Alice Stays Home

Ch. SEVEN My girl don't lie to me

My girl, my girl, don't lie to me
Tell me where did you sleep last night
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun don't ever shine
I would shiver the whole night through

NIRVANA – WHERE DID YOU SLEEP LAST NIGHT

I get to the entrance of the supermarket and I see something I can't explain. It freaks me out.

Loads of people, even more than I saw at the Jovanotti concert in Linate last September. That's where Franc and I kissed for the very first time. (By the way, I wish I could tear off my lips now to erase that memory from my mouth.)

I look at the crowd. I sense strong vibes of spite and frustration. Many are wearing masks, the type you would usually see at the dentist.

It's just crazy.

When I was with my parents in Japan two years ago, I remember seeing lots of people with gloves and masks on the streets. Dad explained to me that it was a hygienic norm and it made sense in such a gigantic city like Tokyo. And I just let go, also because I saw tons of other strange things there. It's not the Empire of the Sun, it's the empire of burnouts.

For example, there is this place, called @Home Café, where girls dressed as sexy waitresses, straight out of adult manga, perform tacky choreographies while singing crazy songs. As if that wasn't enough, the place is so saturated with color you want to tear your eyes out and soak them for an hour to detox them. Meanwhile, they draw your favorite animal with cans of cream and bags of melted chocolate on the pancake you ordered.

I take a photograph of the crowd in front of the supermarket and post it in my stories. I also write something stupid ("All I wanted was a Twix bar") and paste a couple of GIFs with a crying hen and a basketball player screaming a massive "WHAT?!"

I decide to head home.

I wasn't there for a Twix bar, I wanted to do some shopping for tonight.

This morning mum left a note asking me to heat up the frozen fish left in the freezer. As soon as I saw it I immediately thought that I'd rather starve myself to death than bite into that pathetic ocean leftover stuck among rocks of boiled potatoes. I felt like preparing something yummier, like a pan-fried hamburger inside a bun sprinkled with sesame seeds, under a blanket of ketchup, lettuce and sliced ​​tomatoes.

That was a great plan. I told myself: I've got everything, except for the hamburger, the bun, the salad and the tomatoes. Basically, I only had the pan.

That's why I had to go out, even though mum sent me like seven messages telling me to stay home.

I knocked on grandpa's door.

"Hey Bob, I'm going out," I shouted from behind the door.

No answer. He certainly didn't hear me. I shrugged and walked down the stairs to the main entrance humming a Nirvana tune, the MTV Live version (one of my favorite songs ever): Where Did You Sleep Last Night.

However, the supermarket is now history.

I hate standing in line. I enter the small butcher's nearby. It's one of those loser shops where no one ever goes to and, as soon as he sees me, the guy at the counter is so surprised as if the Holy Virgin herself appeared to him. I don't know why some places seem so ill-fated, but certainly the people there are kinder (and each time it warms my heart).