I crack from hunger?«
»You want to eat something? That’s it?«
Antonio looked at me as if I had just sta ted that I derived from trolls.
»No, first I want to hold a presentation about Garry Kasparov’s strategy at his last tournament. Of course I want to eat, and I want it now, what do you think, douche bag!«
»Now, now Francis, you’re in Rome, the culinary Mecca of the whole planet. You are going to tuck in so many delicacies, that you will eventually crave for a rotten fishbone.«
»You don’t happen to call this Spaghetti Bolognese with a hint of green on the stairs up there delicacies ?«
»Spaghetti Bolognese with a hint of green?«
He shook himself grossed out so that for a moment every single hair of his velvet fur sat up like spines and let him look like he had licked on a socket.
»My dear Francis, I believe, you really are starving, hunger has made you rant by now. So what does your palate crave for? La Rosetta have the best fish. If you are into meat, we should go visit Checchino Dal 1887 . And La Pergola is the home of the real haute cuisine.«
»Phew, difficult choice«, I said, while I had to try hard not to drool all over myself again. »The problem is that I lost my platinum card on the plane.«
»Boo, only morons and humans pay for food! As an honorary gourmet critic all the top chef in the city are at my paws. Feasting is culture, and who could evaluate the quality of this culture better than our kind with our sensitive tongues. At least I’d rather swallow prussic acid than beg for trash in this horrible place. Come on, Francis, follow me and let your palate experience the fourth Lucullan dimension.«
» Eccellente , Antonio!« Giovanni said. »Until now I never even had a clue about this gluttony being culture but as I value culture above all things, I’m also going to take one for the team and join you.«
»No way!« Antonio replied unlovingly and headed towards the stony hill that consisted of rotting wall pieces and pillars, which had fallen over and broken into rough slices. »You stay here and keep your eyes open. I’m sorry, old pal, but when I mentioned the sensitive tongue, the operative word was sensitive, I didn’t talk about the record speed at which this tongue carries dirt of all kinds into the mouth. And regarding to your tummy rumbles: Didn’t Francis mention some Spaghetti Bolognese with a hint of green? Always keep in mind that green is the color of hope!«
Although I didn’t support Antonio’s arrogant behavior and although I felt awfully sorry for the pirate right now, my current state didn’t allow the moralist in me to come out and play. To be honest, Antonio’s list of restaurants had already ki lled any morality inside of me.
Yet, it took some time before I was able to break away from dead Siamese’s black mask-like face with its widened azure blue eyes. This time I blanked out the big hole in her head, imagined how she used to enjoy the sun and the balmy air, and the lovingly rubbing of those whom she cared for. I pictured to myself how she, like the desirable lady she was, tested her impact on hotheads, edgily posing in this ancient oasis. I imagined how she had jauntily celebrated every single day in her life. But at the thought of the black nothing that she had entered, my fantasy slackened and let me sink into the depths of depression despite the urgent physical necessity. A last goodbye, a last glance at this wasted beauty, then I followed Antonio on the stony hill of trash, which lead towards an inte rsection.
»Oh, Francis«, I heard Giovanni’s voice behind my back. I turned around and saw him desertedly standing next to the body like the last watchman of a sunken kingdom.
»You asked if I had noticed any special skills at the victim when she was still alive. Now I remember one thing. Well, she couldn’t juggle a ball on her nose, but she was quite acrobatic.«
»What do you mean?«
»Well, these young chicks are all pretty limber but
»You want to eat something? That’s it?«
Antonio looked at me as if I had just sta ted that I derived from trolls.
»No, first I want to hold a presentation about Garry Kasparov’s strategy at his last tournament. Of course I want to eat, and I want it now, what do you think, douche bag!«
»Now, now Francis, you’re in Rome, the culinary Mecca of the whole planet. You are going to tuck in so many delicacies, that you will eventually crave for a rotten fishbone.«
»You don’t happen to call this Spaghetti Bolognese with a hint of green on the stairs up there delicacies ?«
»Spaghetti Bolognese with a hint of green?«
He shook himself grossed out so that for a moment every single hair of his velvet fur sat up like spines and let him look like he had licked on a socket.
»My dear Francis, I believe, you really are starving, hunger has made you rant by now. So what does your palate crave for? La Rosetta have the best fish. If you are into meat, we should go visit Checchino Dal 1887 . And La Pergola is the home of the real haute cuisine.«
»Phew, difficult choice«, I said, while I had to try hard not to drool all over myself again. »The problem is that I lost my platinum card on the plane.«
»Boo, only morons and humans pay for food! As an honorary gourmet critic all the top chef in the city are at my paws. Feasting is culture, and who could evaluate the quality of this culture better than our kind with our sensitive tongues. At least I’d rather swallow prussic acid than beg for trash in this horrible place. Come on, Francis, follow me and let your palate experience the fourth Lucullan dimension.«
» Eccellente , Antonio!« Giovanni said. »Until now I never even had a clue about this gluttony being culture but as I value culture above all things, I’m also going to take one for the team and join you.«
»No way!« Antonio replied unlovingly and headed towards the stony hill that consisted of rotting wall pieces and pillars, which had fallen over and broken into rough slices. »You stay here and keep your eyes open. I’m sorry, old pal, but when I mentioned the sensitive tongue, the operative word was sensitive, I didn’t talk about the record speed at which this tongue carries dirt of all kinds into the mouth. And regarding to your tummy rumbles: Didn’t Francis mention some Spaghetti Bolognese with a hint of green? Always keep in mind that green is the color of hope!«
Although I didn’t support Antonio’s arrogant behavior and although I felt awfully sorry for the pirate right now, my current state didn’t allow the moralist in me to come out and play. To be honest, Antonio’s list of restaurants had already ki lled any morality inside of me.
Yet, it took some time before I was able to break away from dead Siamese’s black mask-like face with its widened azure blue eyes. This time I blanked out the big hole in her head, imagined how she used to enjoy the sun and the balmy air, and the lovingly rubbing of those whom she cared for. I pictured to myself how she, like the desirable lady she was, tested her impact on hotheads, edgily posing in this ancient oasis. I imagined how she had jauntily celebrated every single day in her life. But at the thought of the black nothing that she had entered, my fantasy slackened and let me sink into the depths of depression despite the urgent physical necessity. A last goodbye, a last glance at this wasted beauty, then I followed Antonio on the stony hill of trash, which lead towards an inte rsection.
»Oh, Francis«, I heard Giovanni’s voice behind my back. I turned around and saw him desertedly standing next to the body like the last watchman of a sunken kingdom.
»You asked if I had noticed any special skills at the victim when she was still alive. Now I remember one thing. Well, she couldn’t juggle a ball on her nose, but she was quite acrobatic.«
»What do you mean?«
»Well, these young chicks are all pretty limber but
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