The sun has just started to get through the trees. The view from my solitary cabin is beautiful. That’s exactly why I selected it, five years ago. Solitary and beautiful.
I’m drinking my first coffee of the day, comfortably wrapped up in my checkered dressing gown, when the black helicopter noisily lands into my backyard in a cloud of dust. Three men in dark suits and shining aviator sunglasses come out of it. They keep their heads down, the propeller is still turning. Do they really assume that engineers were dumb enough to position the heli props at a head chopping height? CIA morons, I think.
A familiar silhouette walks in front, the other two seem just busy to watch his back. He knocks at my kitchen door. I’m not in a hurry, I exactly know who he is and what he wants from me. He sketches an uneasy grin as my face appears behind the mosquito grid.
“Hey, Heavy! Glad to see you old crook! You look in shape, even if you’d need a good shaving. May I get in?”
“Thomas J. Thompson… I told you I didn’t want to see your dirty mug around anymore. Tell your guys to clear off my backyard right away or I’ll take delight in shooting into your legs and your fucking eggbeater.” I gently lift my right hand, my .44 Remington shines like gold in the morning light.
“C’mon, Heavy! Ok, I am sorry for the Mosul thing, we shouldn’t have dumped you. But you knew the risks and… Well, whatever, we need you back into service, the President needs you. Come with me now, I will tell y…”
I feel confused. I suddenly realize that I’ve never had a backyard or a gun. Or a checkered dressing gown, either. I hear the speaker’s voice coming out of my radio alarm, announcing the 6am news. I wake up.
Sunny and hot today, she is in the garden. She is half asleep, lazily letting the sun ruffle her shiny skin. I have been waiting for this moment for weeks. I silently approach, sneaking through the weed. She won’t scream, she won’t even notice me or the knife. I’m so close that I can smell her sweet scent. I am ready, I am grinning now…
Her destiny was written from the start: cut in pieces, laying on a pizza base
along with mozzarella cheese, olive oil, salt and fresh basil. And a little garlic, maybe… (evil laughter)
One of the things that irritate me the most is the habit that some people have to draw quotes in the air with their fingers while talking.
It’s like saying: “Sorry dude, I know you’re not smart enough to catch my metaphors so I am obliged to show you where they are. Hoping that maybe you’ll understand”.
Why don’t you bend your head on the left when you mean italic or inflate your cheeks for bold? And what about imitating hyperlinks when you give a web address?
You can blame it on my usual Monday’s bad mood… Yet, it sucks. 😛
Well, I am still blushing for having been nominated by the most beautiful and talented Nidhi for this award. Thank you so much, sweet girl!
The most challenging rule to comply with is to pick fifteen blogs to pass the baton to. Here we go:
Sabiscuit’s Catalog, hbhatnagar, Plato’s Groove, Emerging from the Dark Night, Indisposed & Undiagnosed, Bare Naked in Public, Sonya Lira Photography, Be Illustrated, Cobblestone, Milford Street, Saya D Poet, SometimesBipolar, Arcade # 1775, Michael’s Lair, A touch of my saint!
And now, let me tell you seven facts about myself…
1. My name is Antonio, but all my friends call me Tony.
2. I am from Italy and I have been living in France since, let me think… OMG!
3. I have two beautiful kids, light of my eyes.
4. I have three main passions: aircraft, music and photography.
5. I can play guitar but I can’t dance.
6. I can be very funny if I dare to disconnect my brain. Red wine works just fine for this.
7. My heart is a mess, but this you already know.
“…that’s all folks…”
Much love to you all, Tony (aka Heavy Cloud)
Now run to him
And don’t look back
And don’t look me up
Time will wipe
All this shit away
Water and soap flowing down
Like from the sponge
Of a bikini girl
Washing my windshield
While I mind the promises
Her body won’t keep.