they'd been over here.

Ivano still wouldn't shut up, having taken affront to Carm's last remark. "Man, maybe I should move out to where you guys are at when I'm done school, Ricky? You think your old man could give me a job out there?"

"There ain't any more jobs over there than there are here, Ivano." Carm muttered.

"Hey, I was askin' Ricky, not you!"

Ricky shook his head a bit. "There ain't any more jobs over there, Ivano. 'Sides, what would your dear mother think?"

That got a chuckle out of Carm. Ivano's mother was Ricky's dad's cousin by marriage, and with her husband dead of a heart attack and her firstborn in jail for smackin' some girl around pretty bad, she'd latched onto the kid with a vengeance. A pretty fuckin' funny vengeance, at times.

Carm stood up and stretched his arms. "Alright kids, let's get the hell down from here." The two followed suit. "Any more lovely attractions of our fine city you itchin' to see, Ricky?"

Ricky just shrugged. What the hell were they gonna see, the crumbling roads?

"Hey Carm!" Ivano was speaking up, again "Let's show Ricky your new shipment, huh?"

Carm looked pissed off at THAT suggestion. "What? You have any idea how much trouble I get in if I get caught letting you guys play with that stuff? Man-"

"Aw fuckin' hell Carm, you've done it plenty of times, you don't get in any trouble. Look, you got any other suggestions? You want go back home and sit around with the relatives waiting for dinner? Whaddaya say Ricky, you up for it?"

Ricky didn't need to consider. Anything beat heading back to the giant throng of relatives. "Sure, I'm up for it."

"See, Ricky's up for it!"

Carm was shaking his head, but it was pretty clear that he'd been convinced. "Goddamn kids. Alright, let's go."
v6!
G058: Kaitlyn Greene aka Katy Buried - Horse Tranquilizer and Syringe
She Knew She'd Found Freedom - Questions - Fools - Barons - Opportunities - Sideshows - Dawns - Gulches

v5!
G038: Deanna Hull - Replica Freddy Glove - DECEASED
From Sea to Sky -Smoke--Sun--Tiki--Nine--Repeat--Talk--Now--Drift--Hunger--Valley--Fall--Rust--Paper--Heart--Sky-
B023: Jesse Jennings - Riz Action Figure - DECEASED
From Vision to Glory -Vision--Summon--Time--Plan--Length--Sleep--Cause-

v4!
B006: Ricky Fortino - Trowel - DECEASED
B022: Imraan Al-Hariq - Remington 870 - DECEASED
G036: Carly Jean Dooley - VASE D: - DECEASED
G077: Andrea Raymer - Gunpowder - ?????
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