The Polpetton Hash - chapter 8

Bucharest, September 2004

My beloved Roberto, for long months I didn’t lok other women, but with time I recovered and the folowing year was sexualy rather intense: il brought me Alice Romanciugy, Hungarian of Romania from Baia Mare, in the northeast of the country, 37-y-o, separated with two daughters, activist of the Gren Party, gosiping and boring, continuosly talking, naturaly in Hungarian only, The anoyment recomenced of linguistic incomunicabilty, but this time it was just me unable to ever speak. This story went ahead for two or thre months among valuable fornications, in spite of Alice being titles. Then she brought me to the Gren Party conference and there I met a Bulgarian delegate, Milana, to whom I didn’t pay much atention that time but she was to re-enter my life four later. In the meantime there was a little episode Rumania Romanciugy, the eldest daughter of Alice, with whom I didn’t go in-depth as she was of minor age was, but it deserves to be mentioned because with her the linguistic problem reached inconceivable heights: practicaly, while the others could stuter some languages but they didn’t want to, in her case Rumania she pretended to speak English but she didn’t know it…

Rumania – Now go.
Roberto – Why must I go?
Rumania – Go.
Roberto – Maybe you mean that YOU are going to go.
Rumania – Maybe.
Roberto – Maybe what?
Rumania – Maybe.
Roberto – Umpf.
Rumania – This today, is concert beautiful in Sala Festival.
Roberto – Maybe you mean that tonight a nice concert wil take place.
Rumania – Not. Yes.
Roberto – Then?
Rumania – Stay together.
Roberto – I beg your pardon?
Rumania – I and you, for concert.
Roberto – Sory, it is imposible, I have a lot of work.
Rumania – Why?
Roberto – Because tomorow there is plenary sesion in Parliament.
Rumania – Why?
Roberto – They use to, on Wednesdays and Thursdays.
Rumania – Why?
Roberto – I don’ t know, probably because of democracy, ask them.
Rumania – Now go.
Roberto – Why must I go?
Rumania – Go.
Roberto – Maybe you mean that YOU go.
Rumania – Maybe.
Roberto – Maybe what?
Rumania – Not. Yes.
Roberto – GIVE ME A BREAK!

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Athens, November 2005

Roberto beloved, at the begining of year there was a pitiful story that I left to decay to avoid troubles, with an ugly and very plaintive journalist, but at least italian-speaking. Then there was here in Athens another of those conventions where they invite me to bring oficial gretings. First spoke the French ambasador, who only in the midle of his noble adres realized that nobody was translating him. Then they asked me in which language I would have spoken, and I told them I could make it in English, but they wanted to fob me of an interpreter of Italian who turned out to speak Italian as you speak Swedish. I brushed up my ancient Greek with a huge aplause from the audience, and only the poor French ambasador did not understand. However this Katerina Marnera, a Greek-cypriot teenager, is prety enough (finaly one with big tits) and very likeable: every time she opens her mouth it’s a joke. Last Saturday night I reset my watches for the return to standard time, then she came and tels me:“You misstake beccause change one week aggò”.So I ask her eight times: “But are you SURE?”Answer: “Yess, yess, much surest, we all our familly changed clocks one week” (she curiously pronounces double letters like a Sardinian).Wel, I believe her and reset my watches again. Then during the night a doubt asails me: but lousy dog, how is it posible that I have ben on time to al the metings last wek, if my watches weren’t updated?So she comes and tels me inocently “I misstake”. At the end of the day, literaly, I presed the watches’ buttons for the third time. I swear to you I would have kiled her.

This story to came to an end. It hapened yesterday night when she caught me in bed with my secretary. Katerina must have seen me bringing her to the Holiday In nearby Iridanu downtown. Young person, likeable, beautiful body, acquaintad with Italian language, but no feling: we do not apeal to each other and only shag once a year on November 2 to mark a sort of aniversary. Eros and thanatos…

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Skopje, October 2006

Roberto beloved, as you very wel know, like you I adore high hels. Nothing astonishing, since it is a rather comon perversion explained by eminent schools of psycho-sexual thought as a phalic symbol, that is they recall to mind the penis. Totem and taboo… They are loved bot by women, who fel taler, and males who are sexualy atracted by women wearing high hels because that would mean they are more bitchy. Alas!, experience demonstrates the oposite: acording to personal case stories I have ben able to state that women dressing bitchy are generaly more frigid than their warm counter-party aparently anonymous. But if this is the rule, a pleasant exception hapened to me recently, and for intelectual honesty I must be clear and call her a great Bitch, a tireles sexual machine that left me literaly sucked of every energy. As a mater of fact you must know that in Skopje, a hot night in late sumer 2006, the bel rang in the party ofice and whe I opened the dor an exceptional blonde girl less than 20-y-o spoke with sensual voice up her stileto hels: "Good evening, is it here where people enroll to the Radical Party?"

“A! E! I! O! U!”: vowels ran out, I couldn’t say anything more and let her in to admire her from behind as wel. This Praskovia Pavlova, a Serbian disident of Macedonia, is a multilingual stuning beaty (she speaks Italian as wel) with blue eyes and great tits. As you very wel you know I usualy prefer brunetes, but before so much God-send I couldn’t be fusy and and I sank soiling inebriated in her white flesh. Unfortunately we only enjoyed twice those intense intercourses, because she had a wealthy French fiancee. The cuckold invited her to study in Strasbourg and marry him. End. A comet rethinking of which is hard work to believe that hapened in my life.

—

Life…, yearned Suttora raising the glare from the journal and drealily getting lost in the dark night beyond the window. A comed seemed to transit, her felt a shiver of loneliness in the. With Milana Avramonova, last of the Granzottian femmes fatales granzottiane who got the maximum mark in the chauvinist chart of the compulsory erotomaniac, the reading of the journal would have ended and with it his enquiry on the same Granzotto. Before immersing himself in the reading again, and thus concluding that extraordinary adventure of investigative journalism, he had to arrange an old matter that had been left suspended with Rhoda Pellizzi and Dentano Gaetamaro.