#frocio tw

[rainbowtiredoftheworld]

“Nulla contro le ragazze, ma Michele è una brava persona”

“[...] orientamento sessuale e colore della pelle, basta odio”

Rispettivamente li commento di una signora dopo il funerale di Maria Paola Gaglione e un frammento dell'omelia del parroco durante il funerale. Mi sono rimasti impressi.

Mi sono rimasti impressi perchè, in fondo, sono uguali. Sono la stessa cosa, vista da due punti di vista. La transfobia e l’odio che impregna la nostra società, visti dal punto di vista del “popolino” e della “gente per bene”.

La signora, che anche di fronte alle prove schiaccianti (i segni degli speronamenti sulla moto, le botte che hanno mandato Ciro in ospedale, le dichiarazioni dell’omicida che voleva curare Maria Paola perchè era infetta) preferisce chiudere gli occhi perchè “Michele è una brava persona”. Anche se mai nella vita una brava persona speronerebbe la propria sorella per curarla dall’amare un’altra persona. E la signora lo sa. Ma passa oltre, perchè va bene così. È meglio essere assassino che frocio, no? Ecco. Pensa te che Maria Paola non era neanche frocia...

E poi il prete. Lo stesso prete che ha detto “Di certo non era preparato culturalmente a vivere la relazione della sorella con un’altra donna“ e “Non sapevo della relazione tra le due ragazze, ma sapevo della ‘scelta’ di Ciro, che rispetto“ subito dopo l’omicidio. Vorrei mettere un secondo l’accento su “scelta”, messo fra virgolette, ma andiamo avanti. Questo prete, durante l’omelia tira fuori l’orientamento sessuale e il colore della pelle. Maria Paola era etero e bianca. Il fatto quotidiano riporta che l’omelia è rimasta “sul piano teologico, sui temi della morte e della Resurrezione, senza fare riferimenti specifici ai fatti di cronaca“. Manteniamo la faccia. Teniamo tutto coperto dall’usuale spessa coltre di fuliggine, che appanna l’opinione pubblica e la sensibilità delle persone. Rimaniamo nella comfort zone. Non andiamo a toccare lo status quo. Chissenefrega se sta ragazza è morta perchè il fratello è maschilista, omofobo e transfobo. Buttiamo su un mezzo discorso sulla morte e i massimi sistemi e andiamo a casa, che qua stiamo alzando troppo un polverone per i miei gusti.

Ma alla fine, la signora e il prete hanno fatto la stessa cosa. Lei dalla strada, lui dall’altare, hanno entrambi insultato Maria Paola e Ciro per l’ennesima volta. Hanno insultato e preso per il culo una ragazza che è morta perchè amava un ragazzo trans, e un ragazzo che probabilmente si sentirà responsabile della sua morte per tutta la vita. Quello che è successo non era ancora abbastanza. I giornali e telegiornali che hanno fatto del proprio peggio nel descrivere i fatti non erano ancora abbastanza. Mancava quel non-so-che.

Tutta questa faccenda mi è sempre più disgustosa. È troppo chiedere un minimo di umanità? Senza prese in giro, senza finti perbenismi, senza frasi fatte, e senza preti che sputano veleno... È seriamente troppo?

Chiudo ‘sto papiro che mi è uscito con due mie speranze. Primo, spero che adesso, dopo il funerale, Maria Paola possa riposarsi un attimo; spero che l’opinione pubblica la lasci stare; spero che la sua famiglia si renda davvero conto di quello che è successo. Secondo, spero che Ciro abbia un terapista, o se non lo ha che se lo trovi; spero che riesca a continuare la sua vita, anche se la società fa di tutto per impedirglielo; spero che non rimanga fossilizzato su quello che è successo; spero che riesca a trovare un equilibro fra ricordare Maria Paola e superare la sua morte.

Ps: spero anche che questo sia l’ultimo post che scrivo su questa situazione... Conto di non dovermi più sfogare perchè la situazione viene gestita in modo ridicolo e offensivo... Ma chissà... Domani è un altro giorno, non possiamo prevedere cosa diranno i servizi del tg1...

[la-principessa-della-squadra]

Hello!! May I request La Squadra dealing with a drunk fem reader? Thank you!

Oh, darling...these men are going to get you wasted for good! Be Prepared!Thank you again for your patience, as you already know, I had lost everything on this ask and this took ages to rewrite. A great thanks to my friend @bennycake who supported me through this chaos.

Tequila,Sale e Limone-La Squadra x Drunk Fem! reader!

TW: Alcohol, curses, blasphemies, heavy drugs, violence, sexual harassment, r-slur, f-slur

Formaggio

Everything started when Formaggio screamed:

“ANNAMO A VIVERE” which roughly translates to ‘LET’S GET WASTED.’

You’re actually drunk because of him. And He’s drunk because of…well, him. Hanging out with Formaggio automatically means “getting drunk in a sport bar” and that’s exactly what he has planned for you.

The man takes you eagerly to one of his favorite bars to watch the soccer game, with him. Tonight there’s Lazio vs Napoli and there’s nothing a Roma supporter loves more than see Lazio soccer team losing a game against ANYONE.

You may not know this, but during soccer games, Italians usually consume gallons and gallons of alchol. Especially beer. Be it the Menabrea, Ichnusa, Peroni or that piss called ‘Nastro Azzurro’, during any soccer game, the average Italian would chug even some gasoline in order to stay high and full of energy for the entire match. The second thing you notice is that almost everyone has a cigarette in their hands, even the waitresses. After all, it’s 2001 and there’s still no smoking-free law in indoor spaces.

“Aò Barista!Ven a pijà i cadaveri! Chicca, Tu non stai bevendo. Dì a zietto Forma quello che vuoi, offro io, chicca. CHEVORRDIRE CHE VOI’ LO SPRITZ??? Io cor spritz me ce faccio i gargarismi!BARISTA! 2 NEGRONI PE’ LA CHICCA! E PE' ME 'N THÈ, 'N PÈ, 'N MÈ, 'N FÈ!!- SO’ ENTRATO ‘NA FASE RUM!!!”

(Aò Barman! Come and get the glasses!Baby,you're not drinking enough. Tell Uncle Forma what you want, it's on me, Babe. WHAT!? YOU WANT A SPRITZ? I brush my teeth with Aperol Spritz! AO BARMAN! 2 NEGRONI FOR THE LIL’ GIRL RIGHT HERE!-A STRAIGHT RUM FOR ME! I WAS BORN TO RUM!)

There is only one beer you are forbidden to order in any bar, or rather, you are forbidden to order if you are a man. Penalty: a collective lynching by all the male patrons present in the bar. The beer in question is the ‘Corona Extra'.if a man orders a 'Corona' will cause the outrage of many ‘alpha males’ and the poor bastard will be labeled as ‘frocio’ (‘f*gott)

“Guarda quella frociarola con la Corona-ARBITRO FISCHIA IN MEZZO A 'E COSCE DE TU' MOJE CHE DE FALLI SE N'INTENDE!!!”

(Look at that poor bastard with the Corona-PENALTY!!! THAT WAS PENALTY!!! THE REFEREE IS A FUCKING SELL-OUT DICK SUCKER FAGG*T!!)

This does not apply to women.

Although beer is the most popular drink, any spirits with more than three alcoholic bases is culturally accepted in any bar. So you have no choice but to drink and get wasted.No apéritif cocktail will be socially accepted.

However, Napoli wins against Lazio 2-1 and Formaggio takes the chance to order another round of shots while he keeps you sitting on his lap.

“DAJE CHICCA FEMO TEQUILA SALE E LIMONE CHE POI STASERA ‘ANNAMO A DALLAS!”

(BABE, TONIGHT I’LL GET YOU SUM' NOSE SUGAR! LET'S DO SUM' TEQUILA SHOTS WITH SALT AND LEMON!)

It's past one o'clock in the morning and the waiters are starting to stack the tables and take away the ashtrays, a clear sign that it's time to take off. Both of you have now reached a new stage of ‘drunkenness’ where you are left with only two options: Number 1 find a bed. Or more accurately, any horizontal surface to rest on.

Option number 2: Drink even more until the next morning. You can tell by the way Formaggio is rolling his third drum of the night that he has no intention of going home. Luckily you don’t have to drive.

However, After all those drinks, you can't walk straight, and you almost end up falling on the cobblestones. Eventually, Formaggio notices you staggering towards the no parking sign as you try to run away from him and decide to toss the cigarette paper he was about to roll and take action.

“Chicca, venime cor foco…Chicca?CHICCA! N’DO VAI?? AHÒ! CHICCA!! AHÒ, CONTO FINO A TRE: SE A DUE NUN STAI QUA, A UNO TE PRENDO!...Dai Chicca non farmi correre che nun c’ho la forza”

(Babe, pass me a light…Where-BABE WHERE ARE GOING? AHÒ! I'LL COUNT TO THREE: IF YOU'RE NOT HERE WHEN I REACH TWO, I'LL CATCH YOU AT ONE!....C’mun Babe! Don’t Run! DON’T RUN! I’m gonna puke!)

The man starts running after you and when he finally grabs you, He picks you up like a princess and puts you on his shoulders. He’s definitely having fun with you. After trapping you on his shoulders, He grabs his Motorola and starts looking at the phonebook contacts.

“ALE’! Ti ho presa, chicca!!Così non mi scappi più.Voglio proprio vedere come fai a scendere da quassù…Ora sai che facciamo? Ci facciamo venire a prendere e ci spariamo il talco di Pollon…mmh.. ci starebbe Biancaneve…No sticazzi. Quello si è già tirato pure le strisce der campo …LULU! Ce sta Lulù! Ora lo chiamo”

(ALE'! I GOTCHA YA GIRLl! I really wanna see you getting down from here... Now. You know what we are gonna do? We’re gonna get us some sugar, Babe! … Who should I ask? Ghiaccio? No way. I bet he’s already wasted his entire paycheck ...Lulu!Lulu’s free! He’s gonna pick us up!)

Illuso

After a 15 minutes wait that seemed like an eternity, you see an Alfa Romeo coming from a ZTL zone, drifting violently on the cobblestones and drastically stopping a few inches from the two of you. The window slowly lowers to reveal an annoyed Illuso. The man immediately glances at you in annoyance and then raises an eyebrow at Formaggio.

“Perchè c’è anche la figétta?”

(Why is she here?)

“Bella Lulù! non sarà ora di cambiare a sto catorcio di macchina che ti ritrovi?”

(SUP' Lulu, isn't it time to replace this wreck of a car of yours??)

says Formaggio leaning on the car door with both of his elbows.

“Preferivi forse tornare a piedi fino alle Vele di Scampia? Testina di cazzo.”

(Perhaps you'd rather walk to 'Vele di Scampia' district? You dickhead.”

“...Ma stasera semo da Melevisione allora! DAJE! ”

(...Tonight we’re at Melone’s??DAJE!)

Formaggio rubs his hands smugly. Everything is permitted at Melone’s house. Plus, the lavender man prepares phenomenal cocktails.

“alàgnite. montate su.”

(Get in losers, we're going shopping.)

Formaggio quickly opens the passenger door and immediately picks you up in his arms like a princess. Your eyes meet for about two seconds, his face is so close to yours that it feels like he's about to give you a kiss.

Without taking his eyes off yours, he grins languidly and whispers:

"Chicca, C'avrei da ditte na cosa ma se te limono faccio prima…”

(Forgive me for this, baby girl…)

…and then he shoves you onto the passenger seats nonchalantly, and he slips into them too, almost getting on top of you.

“Assicurami che non mi vomita.”

(Assure me she won’t throw up)

“E che te sembro, Allianz?”

(I don’t even know what an “assurance” is.)

Out of spite, Illuso restarts the car puts the gear in reverse, and makes a brutal U-turn without waiting for Formaggio to close the car door. The poor was this close to is just about to be thrown out of the car.

“MANNAGGIA AR CORE DE CRISTO!! PER POCO NON MI DIVENTAVO TUTT’UNO COR MARCIAPIEDE, TESTA DI CAZZO!!AO. MA LA PATENTE L’HAI PRESA COI PUNTI DER MULINO BIANCO???...Chicca, stai bene?”

(JESUS CHRIST ILLUSO!! I'VE ALMOST BECOME ONE WITH THE SIDEWALK! WHOEVER GAVE YOU YOUR LICENSE WAS BOTH BLIND AND A FAGG*T?? THAT WOULD EXPLAIN WHY YOU DRIVE LIKE ONE!!! Babe…Are you ok?).

Finally Formaggio closes the car door and in doing so he accidentally notices that one of the latest copy of ‘Tv Sorrisi e Canzoni has been left on the car dashboard still wrapped in plastic and slightly covered in suspicious white dust.

“...Lulù.Ma te sei già dato ‘na botta?Dove hai nascosto la Pollon?”

(Lulu, you’ve already snorted sum, haven’t ya? Where is it?)

“Che domande.Altrimenti dove la trovavo la forza di venirvi a prendere? Hey bambola, stai attenta a non rompere il sacchetto col tuo culo.”

(If not, where would I find the strength to come and get you? Hey doll, be careful not to break the bag with your ass.)

Answers Illuso keeping his eyes on the road.

“Perdonami angioletto, sto cercando la tua polverina...A te ‘a residenza nun te la daranno mai perchè c’hai ‘n culo fuori dal comune….”

("Forgive me,sweet angel. I'm just looking for your dust…)

Formaggio eagerly lifts your leg in search of some angel dust. The bag is no bigger than a cheese cracker, and it has casually tucked itself under your thigh. The man looks more pleased with where it's slipped. Suddenly, you see the expression on the man's face changes abruptly, from a smug look to one of irritation and confusion.

Formaggio brings the bag close to the window, trying to look through it by holding it up to the light. There is so little coke in the clear bag that it is hard to tell how much is left with the naked eye.

“...Ammazza.Ma qua ci saranno a malapena du’ strisce…Chi s’è inculato la neve?Io e la chicca eravamo pronti a fa’ la settimana bianca…”

(...Fuck...There’s at best half a line of coke left in here. Who's got the rest?? We were ready to get fucked up, but not like this…)

Groans Formaggio pulling you closer to him on the backseat. Suddenly he gets a brilliant idea. With disarming nonchalance, he slips the bag of coke under the elastic band of your bra, so he doesn’t have to keep it in his pants pockets without risking breaking the plastic.

“Il resto ce l’ha Biancaneve, ha detto che ci raggiunge a casa di Melone non appena torna dal casinò.Se vuoi c’è del Baylis sotto al sedile.”

(Ghiaccio has the rest, he said he'll meet us at Melone's house as soon as he gets back from the casino.)

Illuso counters by suddenly turning into Via Luigi Guanella, cutting off a Fiat Punto and not giving way to a couple of scooters at the crossroads, immediately followed by an echo of honks and ‘Chitammort’. After hearing all those noises, Formaggio decides to roll down his passenger window and shout:

“SÒNA 'N MEZZO ALLE COSCE DE TU' MOJE CHE CE STA PIU' TRAFFICO!... Illuso, Te prego, dimme che me stai a pija’ pe’ culo, proprio er Biancaneve?”

(HOW DARE YOU HOKING AT US WITH A FUCKING FIAT PUNTO??! …Illuso, please tell me you’re joking…Ghiaccio?Really?)

“Se tu pensi di essere incazzato, pensa quanto lo è Pro. Non si poteva fare altrimenti visto che è lo stesso Ghiaccio che ce l’ha procurata.”

(If you think you're pissed, think how pissed Pro is.We had no choice, Ghiaccio is our Eric Clapton,you know. )

“Mejo de ‘n carcio a li cojoni.. Chicca te che dici? AO’ CHICCA NON MI DORMIRE! RIPIJATE! Ce penso io…”

(Well, it’s better than nothing..What do you think, babe?BABE? BABE YOU CAN’T FALL ASLEEP RIGHT NOW! WAKE UP! Ok,let me do this…)

Formaggio notices you’re falling asleep because of all of that cheap booze you drank at the bar. The man sticks his hand under the car seats looking for the bottle of Baileys Illuso mentioned before. Once found, he puts a hand on your shoulder to keep you straight and shakes you gently.

“Aò, Bona de papà, adesso ‘taccate a sta bottiglia e ingoi tutto ciò che ti entra in bocca.”

(Now, hit the bottle and swallow everything that comes in your mouth!)

Formaggio says after opening the bottle of Baileys and pushing it to your lips as if it were a baby bottle. Illuso senses the double entendre in your conversation and makes a sarcastic comment:

“Che schifo diocane, sei così coatto che questo è l’unico modo in cui una donna ti può fare una pompa?”

(Ew…you're so lame that this is the only way a woman will give you a blow job?)

“AO.STATTE ZITTO LULU’! O quando scendiamo te do’ li schiaffi a due a due finchè nun diventano dispari….Bevi,Chicca! Bravissima!Hai fatto pratica?”

(SHUT YOUR FACE LULU! I’ll give you 2 slap in each cheek until I reach an odd number….C’mun girl, You can do it! Drink it up... You’re Chuggin’ it like a champion! Have you been practicing?)

“Comunque siamo quasi arrivati, piccioncini.”

(Anyway, we're almost there, lovebirds.)

Pesci

Melone's apartment is located on the 12th floor of Vela B in Scampia. Despite the dangerous area, the atmosphere inside the man's house is very warm and pleasant.

Prosciutto and Risotto have been there for an hour or so together with Pesci, and they have already sat down in the small living room. Risotto offered his teammate some Cuban cigars and while Melone and Pesci politely declined the offer, Prosciutto was already looking for a lighter in his jacket.

Judging by the scratching of a record player in the background and the trump cards scattered between some empty glasses on the coffee table, the whole evening has been rather peaceful.

After finishing his Americano, Pesci gets up from the sofa to resets Melone’s record player, as the lavender man quickly appears from the kitchen to take back the empty glasses.

“Mele, si nun te spiace io iess a fumare ‘na canna in terrazza...”

(Melone, f you don’t mind, I’ll smoke a joint on your balcony)

“Figurati, fa 'home si fossi a casa tua. il posacenere è già fuori”

(Don't worry, make yourself at home. There’s already an ashtray outside.)

“Grazie Fra’...”

(Thanks Fra’...)

‘Pop Porno’ starts playing in the background.

“Pesci. Non fumi il sigaro offerto dal capo, ma ti fai di quella robaccia?"

(Pesci. You won't accept the cigar offered by the boss, but you're smoking that shit?)

"Lascialo fare, il picciotto ha bisogno di una canna.”

(Let him be, the boy needs a joint.)

Replies Risotto lifting his head to the ceiling and puffing a few ‘O’s with his cigar.

Pesci quickly slips on his coat and hurries out onto the terrace followed by his teammates’ comments. Sitting on the hedge, he lights the joint letting the heat of the lighter warm his hands in the cold of the night.

After a few moments, the boy hears the sound of a pair of tires on the road. Looking down, he recognizes Illuso's Alfa. Then He notices you and Formaggio getting out of the car and decides to inform the others.

"FRAAAA'...è arrivato Formi con Lulù!"

(FRAAAA'...Formi has arrived with Lulu!)

"...Ti sembra che me ne freghi qualcosa?è Ghiaccio quello con la coca."

(...Do I look like I give a damn? Ghiaccio is the one with the coke.)

"... C'è anche la 'uagliona con loro...Poraccia, non si regge in piedi."

(... There's also the 'girl' with them...Poor thing, she’s so drunk she can't stand up.)

“GANZOOOO~ HA FATTO DI MORTO BENE A VENI’ QUI!”

(DI MOLTO! SHE’S HERE TOO!I was waiting for this moment…)

Screams Melone from the kitchen followed by the sound of broken glass.

Risotto

One way or another, Formaggio and Iluso manage to get you to Melone's apartment. Formaggio even carries you on his shoulders for a few flights of stairs while holding the bottle of Baylis in his left hand. In the end, you arrive safely on the 12th floor, maybe a little dizzy.

Standing in front of the door, Illuso ruthlessly pushes the doorbell, pressing it with his elbow instead of his finger.

“Riconosco la sonata, chist’ è Lulù. Si nun e' apriamo a' porta, sicuro che rompe pur chist campanello, proprio come da Formi.”

(This is definitely Lulu. If we don't open the door, he's going to break the doorbell just like He did at Formaggio’s!)

Risotto decides to do the honors of the house and after placing the Cuban cigar in the ashtray, he calmly gets up and goes to open the door, welcoming you with his intimidating stature. His black sclerae observe you from top to bottom.

Noticing your state of devastation while Formaggio holds you up to his shoulder, he smiles mellifluously at you.

“Mizzica’ picciotta, Quanto hai bevuto?Beddra Matri, che le avete dato?”

(Damn baby girl, how much did you drink? What did you give her?)

Risotto grabs both of your hands and holds them tightly to guide you all the way into Melone's living room without knocking you over. He gradually manages to make you sit in his chair. In the meantime, Formaggio and Illuso enter the house and are greeted by Melone, who, being still busy in the kitchen, directly screams:

“BOIADEH BIMBIIIIIIII”

(MY DUUUUUDES!)

“Assèttati picciotta. Moviti ddocu. Lu patruni di lu sceccu è lu 'ncritatu...”

(Sit down girl, don't move. It's easy to see who drank the most in this group…)

“Sera troiette.”

(‘Sup bitches.)

“Bella chicchiiii!”

(What up broooos!)

“Attia! l’avete fatta solo bere?”

(Hey! did you just make her drink?)

Asks Risotto recalling his teammates’ attention while inspecting your arms and eyes.

“Sì capo, niente di niente. Niente Prozac, niente acidi, niente Pollon.”

(Yes capo. She had nothing. no Prozac, no LSD, no coke.)

“...Ovviamente voi non avete mai un cazzo di niente. Dobbiamo aspettare che quell’altro mentecatto ritorni dal casinò.”

(...Of course, you morons got nothing on you. That’s why we have to wait for that mentally challenged moron.)

“Ciao anche a te, testina di cazzo.”

(And good evening to you too, dickhead.)

Illuso replies, giving Prosciutto the finger and heading towards the terrace to greet Pesci...and also to steal him a drag of Mary Jane.

“Pompa su li freni Pro, er duro vallo a fa’ ar cesso.”

(Stop being a cocksucker Pro, you're not that tough.)

“Hai voglia di scherzare Formaggio?”

(Are you in the mood for a joke, Formaggio?)

“Rambo, Butta ‘a fascetta e stai tranco…Se vuoi la polvere, prima devi trovare l’angioletto”

(Calm down, bitch. If you’re looking for the dust, first you have to find the angel.)

Formaggio nods toward you with his head. Prosciutto turns around almost in disbelief and immediately begins to undress you with his eyes. After scanning you long enough, he notices a small bag of cocaine tucked under the strap of your bra and gives you a mischievous smile.

With no hesitation, the man stops crossing his legs on the chair and opens his arms in your direction, the cigar still between his knuckles.

Prosciutto

“Capo, Falla Venire qui”

(Boss, bring her here)

“Amara a tia Prosciutto, non si sente molto bene.”

(Careful Prosciutto. She’s not feeling good.)

“Vieni dal tuo papino bimba, su, non ti faccio niente, avanti… Bravissimaaaaa…”

(Come to daddy, baby girl, that's right..You’re such a good girl…Come here.)

The man warmly invites you to come in his direction by motioning you to sit on his legs. As soon as he has you in his reach, Prosciutto grabs your wrist and pulls you onto his lap, making you casquè just like in Michelangelo’s 'Pietà'.

Without taking his blue eyes off of yours, he brings the cigar between his lips and uses his free hand to slip the bag of coke from your bra, placing it in front of your eyes.

“"E questa? Bambina, non è bello nascondere certe cose al tuo papino...che bambina cattiva.Ma so io come rimediare…”

(And what’s this? Baby girl, it's not nice to hide such things from your daddy...what a naughty little girl. But I know just how to punish you…”

The man's gaze shifts for a second to the coffee table filled with scattered trump cards from the last game of scopa. His eyes are quickly back on yours and clearly say: ‘I’m going to eat you up’. The cigar is gently placed on the ashtray.

“Pesci. Passami una 500 lire."

(Pesci. Hand me a 500 lira bill)

Prosciutto commands, snapping his fingers and extending his arm in the direction of his friend. In the meantime, the man uses the pressure between his thumb and forefinger to open the tiny plastic bag.

“S-Subito Fra’”

(H-here it is Fra'.)

“Non muoverti, bimba...così..bravissima.”

(Don't move, baby doll...yes baby…just like that.)

Prosciutto whispers, intensifying his grip on your arm and lifting your chin with his little finger, so you can face the ceiling. After rudely grabbing the bill, Prosciutto rolls it up as if it were a cigarette and places it between his front teeth. The man's face sinks into your neck while his hand with the bag finely spreads the cocaine on your collarbone, drawing a very thin white line. All you feel for a few seconds is the slightest tickle from the passage of the 500 lira bill.

“AAH, Cazzo che botta! Ho detto, cazzo! che botta!!”

(GODDAMN, I SAID! Goddamn!!)

Suddenly the man's nails sink into your flesh while he still has his face pressed against your neck. You hear his breathing, it's beyond labored like he just ran a marathon.

“Sei stata bravissima, baby.”

(You did great baby.)

“Attia. Guarda che le stai a far male, Scimunito.”

(Hey. You're hurting her. Quit it, moron.)

Risotto decides to intervene by snatching you from Prosciutto's arms and towering over him. Noticing you’re in pain, the man examines your arm and shoots his colleague with bloody eyes.

“Prosciutto,Ti dugnu na boffa ca ppi daritinni n’autra t’avi a veniri a circari a scientifica.”

(I’ll slap you so hard I will need to come looking for you with the CSI to smack you again.)

Prosciutto is sweating as the tension is running high. But before the situation escalates and gets physical, the sound of a horn from the parking lot makes everyone turn to the balcony.

“Mo’ è arrivato er Biancaneve!”

(Ghiaccio is here.)

Says Formaggio as the sound of the horn continues. Melone exits the kitchen and sighs.

“Oh ma perchè contimua a suonare il clacson?!"

(But-Why does he keep honking?Is He deaf or something)

“Maremma Maiala, non trova la ‘hasa. Me tocca scendere”

(Maremma Maiala, now I have to go down the stairs. He won't find the apartment.)

Ghiaccio

Once reached the ground floor with a short breath, since there is no elevator at Le Vele di Scampia, Formaggio and Melone immediately find Ghiaccio, who is swerving across the road on his red Mazda as if he was Schumacher. With one last drift, the Mazda pulls up to a few inches from the two guys as the driver pulls down the window. Ghiaccio's clearly wasted. His pupils are completely dilated, and he’s not wearing his red glasses.”

"BELLA RAGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA…PORCODDÌO,SON TORNATO MERDE!!!"

(IT'S GHIACCIO BIIIIIIITCH. I’M BACK BITCHES!!!WHO WANTS TO SUCK ME DRY?!)

“Eccallà.”

(It’s him.)

Melone immediately leans into the car window and gets hit by a strong smell of vodka and vomit. A quick glance at the passenger seat, and he notices a Montenegro bottle that, unlike the driver, is wearing the safety belt.

But the smell is too strong. The lavender man immediately backs up, covering his mouth and nose with a gloved hand to restrain himself from vomiting.

"UUGH-Mi farai recere..Ghiaccio. La maiala dell’eva troia della maiala de tu mamma zoccola! GLIE ZONA RESIDENZIALE, T'HA INVESTIHO UN CICLISTA E SFASCIAHO 3 CASSONI DELL'UMIDOOO!! Voi ‘he ti sparino??Dove hai gli occhiali?Sei fatto, nini!?"

(EWW…I’m about to throw up…Ghiaccio! You retarded bitch. It’s 2 a.m in the morning. Stop making all this noise! You're in a residential area. You want to get shot? Where are your glasses? Are you high?!)

"Vecio, dovevi vedermi, ghesbòro cazo…ero al club e a na’ certa una bella figona s’avicina e se mete a 90 e-OOOOOOOOOOOOOH C'È SENSO UNICOOOOOO DIOPORCOOOOOO"

(You should have seen me,man I was at the stripclub and after a while a sexy chick came up and bent over for me, so she started to-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHH THIS IS A ONE-WAY ROAD! DIOPORCOOOO!)

After hearing all that nonsense, Formaggio bursts out laughing and nearly rolls on the floor from sheer laughter. In the meantime, Melone is dumbfounded. Ghiaccio has started blowing the car horn again as if he were stuck in traffic, but the street is completely clear. Gradually, various lights start to turn on from the different floors of the apartments. Melone's eyes widen, and he takes the courage to approach the window again.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH! Ghiaccio me fai tajà!”

(Ghiaccio PLEASE! I’M DEAD!!HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA)

" Ma ’he tu fai- A ‘HI SUONi DIOBONINO?! Non ci sta nissuno!!GLIÈ ZONA RESIDEN-Scendi. SCENDI DA STA CAZZO DI MACCHINA. Non sei in condizioni di guidare…"

(What are you doing?! There's no one there!!! YOU'RE IN A- Get out. GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR. You’re too high to drive,gimme your keys…)

Says Melone trying to reach for the car keys in the car ignition but Ghiaccio quickly and angrily slaps his hand. He’s furious.

"TASI DIOBÖIA TU SU LA MI MACHINA NON CI SALI, Nasì proprio a cagar, ti, to fradeo e to sorea! 'Siete proprio dei rotti in cul', coca da mì? Zero. MA VA’ A REMENGO!"

(SHUT IT YOU STUPID CUNT! YOU'RE NOT GETTING INTO MY CAR, you won't get even 1 gram of coke from me. Assholes. SUCK MY BALLS!)

That being said, Ghiaccio rolls up the window, almost getting Melone’s hand stuck in between, then He turns the keys in the ignition and drives off at full speed while his friends are shouting and waving behind him. In doing so, Ghiaccio almost knocks off the mirror of Illuso’s car parked a few meters away as he rolls down all the car windows at once and starts screaming:

"PO-PO-PO-PORCO DIO! PO-PO-PO-PORCO DIO! OGGI HO VINTO SESSANTAMILA LIRE ALLE MACCHINETTE!!!"

(PO-PO-PO-PORCO DIO! PO-PO-PO-PORCO DIO! TODAY I WON SIXTY THOUSAND LIRAS AT THE SLOT MACHINE!!!)

“AHO’’ GHIACCIO! STAI FORI COLL'ACCUSO! ACCANNA MO’!”

(GHIACCIO YOU’RE ACTING LIKE A FUCKING SISSY! COME BACK YOU CUNT!)

Screams Formaggio, trying to run after him and stopping just after a few meters. Melone finally loses his patience:

“IR BUDELLO DE TU MA GHIACCIO MAREMMA DIAHOLA FRENA, FRENAAAAAAA!! DILA’ è STRADA CHIUSA! Sai ‘hosa?! LA TU MAMMA NUN LA TROMBEREBBE MANCO UN PADOVANO DA QUANTO L'È UN ROITO!! FA COME I DU BISCHERI DE VOSTRO TERRAZZINO DI MERDA! AMMAZZATI!!”

(STOP THE CAR!!! It's a closed road! You know what? VERONA IS NOT THE BEST CITY IN VENETO! Was your mother by chance Juliet Capulet? Cause she fucked the first man she found. Too bad she didn't commit suicide!!)

The Mazda brakes abruptly raising dust and debris.

“....Aò,mi sa che t’ha sentito.C’avrà la mamma di Verona?CE L’HA! CE L’HA!HA MESSO LA RETRO! CORRI BISCHERO! CORRI!”

(...Hey, I think he heard you. Is his mother from Verona? Oh shit, she is. SHE IS! THE RED LIGHTS ARE ON! THE REVERSE GEAR IS ON!RUN MY TUSCAN FRIEND!RUN).

Melone

Fifteen minutes later, Ghiaccio headed up to the apartment with the others. After knocking on the door as loud as Jack in The Shining, the man enters without asking permission followed by Melone who now has a big black eye reminding him never to talk shit about Ghiaccio's mother. Lucky for him, his purple mask covers it perfectly. On the other way, Formaggio is completely unharmed and is entering the house with the smuggest face.

“Abbiamo seguito tutto dal balcone!Che spettacolo troiette!”

(We watched the whole thing from the balcony! What a great show, bitches!)

Ghiaccio unceremoniously throws a brick of pure cocaine on the coffee table and begins to look around. In the meantime, Melone runs to the kitchen to finish the drinks he was preparing before he arrived. After a while, he notices that you're sitting on a small sofa with Pesci and decides to get closer.

“ Voi avete ciapato cassi per attaccapanni se pensavate che non l’avrei menato diocàn.. Ma tu si na masa gnòca, ghesbòro.”

(You're crazy if you thought I wouldn't beat him up…Wow. I didn’t know you fags brought a hot chick with you.)

Ghiaccio looks directly into your eyes as he sticks his hands in his pockets and pulls out the 600,000 liras he won at the slot machine.

“Spogliati.”

(Take off your clothes.)

He orders throwing the money at you. Formaggio immediately steps in, saving the day.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH! Perdonalo, non ti ha riconosciuta, Chicca. Aò Biancaneve! Mettiti gli occhiali. È la chicca!"

(HAHAHAHAHAAHAH! Forgive him, he didn't recognize you, babe. Ghiaccio! Put your glasses on. You’re not in the strip club anymore!)

Ghiaccio follows his friend's advice and finally puts his glasses on. They’re really dirty.

"Dioböia chi t’aveva riconosciuta!”

(FUCK! It’s you. I didn’t recognize you.)

Shortly after, Melone makes his appearance from the kitchen, carrying a cabaret full of cocktails and starting to roam around the living room, serving each person their own drink.

"Siciliano pe' il capo…"

(For the Capo, A Siciliano)

"Grazie, picciotto."

(Thank you)

Replies Risotto with a nod.

"Pe’ Pro, Tequila liscia"

(Straight Tequila for Prosciutto)

"...Grazie"

(...thanks)

"Aò, in quali di questi ce sta la droga dello stupro?"

(Aò, Which one has the rape drug in it?)

Asks Formaggio while grabbing his Cardinale.

"Ie ce l'ho messa n tutti, tanto pe’ esse sihuro. Ghiaccio, Tra ninnoli e nannoli e so riusciho a fa sto troiaio de Spritz, però gliè bono baho!! Pigliane un goccio e dimmi chettu ne pensi!"

(In all of them! I don't play favorites. Ghiaccio look. I made you a Spritz, tell me what you think!)

"...Dioporselàso sei ci hai messo il Campari te facio un bucio anca nell'altro occhio e ti dò una testata nel cuore."

(...Goddamn, if you put Campari instead of Aperol I'll fucking punch you again and then I'll rip your heart off.)

Finally, Melone approaches you with a wicked smile, offering you a bizarre cocktail served in a martini glass. The cocktail is called Angelo Azzurro and is as blue as his eyes.

"tieni nina, un be’ bicchierino pe’ ‘na bella fiha"

(Here honey, this is for you, it's a new recipe.)

"Grazie."

(Thanks.)

Illuso steals your cocktail with no hesitation but it’s immediately stopped by Melone who covers the martini glass with one hand before the man can take the first sip.

"OI OI, Ma ‘he tu fai? L'angelo azzurro è pe’ la bimba, non pe’ te. Metti giù il bicchiere."

(OHI OHI, What are you doing? The Angelo Azzurro is for the girl, not you. Put the glass down.)

"E a me che cazzo me ne frega, scusa?"

(And who gives a shit? It’s mine now.)

Illuso insists and tries to grab the martini glass one more time from Melone's gloved hand.

"Maremma buhaiola, ho aperto quello schifo di Brut solo per fa’ sto troiaio de Negroni Sbagliato, ‘hè sei tarmente fighetta ‘he non riesci a bere quello co’ Gin…Adesso mi vieni a dire ‘he non lo voi e ‘he bevi l'Angelo Azzurro ,‘he pe’ la bimba e ‘he c’ha 6 dita solo di Gin!"

(Maremma buhaiola, No it’s not! I opened that disgusting bottle of Brut just to make you a Negroni Sbagliato cause’ your sissy ass can’t handle Gin! And now you tell me you don't want it! AND NOT JUST THAT, You also you want to drink the Angelo Azzurro which is made with 6 fingers of gin alone!)

"E allora? Se avessi voluto bermi un Negroni mi sarei preso un Negroni. Stasera ho voglia di Angelo Azzurro, quindi mi piglio l'Angelo Azzurro!Non starmi a rompere i coglioni! "

(So what? Tonight I'm in the mood for an Angelo Azzurro, so I'll have the Angelo Azzurro! Stop fucking with me!)

"Lulù dai, se t’ha detto che è pe' la chicca, è pe' la chicca…"

(C'mon Lulu, if he told you it's for the girl, it's for the girl.)

"La ‘chicca’ può bersi il Negroni Sbagliato, no?"

(The girl can drink the Negroni Sbagliato, can't she?)

Tired of the whining, Illuso snatches the cocktail from Melone's hands and swallows it in one gulp. The rest of the team looks at him in astonishment.

"te sí un mona. Un mona bello grosso."

(You’re Retarded. Definitely retarded.)

" UGH…coff…con…con cosa l'hai tagliato? Ha un sapore strano…"

(YHAK!.. cough... What.. what did put in here? It tastes strange…)

"’A INFAMEI!ER MIO E’ NORMALE!"

(SO YOU DO PLAY FAVOURITES! MINE’S FINE!)

“ECCOLO I BECCO!! TE LO DICEOH GLIERA CORRETTO!! MAREMMA MAIALA TROIA, CE L’AVEO GIA’ BARZOTTO…dello Stilnox sprecato ‘hosì! Poco male Lulù, vorrà dire che stasera tocca a te.I' gioco vole i' seguito!”

( YOU DUMBFUCK. HOW ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU I SPIKED IT?! I guess you’re coming with me tonight…I’m not gonna waste some good Stilnox like this.)

The whole gang starts laughing out loud and teasing Illuso who is now looking extra pale.

“Ti do’ un’oretta e poi sarai steso sul pavimento privo di sensi e non ricorderai nulla di quello che è successo.”

(I'll give you an hour, and then you'll be lying on the floor unconscious and won't remember anything that happened.)

“Un fa' ì ganella! massimo due orette, non l’aveo carcolato pe’ lui!”

(Don't be a smart-ass, the doses weren't meant for him. I'll give him two hours.)

"MORIRÒ. ME LO SENTO! HO PURE PIPPATO SUL TV SORRISI E CANZONI PRIMA! NON L'AVEVO MANCO LETTO QUEL NUMERO! NON SAPRO' MAI IL MIO OROSCOPO DI PAOLO FOX!! "

(I WILL DIE. I FEEL IT! I SNORTED COKE EARLIER ON A 'TV, SORRISI E CANZONI' MAGAZINE! I HAVEN'T EVEN READ IT YET! NOW I WILL NEVER KNOW MY HOROSCOPE BY PAOLO FOX! )

As Illuso collapses to the ground like the ultimate drama queen, Risotto puts a hand on your shoulder and says:

"Sùsiti picciotta. Ti riporto a casa. Cu vuatri fazzu i conti duoppu.Nun pensate di averla scampata"

(I am taking you home. I'll take car of you later.Don't think you got away with it.)