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About Rome

I’ve seen it, ya know—shady parlors off Route 66, neon buzzin’ like flies on a corpse. Once knew a guy, Tony, greasy little mechanic—swore he got “enlightened” by some chick’s “magic hands.” Bullshit! Looked more like he’d been wrestled by a trucker. Made me laugh so hard I nearly choked on my chianti. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d quip—Tony’d just stare, clueless(\'cept he didn’t get it, the dumb lug).

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Anyway, I finally finish a batch of pots. They’re looking good, if I do say so myself. I’m feeling proud, like I just won the pottery Olympics or something. But then, I hear this loud crash. My heart drops. I run outside, and there’s this tourist, like, totally wrecking my display! I’m ready to lose it. “What are you doing, man?!”

Atlantide challenges Acicastello in the Coppa Italia quarter-finals: the semi-final is the goal