CHAPTER 1
was the year 1994, the year in which the priests drank again, and old amavan gossiping. The phone was still not at hand at all, but to compensate for that lack, to date irreplaceable, there was a team of old ladies that worked the best relays pre-war as "the Godfather of the country." All this only Langoria in Riviera Berica because few feet away, camps and campers, a few meters here, the 'urban cluster "that for some bureaucratic loophole was also a city, we are already in Vicenza. For those not of the place is, it can also easily get an idea of \u200b\u200bthe village imagining a long road, houses around the path and the church, which is not a church but the church. As to surround the old village an average of 101 100 inhabitants, In short, you could feel the smell of old still at the roundabout of the highway.
said that it is easy to imagine the monotony of this place. Take an old accident, at 7 seven is going to take the bread, always the same vein, he returns home, breakfast, playing card games at the bar of the church, accompanied by one or two eye shadows and some divine curse. Back at home, argues with his wife, at noon, and woe that is late, lunch. After lunch, nap, for when the children become grandparents, "casino", and then indulges in the afternoon, we bike or walk the hills, with good and bad weather. Here, re-read. Have you re-read? Well, now all the focus and consider that at least fifty Vecchiotti and grandmothers in his career, is mocked in this monotony. Weekly events are the market on Thursday, Sunday mass and the film club on Monday evening, because the dinner, after 7 o'clock not to be done.
It was a wet and cold Sunday in November, leaden day classic, bare trees and a weak chirping here and there, maybe the lure of a little lost. The whole village was crammed into the church, one of the few places where you could stand without a coat. The development continued without any major hitches, but still had not arrived at the time, mostly at the Last Supper. Yeah, you should know that this moment was always the most eagerly awaited on Sunday. No, not some for religious reasons, but because the spectacle of a tipsy priest is a must. Be assured, dear readers, and readers who Don Lino, aka Don Perignon, had a nice habit for wine. So, every Sunday, never missed an opportunity to fill the cup and then drain well in a gulp. Given that Sunday was on an empty stomach and a cup, is not un'ombretta!
This however is another story. Now this was a normal, down to Langoria. The fact that shocked the quiet and monotony of the country was really unusual and unique, as well as blasphemous.
was just a fall Sunday in the church and all are waiting to be over and then take refuge home. As you can imagine all, apart from the gossip that they had to say about the priest, were very sleepy and inattentive to what was happening inside the church. All but the old Hector, who before the death of his poor wife, God rest his soul, had become more observant of the good Don Perignon. The development had taken place smoothly, with some indecision on what to say due to the mouth of the Don for a mixed thirst a bit 'too strong. After the final rite el'offertorio all went whispering to each other of bad weather, part of the "de ciacole" to be made at the bar and so on. The usual speeches short. The priest as always stopped to chat outside the church this or that with the latest news, waiting for everyone to come out. Finally came out everyone, including Hector, who was always the last and if they could enter our Father and changing everything else. Perugino, the seminarians of the parish was lighting a candle, as usual on Sunday. Strangely, the basket with the cheapest of the church was on the altar. Perignon that was in the opposite end of the church noticed it immediately.
"Sa el ghe FAO trash? A Voria understanding won him who the hell puts the gà! dime but you, those guys will be my way of doing things el ah! Pfff, saints, dasime pasiensa the space within that statute, "
" What there is the trash? I want to know who the hell has supported over there! But tell you, these people will mica way of doing things ah! Pfff, saints, grant me the patience I break everything else! ".
said the poor father who went on to say, every Mass, that the basket was put on the table at the rectory so that people could not take the offers. He went puffing down the aisle to put the deals in place, count the money and write it down in the little red book 'accounting. " Approached more and more he felt strange, as if he had a bad feeling. Finally came to the altar and took the basket in hand, not even worthy of a look, as he was furious. When I got up, however, seemed light, almost flimsy. A shudder shook the old and sore back, ice age, a thought flashed his head, leaving an idea that gradually take root, growing, and increasingly ugly.
"But vuto vedare that ..."
"But you want to see that ..."
did not have time to finish the sentence, which saw the worst thing in his life, even worse than the perpetual Josephine in the shower humming "In the blue painted blue" by D. Modugno. The basket was empty, all offers were completely gone, vanished. Yet was certain that the basket was full, because it was an exceptional event, they were stingy old community.
"No ghe Poso believe! Oh Holy Mary and his son Jesus Christ savior who has given so much. My Savior God forgives the man who has defiled your holy house. Hail Mary full of grace ... "
" I can not believe! Oh Holy Mary and his son Jesus Christ savior who has given so much. My Savior God forgives the man who has defiled your holy house. Hail Mary full of grace ... ".
Then everything became blurry, flickering and poor Don fainted, collapsed on the steps before the altar.
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