127 Express

127 Express

127 Express

For reading of this episode: Small Town– John Mellencamp

"After you’ll put it back in, right?" I asked distractedly as the traffic flowed slowly under a spring heat that smelled of Apocalypse.

"Of course, if I won’t, it’d dry up. I’ll use it, I care about it."

"But how the hell did you get cold in April when it's fifteen thousand degrees under the shade?" Moobs asked, gazing at the chapstick in Fangio's hands.

"Eh, dear", he replied, "When love takes you, it doesn't offer you wine and asks you if cleaned your a*s!"

"Of course you could have left the cold room..." I objected, unleashing my eyes over the intersection.

"Did Wan Kyu set you aside between a spring roll and a frozen prawn and made love to you?"

"HUAN KYU... more or less: she took me, she grabbed my testicles firmly and served herself on me." said Fangio holding nuts that we can't see.

"And how was it? Has the nian gao been seasoned? " Moobs asked, shocked by the story. If he found a girl as infatuated as he is, the encounter would create a hormonal paradox, the result of which could cause a chain reaction that would unravel the very fabric of the boxer-thong continuum, and destroy the entire universe! I recognized that it was the most pessimistic hypothesis: the destruction could be very limited and especially limited to our apartment. Great Scott!

"Now I understand why the Chinese are conquering the world," he replies, dreaming.

Fangio no longer worked at the Indian pizzeria. After having gone into hiding for two months he has never been renewed his contract.

That's right, we live in dark times. He now works at a Chinese rotisserie. And he just got banged by La-Ming's daughter, the boss’ daughter, Huan Kyu. Huan Kyu Da-Dong.

"The only thing that bothers me a bit is my butt..." he admited.

"Did she use chopsticks?" asked Moobs.

"No, I leaned against the door without underwear and you know... skin and frozen metal don't go well together..."

"You mean that…"

"I couldn't pull myself away anymore, …. yes."

"And how did you do it, with a jellybean between your legs?" I asked sarcastically while the horizon continued to disappoint expectations.

“Eh, no, Huan Kyu helped me. She propped herself up against the door with her foot, she took my hands and she... she pulled..."

"Uhhhhhhhhh ……" I shared the pain.

"Oh yeah!" he confirmed.

"I mean, do you mean that now, in that rotisserie there is a shape of your a*s made of skin?" Moobs, doubled over with laughter, slapping the buttocks of Fangio who reared up shooting a curse.

Ten steps away is Sahid who, hoping to be included in our circle of friendship, smiled at the scene with his hands crossed over an apron full of his big belly and stains that someone who sells fruit and canned foods shouldn't have. Blood, pee, s**t.

From here it seems, at least.

We are under the porch, in front of the entrance to our building, it is Saturday, it is so hot that we cannot even sweat because the liquids evaporate instantly and instead of going looking for some fountain, pond, puddle to wallow, we wait for Zanna, of whom there is not sight.

"Where are we going?" Fangio remembers of not knowing. Basically he doesn't care. When he smells revelry, revelry or the possibility of making a healthy mess, he pushes himself into it with his head down. Reckless and brash.

"Don’t worry! What matters is the journey! " Moobs says, even if he doesn’t know as well.

"TONANT bullshit !!!" he rebelled."You wanna tell me that you aim for a girl, you sand off your a*s to conquer her, you convince her that you are a boy deserving to hear how she screams the name of the Lord and when you are finally about to lie down together, you let her get knocked by someone who came out of nowhere? No thanks. You did not understand s**t! I’ll make him s**t out of fear! " Yes, of colitis, not of fright. I remind you that the Fangio does not inspire fear, it’s awful to watch.

"There he is!" I yelled pointing to a car parked at the traffic light down the street.

"But where did he go parking? in Mexico?"

There he is Zanna inside that car, a blue Fiat 127 that coughs and spits smoke.

Zanna, pompous, leaned out of the window and, smiling, looked for signs of appreciation in our gestures and expressions: I had my hands in my pockets and a small frown on my forehead; Fangio scratched the drinker's buzz peeking out from the Panter's shirt; Moobs' was chasing a butterfly.

"So?!" asks Zanna, not at all defeated in enthusiasm as he came to stand on the sidewalk in front of us.

The bodywork was not that bad considering that it belonged to his late uncle and that the last time it left the house, the Berlin Wall was still a fence. Something is wrong with the engine: either Zanna has a spastic foot or his clutch - gas coordination is s**t. The 127 was frightening sobbing and venting like a gaping sphincter. It seemed to look at someone who tries eat while they are about to vomit. Today colorful metaphors, I know. It's just that I didn't digest well last night.

"And where do you plan to go with this?" Moobs was amazed while the engine in neutral gasped in retching.

"To the landfill." I presume.

"If all goes well, in a ditch." Fangio.

"Did you get it at an Al-Qaeda sale?"

"Oh, don't worry guys! Look, this car is a jewel! "

"Bowel, Zanna, it's pronounced bowel…!" Moobs corrects him.

"Come on fools, get on!" he cheered

"But wasn't there something else, I don't know, a better stuff? A camel, some skates, a walker? " Fangio asked, unhinging the passenger seat to slip behind him while the Saiyan tail sticking out of his low-waisted pants took away some of my joy for life."

"You will change your mind!" Zanna clapped his hand on the dashboard, as to pet that old friend of hers. A cloud of dust surrounded everything.

“They made these cars out of asbestos, right? Thank goodness, so I die and I don't think about it." I got up to give him a pat on his shoulder.

Moobs seemed the only positive about it. His eyes look like the ones of a child during Christmas morning sparkling out of nowhere.

We were waiting for him, Zanna had his hand on the gearbox, I straightened the seat that slams me happily on my knees and Fangio was already exploring that automobile heirloom in search of fetishes and so on.

Moobs, however, did not get in, not yet. Zanna beckoned him to move, he raised his hand asking for a moment. Then he took a couple of steps back and suddenly throws himself inside the car.

"LIKE STARSKY & HUTCH !!!!!" he yelled as he throws himself on the hood.

Before we knew it, he already did it. We could just stand by and watch. Looking back at the momentum, the powerful athletic gesture, the a*s that, instead of sliding to the other side as one would expect, sank into the hood. Now, apart from four wheels and a steering wheel, I saw only one other feature in common with the legendary car of the San Francisco Crusaders: FIAT is from Turin and FORD has the Gran Torino. STOP.

Ah! We have the Great CRETIN.

Zanna, incredulous, threw up his hands. Also Moobs was in the same mood, but for a completely different reason. Fangio, on the other hand, chuckled. I was covering my eyes.

Moobs got out slowly, while car sheet complained (To-TONK!) But it is unable to return to its original shape: the basin remains there. A bird trough. Like Mia Khalifa’s.

"Hey, the dimples on the back of a girl are hot! See it like this! " Fangio stops the laughter to say this bullshit. Zanna was disconsolate, that's all. In response he just gave a listless grunt.

Moobs finally decided to get it. He does it as if he were invisible, as if, in order not to be caught by his parent, he had to get into bed as quietly as possible and didn't even lift the sheets to keep them from rustling.

"Good!" he then exclaimed, clapping both hands on his knees."Snack?"

Everything has a starting point.

It was also for us: just the beginning.