World-Wolf - (ENGLISH)

Chapter 5

When I started telling you these accounts, my grandma was still okay with her mind. The words "Fucked Mind" made you suppose a link with a mental hospital and all.

No, boys. Still today grandma is lively like a cricket, but her mind is really fucked. I mean she can decide to be or not to be in an instant. About the mental hospital, it's better don't talk about it.

Some years ago, grandma was a normal granny, then grandpa caught that disease which you forget stuffs and all and grandma made all-in with her husband's mind. Grandpa is dead, from a while now. I used to tease that old boy. He made me smile though. I don't tell you when he talked about sex. He used to tell me every time: "Ask your grandma what we do in the middle of the night". Grandma used to blush and all. Grandpa was rather uneducated, though. He did only six years or something of education (kindergarten included).

During this grandpa's disease, grandma played the part of Red Cross nurse. Boys, you should have listened her. She was convinced that Grandpa would have healed. A doc had told mom that within two weeks, grandpa would have joined the Dead Army. It's lousy to say it, but the old needed to close his eyes. In the last phase of the disease, he didn't play anymore. Sometimes - always - he forgot my name and grandma's one too. Once he called grandma Molly like the hairy and dreadful mutt they had. Milly died the same day grandpa did.

This is the account of the backstory of why grandma made all in with her mind. A little bit twisted.

I knew well that she didn't know nothing about Russia, but I remembered I had asked her something about the war and all. Grandma watched the war. Said like that it looks like a film candidate as Best Film by the Academy Award. 'She watched the War.' What the fuck does it even mean? I have no clue.

Mom used to work all daytime. She was never at home. That asshole of my brother, back then, was an (un)employed at fish market. 

Anyway, getting grandma's home meant just move my ass and didn't do a metro ticket. Not because I was tight and all, but because I had a limited capital. I have always detested those damn stinky and full-HIV papers. They were the cornerstone into the County, boys. 

People didn't give a shit about Constitution; for their point of view there was a unique and immortal article: The County is an oligarchy Moneycracy, founded by cash. The sovereignty is a property of the currency which employs it into the shape and over the Constitution limit.

I am not here to tell you how many proverbs they created for the HIV transmitter – new word added into Levi Minger vocabulary; HIV TRASMITTER stands for money. 

Anyway, I hate proverbs. When people use them it's like they are a damn android manufactured by a Zuckerberg company. It's unsettling, boys, but the dude spies on the world. Maybe you haven't realized it. He knows every fucking secret of millions of people. 

I think that Zuckerberg doesn't go often to the cinema. I imagine him, pop-corn with M&M's on the legs, in front of three thousands of displays reading and watching every single bullshit you send each other through the chats.

Grandma, instead, run away from the tech as if it was Ebola. And don't make the mistake to talk with her about the virus. "Within two years we're going to die because of that illness you can find over there, in Africa." She didn't remember the name of the illness. TV offered her a good education.

Russovski Oilman: that was the cause why I was heading towards grandma's home. Don't get me wrong, but I didn't have a need to visit her. I told you about her 'to be or not to be' state, right? How the hell can I know while I'm talking she decides to not be? That matter drove me crazy every time.