In the mansion's windows, there were already pillows and sheets hanging. Smoke billowed from the chimney; kids were shrieking in the yard, crushing the lilac bushes. The clan had recommenced normal life. The disembodied voice pleaded sadly, "Come on, say it one more time! Say Ciao, ciao, bambino, or else I'll be talking to you forever.""Go ahead! I'll buy ear plugs," the painter replied. He threw the equipment over the wall and headed home, to the sound of the canvas being ripped apart and the triumphant howl of the brats bouncing on the wooden easel.
