August 31st. There’s such a lot of fruit here. I eat raspberries and gooseberries all day and Mother says that is why I have no appetite for dinner. But Dr. Burioni always says Fruit is so wholesome. But why should it be unwholesome all at once? Is it because I repeat Mother’s path with Gyn? There were a lot of empty bottles of Gyn in the hotel room’s wardrobe, during one of those so long waited holidays, as far as I can remember. At that time we were only sleeping in two in that room, Mother and I, I did not drink that Gyn; so she must have had them all.
Teresa always says that when one likes anything awfully much one is always scolded about it until one gets perfectly sick of it. That could explain why Mother was so often put to bed in hospitals, and she also claimed she did not like Gyn at all. Image if she did like it!
Teresa often gets in such a temper with her mother, and then her mother says:
“We make such sacrifices for our children and they reward us with ingratitude.”
I should like to know what sacrifices they make. He spend every evening getting drunk in the whorehouse, along with his colleague younger than him. Then, at dawn, he goes to sleep and send to work the younger colleague, who is willing to go in order to take his job as the “carpenter squad leader.” Mother, on the other hand, she gets herself drunk at home. We’ll never know where does she get all that alcohol from, it cannot be just the lousy table wine they use for daily consumption. One day, while she was not at home, in the afternoon, that clown of her companion was snoring in bed, like the total idiot he is, drunk as usual after lunch. He had a nice Chardonnay provided by me, yes, because I had suggested them to change supplier, for once, and I had found a good price too. I had two third of that bottle while he was sleeping. It was nice, sweet, cool, fruity and dry and acid at the same time. I did not finish the bottle though. I was in a dilemma, here, now.
If I finished the bottle and made it disappear, I would have reached the conclusion that he drunk it, himself, non else, “I must have drunk it and forgot about it” he should have thought, granted him the ability of formulating any kind of thought….
If I added water to refill the bottle, the trick could have been to obvious. If you blend water and wine for 2/3 of the bottle, even a complete idiot as that one could had figured that out.
I had then an idea that was absolutely genius. I peed into the bottle. The color was identical of that of the Chardonnay and the quantity matched the 2/3 missing.
Later in the evening I saw that vulgar beast that Mother chose to make us living with, sitting on the dining table and drinking that “wine”, urine for 2/3 of the bottle and white wine for 1/3. He did not notice any difference and at that point I pitied him. The color might have been the same but there must have been some difference in the smell and the taste. What a fucking clown, and we use to be terrorised by him years before.
“We make such sacrifices for our children…” she says.
I think it’s the children who make the sacrifices. When I want to eat gooseberries and am not allowed to, the sacrifice is mine not Mother’s. I’ve written all this to Novella Burioli and she has written to me. The address on her letter to me was splendid, “Miss Antonietta Villa, 33 butt-plugs avenue, Vibratorsland.” Of course Novella had to know better than anyone else, and said that in the higher classes from the fourth upwards (because she is in the fourth) they learn important information about prostate stimulation and men receiving anal pleasure. She said: “Anyhow, in the holidays, before a girl has attended the…..the first class she has not yet ideas and fantasies…