PIETRO GIACOMETTI
I whistled a sweet tune, pulling off the satin clothing that covered the tools on the cart. I let the clothe drop to the floor before running my fingers on to the tools, loving the coolness of the metals.
“What do we have here?” I picked up the glinting butcher’s knife.
“Shall we butcher his fingers? Or would his toes do instead?” I asked the audience who looked confused as to if they were supposed to answer or not. But they stayed quiet.
Right decision.
“I think we should go for his fingers first.” I dropped the butcher’s knife and picked up the axe.
“Oh, this is one of my favourite. I don't want our star performer to die on us, though so I won't be using this on him. Let's see…”
“Right. I will be using this on whosoever in the audience that makes an unsolicited
