Mum scolds Matteo

In the old days, "going to the Villa", used to mean going to buy hashish in Monza,
in the park, behind the ancient royal residence.
There were various characters: misfits and smart guys, junkies and dangerous people.
A mix of those four elements.
One of them, Sasà, was very funny.
He used to tell me: "Ué long-haired boy! Wear the helmet!".
Me: "why?".
"Because this smoke will break your horns! ahahahaha!"
Then there was Libero.
A nice guy, maybe too much, for the world surrounding us.
Ironically, in opposition with his name, meaning "free" in italian, he was often jailed.
I remember his girlfriend:
pudgy, dull, crooked, always fucked up.
Lying on a flea plaid,
she croaked harshly:
"Matteo son-of-a-bitch, you are going to lose my stone!".
Addressed to a three/four year old baby that was running with a cyloom in his hands.
Her son.
My dog pissed on her
while I was buying hashish from the boyfriend
I pretended like he was not my dog.
In that park, I left him off the leash.

--B-A-R-A-B-B-A--D-A--S-E-R-E-G-N-O--

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