World-Wolf - (ENGLISH)

Chapter 4

The street where I used to live was a damn smoking sewer like that city where Batman acts, how the hell do they call it? – Gotham, here we are. I have to tell you this thing: every single time I came back from school I met a bastard old from the north who annoyed my psyche. I had never had any kind of problems with northern people. I'm not racist and all, but that old drove me crazy. His breath was an alcohol cistern and he smelled like a floor soaked by whisky and gin. You should sniff that small, or maybe not.

Once mom told me that the break-balls old used to teach math, but now was in retirement and lived with his daughter. I really don't know if he's still alive. I have always wondered if Ippolito - even the name was boring - was in retirement by his own decision or someone had kicked his ass off.

Boys, if you met an old named Ippolito, first ask him what kind of intention he has. Ippolito used to chat like baby who learn for the first time the art of the word.

He came from north, but he learnt well the social technique investigation of the County. The word "Privacy" into the County meant foreign, and foreign - always into the County - meant rejection.

However, I was walking while I was thinking about Russovski Oilman. Boys, when people focus about a certain thing, they are stuck on it. You can't take that thing off from their mind. It works in that way. Mind is a black hole, a fucking and mysterious black hole, or also a Wormhole, if you prefer it. Sometimes you have to add some kind of elite term to show that you know. I have never studied, but I can handle stuffs like memorizing strange words and all.

Russovski Oilman was gone since two days. There was a damn cold. It had always been a puzzle that damn rat's nest. 

Although the County was geographically located in the South and did the race against Africa for who would get first the equator, you could die because of the bitter cold. People there were superstitious. God, how much pressure on my genitals I had to suffer when I saw people praying before to do even a stupid task.

Boys, I should have told you this thing: If you passed by the County, don't tell them you follow a religion outside the Christian one - do you know the Nazi rule: "You shall have no others Gods but me?". If you revealed others Religions but Christian, you might be stopped by a patrol or lynched or God I don't know what. The County dwellers believe and destroy. It was thy way they did religion.

I gotta confess you: God is on my balls. Why should I kneel and pray for stuff invented by men? Same motto for the priests. Boys, I don't have the slightest reason to confess my sins to those devils; they might copy me and I don't want to. My sins have copyright. Do you know, huh, about that stuff to protect a genius invention? Zuckerberg is on the list.

Anyway, the Point is, as I turned into the boulevard the a thickened face was on my way. Boys, that time I was puking all the organs. I wanted really to ask Ippolito why he didn't get rid of his rotten tooth or used some kind of shitty pills to heal the dead breath. But I didn't. The old break-balls stayed into the apartment building where I used to live and when the woman who raised me knew some bad accounts about my businesses, that kind of stuffs used to depress me a lot.

"Hiya, Levi. How are you?" Ippolito asked me clean and all. Jesus, the alcohol jet devastated my nostrils.

"Good" I answered walking and leaving him behind me.

"I am so glad to hear that, so glad. How is it going at school?" Boys, I wanted to die. He walked up to me, grabbed my arm as if wanted to tell me "Come here, little prick. You have to sniff my death breath".

"I gotta go, Ippolito". I said all in hurry.

"Already? And where are you going?" The old break-balls was drunk.

"Do we live in the same building apartment, don't we?" I was losing my patience.

"Yes, we do." He answered starting to giggle like a Lucy cousin. Do you know, don't you, Lucy? The female Australopithecus hominid.

"Ippolito, you have a lousy breath". I was aware once I would say that, the woman who raised me would get my childish remark, but I had to do it. Ippolito's breath was bothering me doubly.

You see Ippolito mumbling. I didn't know what to say. He became as reddish as when Stan did the famous wraths.

I was proud of the act. Screw upbringing and all. When a person has the breath in league with shit, you have the duty to update him about that. If you don't do that, you hurt him twice, but above all, you make a disservice to your stomach.

Oddly, I had a question for Ippolito. It was out of normality that I asked Iron Breath something because I didn't want to meet him on top of a deserted mountain at 3000m of altitude either.

"Have you ever been in Russia?" That was my question.

Iron Breath was confused. "Y-yes". He said thinking about it a little bit. When you foist an unusual question to somebody, you see the person mind in loading phase as an 80s outdated pc. They are accustomed to rationality. I'm not like that. Boys, I like to elaborate bullshits. You should know how many craps I'm capable to create in a daytime. Mom told me sometimes that I'm crazy and that one day I'll be side by side with grandma - her mind is literally fucked.

"And what the hell you can tell me about Russia, except that is alcohol native land?". I asked him.

He had had a touchy reaction. You should see it. Even my grandma would have noticed that him was drunk like a spongy. What a phony! I assure you that like him, the County was full of phony, proliferated. Proliferated, a term that you can't forget for the simple reason that when you say it you feel a giggling into your chest.

"You know... It's cold" - Russia meant Siberia and cold into the County, remember that.

"And then?" I did all interested. I knew I was hoping for nothing. "A step from the ground" of Homer Simpson version had gone in Russia just to guzzle classy alcohol.

"Yeah... In Russia there aren't black people. They don't want them. Like here even though there are a few." All of sudden the drunk had forgotten what I had told to him about his breath.

"Ok. Thanks. Bye". I left him on the back. That old was a real waste of time. Why on Earth you should talk about black people when I asked you about Russovskia?

As I climbed the stairs, I felt a light turning on, literally. It was as if you turned on the light in a basement where filmed those horrors which the main character faked to have epileptic seizures.

The idea, basically, had been made up by a link: Russovski Oilman was feeling good into Sewer-City; thus he wasn't keen to come back in his motherland. In Russia, Siberia and Cold. And so, why was Sergio afraid to come back in Russovskia? Maybe now he identified himself as a different person from us even though he wasn't.

Iron Breath hadn't told me too much about Russia. I could have given a chance to my grandma, though. I didn't have nothing to lose.

Boys, you should meet my grandma. She is still alive. Be prudent with her, though, because if you are cheeky, she can transform herself into that green big man who you sure have watched on the screen. What's his name, I can't remember and honestly, I don't want to.

SPACE's AUTHOR

Levi and his wondering off...

Luca  💙