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About Palermo

But then – ugh – this creep rolls up, all sweaty, tryna haggle her down to 20. Pissed me off, man, I’m like, “Mate, she ain’t a fuckin flea market!” Wanted to gut him, serve him up with chianti, ya feel me? “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I mutter, glarin at him. She’s crackin up, says, “You’re weird, I like it.” Happy as hell, I am – rare vibe, that.

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After what feels like an eternity, my computer’s back. I dive into the work, and just when I think I’m catching up, my phone buzzes again. It’s my mom. She’s like, “You coming for dinner?” I’m like, “Ma, I’m swamped!” But she’s persistent. “You need to eat!” Classic mom, right?

Clash at Tecchiena: A Match Marred by Violence