Leagues Under The Sea x 2

Ecks has now written 40,000 words of his new novel. Slow going, but then it is only written during lunch hours when he is at work. Productivity should increase in early March when he gets a laptop, though. Below is another excerpt, linked to the previous one...

Il Mafioso Arrabbiato

Umberto Cappello is doing what? No, I don’t believe it. No-one can be that arrogant. Or that stupid. Now leave me to finish my breakfast.

You’re still here. Why are you still here? Yes, I heard you, but you can’t possibly expect me to believe it. Gennaro, tell him it is not true. Tell him, and then take him away and have him shot for ruining my breakfast. Why are you just standing there? Don’t just stand there, Gennaro, do it! It’s not…it’s not true, is it? Is this true, Gennaro, this unsettling story that he is telling me? It is? Well, that has definitely ruined my breakfast. These eggs were perfect, but now they are shitty. You, come over here and clear these shitty eggs away before I…no, no, just clear them away. Now, Gennaro, come here and sit down and tell me exactly what this little bastard Umberto Cappello is doing setting up some kind of operation on my territory. What is it he’s running? Heroin? Well, I have the grace to admit it’s a good idea he’s come up with. No-one would think of looking for Turkish heroin in barrels of monastic beer…but he has been fantastically, monumentally stupid if he thinks I am just going to sit by on my arse and watch him bring in the cream from my monastery. You do see how it is my monastery, don’t you Gennaro? Yes, quite. Thank you, I thought so.

He must be soft in the head. To think that he could get away with it, such a thing on my own land! Who does he think he is, that son of a pox-ridden filthy scabrous whore’s dog, coming around here and pissing on my doorstep in this manner? Oh, if only he knew the pain he was causing me, and me with my delicate constitution. You know, Mamma always said I should have been an artist.

His brother, though, his brother Santino is one of the old guard, a true gentleman. He has been nothing but honourable in all the time that I’ve known him. But this whoreson is trying my patience. Am I not renowned for my patience? Yes, Gennaro, I know I am. It was a rhetorical question. Rhetorical. Look it up. I don’t know, a dictionary. I don’t…listen, forget about it, you idiot, that’s not the point. The point is…oh, now you’ve made me forget what I was going to say. Carlo? Carlo! Come here. Take Gennaro away, explain to him the meaning of the word rhetorical, and then have him shot for making me forget what I…no, I remember now. I was going to…what are you doing? No, leave him there, Carlo. Yes, I know what I said, but I’ve changed my mind.

Now, where was I? Gennaro, I need you to organise a little something for me. We need to get over to this monastery…what was the name of it, the monastery? San Pietro di Montechiaro? We need to get over there and get rid of this little pig Umberto. As soon as possible. What? No, guns. Guns! Get me as many guns as you can find, and as many of my men as can hold them. You’ll have to go with them, of course, you know how I hate the sight of blood. A fucking monastery! Heretical whelp, I’ll have him so full of lead that they’ll need a dozen men to carry his coffin. Him and everyone else there. I know, I know, it is a shame, I don’t like to kill men of the cloth. But they will be in his pocket, no doubt, paid off with…with whatever it is that monks want. Nuns, probably. No matter, kill them all. No lackeys, no accomplices, no witnesses. I shall just have to say some Hail Marys tonight.

Just make sure. Make sure that you leave no-one alive.