Stories and News No. 724
Once upon a time there was a town.
Many fell to the town coming from north to south, since its founding.
Ab Urbe condita, using an easier expression for healthy memory persons and not for the others.
All affirming to have the right answer.
Which people needed the most.
Just one answer, without vain syntactic and semantic harpings.
You know, people have a lot of unresolved questions.
When someone comes to simplify they see him as god on earth.
The word becomes flesh.
What animal or carcass was it does not count.
So the day when Matteo Salvini had come to the town arrived.
No, not him, another Matteo Salvini.
Beautiful and tall, so we do not get confused.
Here I just tell a story, I can make some joke, people’s lives do not depend on it.
Matteo was a few moments from his long-awaited debut.
He was closed in the camper and was rehearsing the speech he should tell in front of the crowded square.
In that time someone knocked at the door.
"Bad news, Matteo, immigrants are all gone."
"Right now? Why? "
"Because they are tired of taking ever the blame for everything, so they said."
Matteo was forced to revise the speech.
He was trying to remedy when somebody knocked again.
"Matteo, Roma are all gone, the gipsy camps are empty."
"What is this, a conspiracy?"
"No, a Roma scientist has discovered a habitable planet, with water and food, and said that only those who lived in the camps may go."
Matteo restarted to change the speech, and I guess it is now clear, it means to cut it.
A few moments and yet another double knock sounded.
"Other bad news: there are no longer homosexuals around."
"What have I done wrong? Why they are gone?"
"Because making feel them as different they have really become. The have gills, now, and live under the sea, loving as they like. Some redfish protested, but nothing more."
He had not even finished to delete entire paragraphs from the speech when someone knocked for the fourth time.
In short, other enemies were gone, including Muslims, atheists and the old women without dentures, that Matteo had never been able to suffer because of a childhood trauma that we have not the time to explain.
He cut, cut again and with tears in his eyes watched what was left of the paper.
That is, just that: a paper
Good to clean his... okay, let’s not be rude, we're almost done.
"Boss," somebody shouted outside, "we are waiting for you on the stage."
Matteo went before the mirror to find inspiration, as Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver, Bob forgive me, and observing his own face reflected remembered the real reason which the foaming horde awaited him for.
He freed eyes from vile tears, opened the door of the camper and once on the stage, before his people, did the only thing he really knew.
He shouted, Matteo loudly barked with anger and resentment for an entire hour.
All shouted back, cheered and lived forever deluded to rejoice.
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