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Nessun Problema, Capufamigghia!

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It was an unusual assignment for Luca and me. But what the Capufamigghia wants, we Capudecinas do. My name is Ambroggiu, but I’m usually called “u curto.”

A socio, an associate of the family, named Stanislao Russo, had been responsible for an amount of money due the Capu, from the sinnacu, the mayor, of our town. Stanislao has disappeared with the money. This was important. The Capu didn’t really care so much about the money. But it was an nsultari, an insult; he would be shamed in the community by the betrayal. Our Capu always punished insults to his authority - severely. To not do so would be to look debbuli, weak.

The Capu asked us to go to Russo’s house and ask his wife where he was. He said we should return with any information she could give. And we were to make her a message to all to show how the Capu rewards disloyalty.

We made our way to the house, which was on the outskirts of town, nicely isolated for any screams. But, we knew la famigghia crest on our car would immediately discourage anyone from the villaggiu from snooping.

Luca and I walked to the door. We don’t bother with a lot of equipment; we’d always found there was plenty in the household items to use for persuasion. Sometimes crude, but always effective. I just carried my shotgun and had a switchblade in my jacket pocket. Luca rarely drew his Beretta, but he had his stiletto in his hand (a gift from his father on his twelfth birthday, that weapon was still razor sharp after having killed over 40 men).

Luca is enormi, 190 cm. and broad, plenty of muscle, 102 Kg. He looks like an animal, but he is actually graceful. Absolutely loyal, I have never doubted that I could count on him for my life. Despite his size, Luca rarely used his fists or his strength. He was a master of the Scherma di stiletto siciliano (Sicilian school of stiletto fighting). He could plunge the stiletto to the hilt and then rapidly twist the blade in several directions to cause the maximum damage before withdrawing and leaving just a small entrance wound.

I’m short, 166, that’s why my nickname, which is Sicilian for “the short one”. I don’t mind; I eserciziu and have all the strength I need. I’m 69 kg. I have my trademark birritta and mustache. I can shoot the eyes out of a colombacci on the wing at thirty paces. Despite that and my size, I prefer getting in close with my fists. The crunch and mashing of flesh and bone is so satisfying that I hate to kill someone fast with a gun. Even if they get in a punch or two, I don’t mind. I’ve always been good at taking a beating!

I pounded on the door. In a moment, Calògira Russo, Cal for short, answered the door.
She was younger than I’d expected, maybe 32. She was bedda (beautiful), marruni hair, medium height – maybe 170 cm, trim corpu. This job could have benefici collaterali, side benefits.
 
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Praefectus Praetorio said:
It was an unusual assignment for Luca and me. But what the Capufamigghia wants, we Capudecinas do. My name is Ambroggiu, but I’m usually called “u curto.”

A socio, an associate of the family, named Stanislao Russo, had been responsible for an amount of money due the Capu, from the sinnacu, the mayor, of our town. Stanislao has disappeared with the money. This was important. The Capu didn’t really care so much about the money. But it was an nsultari, an insult; he would be shamed in the community by the betrayal. Our Capu always punished insults to his authority - severely. To not do so would be to look debbuli, weak.

The Capu asked us to go to Russo’s house and ask his wife where he was. He said we should return with any information she could give. And we were to make her a message to all to show how the Capu rewards disloyalty.

We made our way to the house, which was on the outskirts of town, nicely isolated for any screams. But, we knew la famigghia crest on our car would immediately discourage anyone from the villaggiu from snooping.

Luca and I walked to the door. We don’t bother with a lot of equipment; we’d always found there was plenty in the household items to use for persuasion. Sometimes crude, but always effective. I just carried my shotgun and had a switchblade in my jacket pocket. Luca rarely drew his Beretta, but he had his stiletto in his hand (a gift from his father on his twelfth birthday, that weapon was still razor sharp after having killed over 40 men).

Luca is enormi, 190 cm. and broad, plenty of muscle, 102 Kg. He looks like an animal, but he is actually graceful. Absolutely loyal, I have never doubted that I could count on him for my life. Despite his size, Luca rarely used his fists or his strength. He was a master of the Scherma di stiletto siciliano (Sicilian school of stiletto fighting). He could plunge the stiletto to the hilt and then rapidly twist the blade in several directions to cause the maximum damage before withdrawing and leaving just a small entrance wound.

I’m short, 166, that’s why my nickname, which is Sicilian for “the short one”. I don’t mind; I eserciziu and have all the strength I need. I’m 69 kg. I have my trademark birritta and mustache. I can shoot the eyes out of a colombacci on the wing at thirty paces. Despite that and my size, I prefer getting in close with my fists. The crunch and mashing of flesh and bone is so satisfying that I hate to kill someone fast with a gun. Even if they get in a punch or two, I don’t mind. I’ve always been good at taking a beating!

I pounded on the door. In a moment, Calògira Russo, Cal for short, answered the door.
She was younger than I’d expected, maybe 32. She was bedda (beautiful), marruni hair, medium height – maybe 170 cm, trim corpu. This job could have benefici collaterali, side benefits.
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Your efforts to set the narration in Sicily is geatly appreciated and narration enjoyable. Thanks. Only kindly allow some informative notes for better precision :
- 'curto' is written amd pronounced ''Cuttu''
- 'colombacci' : singular is 'colombaccio'
- the first name 'Ambroggiu' correctly spelling 'Ambrogio': it is very hard to find someone with this name in Sicily, while it is the most used in Milan and surroundings
- 'Calogira' is actually "Calogera"
- Stanislao Russo should be a Sicilian descendant , at least in part, from Russian or Eastern Europe's ancestors to get his first name associated to a tipically Sicilian second name.
I thoroughly understand the difficulties of a non sicilian in this respect: above remarks therefore do not intend to diminish in any way the value of your efforts.
 
ShadowWolf said:
Is there more to the setup of the story?
Click to expand...
I'm not sure what you mean. I think the answer is no.
Story continues Duminica (Sunday).
Loxuru said:
Before the story continues, bring me first a pizza and a bottle of Sicilian wine!
Click to expand...

Divertimentu: A fedda of Sicilian Pizza1096px-Sfincione_palermitano.jpg A buttigghia of Sicilian WineSicilian-Wines.jpgabbunnanzza!
 
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Oh.
The answer is still no. Cuttu and Luca are what you see, (you do get to hear some of Cuttu's thoughts) unquestioningly obedient to the Capu and brutal.
Cala is just an innocent Sicilian housewife caught up in her husband's mad scheme.
 
Cala knew something was very wrong. First her husband was gone with no explanation for a day, and now we show up. She knew we were della famigghia, of the family. Her eyes were wide and she backed slowly away from us as we walked in and Luca shut the door behind us. Her fear made her more attractive to me. Big brown eyes, filled with terror. She wore a red cotton house-dress, which half concealed, half displayed her nice body.

Cala had the look of a cornered animal. The back of one hand to her mouth, eyes wide and darting around as if looking for an escape, her other arm wrapping her midriff protectively, tentatively stepping back and away.

Luca raised his stiletto for her to see. A sharp intake of breath. The 23 cm. of razor-pointed steel is very scary. I went to rummage the house for some equipment. Neither of us said anything. Capudecinas don’t need to explain themselves.

In a couple of minutes, I returned with a length of nice rope. Luca had held Cala with her back pressed against the wall shrinking from his stiletto. He likes teasing a victim by dragging the point across their body with a constant threat of it slipping deeply in. With an attractive fimmina like Cala, he teased the breasts, belly and crotch. Her eyes were filled with tears and sweat ran down her chest between her breasts.

I began cutting the rope to useful lengths. My switchblade went through it like it was string.

I went over to Cala and relieved Luca.

“Take off your dress, cagna (bitch),” I spoke my first words.

Her fear was now out of control. She just shook her head violently and cried, “Per favuri, per favuri, per favuri! Risparmiami (Spare me)!”

I used the barrel of my shotgun to hit her on the side of the face. The force knocked her to the floor. “Get up and take off your dress, cagna.”

I waited. Sobbing, she got to her knees, holding her right hand to her face. Then she struggled to her feet in front of me. As she lowered her hands to undress, I saw the cut just under her right eye and the nasty bruise already forming. She peeled off her house dress and stood in the matching red bra and panties. She had a great corpu for a housewife in her thirties – full breasts, presented high in her bra, a narrow waist and generous hips. Yes, we would have some fun with her.

We had her sit in one of the heavy, ladder-backed chairs from the dinner table. It’s always a good idea to have a sturdy chair; even a piccola woman can break a chair when she struggles enough.

We tied her ankles to the front legs and her hands together behind her back. Then we got down to business.

“Where is your husband?”

“I don’t know! Oh please, don’t hurt me!” If only she knew how much we would hurt her.

“What have you got, Luca?”

“Screwdrivers. Stanislao must be handy. He left a set of a dozen. I have them heating on the stove. I’ll go get a couple.”

“Is that right, Cala? Is your husband good with his hands? Do you like his hands on your body?”

“Please, Signore, please. I don’t know anything. Please.”

I hit her again, this time with my fist to her mouth, cutting her lip. That felt so good. It caused a real stirring in my loins.
 
“You didn’t answer my question, bottana. Do you like your husband’s hands on your body?”

“Yess,” she slurred through her swollen lip.

“How about my hands?’ I pushed down her right bra-cup and grabbed the nipple and crushed it in a vice grip – I said I work out.

“Agghhh!”

That conversation would have been fun to continue, but Luca came back from the kitchen with two long screwdrivers and handed me one. We had a job to do so we went right to her. Luca jabbed his hot screwdriver into her right arm with a sizzle and fumo and a nice grido (scream) from Cala. A moment later I laid mine on the nice swell of her lower stomach. She jumped enough to make the chair move a few inches.

Over the next half hour, we worked the bottana over good. Small burns from the screwdrivers on many parts of her body, but especially her breasts (we soon had cut off her bra and panties) and her inner thighs. Well-placed punches to her belly and breasts and ribcage (I might have broken one). And some subtle cuts at her nipples and pussy with the switchblade.

At the end she told us nothing about where Russo might be. No surprise, but we had to make sure. By the time we finished, she would have betrayed her mother and her newborn child to stop the pain.

Luca and I agreed we would get nothing more and we discussed what we had both been thinking. So, we untied her and hustled her off to the bedroom where we sampled her mercanzia for a while.

When we finished, she lay on the matarazzu making a pitiful sight. Cuts, burns and bruises over her body and sperma mixed with blood dripping from her holes and mouth. We were done with most of our work. Just one more thing – we had to leave le note, so all would fear crossing the Capufamigghia.
 
I had been thinking of how we could finish Cala to send the kind of message the Capu wanted. Then Luca came up with a brilliant idea (I told you he was smart – he just looks like an animal.) He had been reading a book about Christian Martyrs. He said “Why don’t we nail her to the door, like a cross. That will leave a strong message.”

Cala was too weak to fight us anymore, and, besides, I don’t think she heard him. We got her off the bed and dragged her toward the front door. I told her, “We’re finished now, Cala. We’ll leave you.” She groaned some kind of a response. Maybe she’d heard me. Maybe she had hope of surviving.

Luce got a hammer and some large spike nails from Stanislao’s toolkit along with large round washers. He said the spike heads weren’t very large and he’d use the washers to make sure she didn’t pull off. Did I tell you he’s ingegnosu?

I held her up against the door with her one arm up to the corner and Luca placed the spike with the washer in the middle of her wrist. A strong, accurate swing of the hammer drove the sharp spike through her flesh and into the wood.

Cala screamed louder than even during the torture. It took all my strength to keep her arm steady as Luca hammered the spike home with two more blows. Blood was spurting from the wound.

I forced her other arm up and she cried and begged and struggled wildly. When Luce struck the first blow, she exploded with sound and her whole body thrust out from the door. After we finished with her arms, we nailed her legs spread by the ankles.

The finishing touch was a paper attached to her breasts with her husband’s carpet staple gun. It read:

Traditura! Nun Ci Avvicinate! (Traitor – don’t get close to her)

With a hand-drawn family crest.

Nuddu (no one) would touch her until the Capufamigghia gave permission.


Epilog:

The Capufamigghia was very pleased with our work. He kissed us both and gave us each a bottle of his best Nerello Mascalese, a special honor.

Of course, Stanislao was soon located. The Capu turned him over to Marcu, his specialist at this work.

The ultimate honor paid Luca and I was that two days later, Stanislao appeared at his house, nailed to a door, next to Cala. The Capu and Marco, clearly approved of our idea!
 
Signore Praetorio,


From my nephew Aldo Albero from the American state of Arkansas, I have been drawn attention to a somewhat insolent story, you have posted on this forum.

Although your story is written and told well, and although it is based on a front cover drawing from some obscure comic pulp strip for adults, I want to inform you that I am all but pleased about the content of the story. It is once more a biased and one-sided depiction of Sicily and its people.

Your story, Signore, suggests that we Sicilians are cruel, rude, violent, brainless brutes, who terrorize their fellow citizens, murder then, molest them, invade other’s homes and even harm their women.

The famigglias of Sicily, Signore Praetorio, are neither gangsters, nor crooks, as you suggest, but proud, hard working people. We grow, manufacture and trade wine, olive oil, grain, cheeses, spices and vegetables, which are all iconic products of the good life of Italian culture! We care about quality and fair commerce! We Sicilians, make the Italian dolce vita come true! Thanks to the competence of our capufammighi, which are among the best, the finest and the most honest businessmen in Italy!

Allegations of so-called ‘mafia’ (cursed be the word) are just false accusations, from our unworthy competitors, who are simply jealous about our achievements, of the quality of our products, and of the wealth our hard work has brought.

Of course, Signore, I shall not deny that, even in this great community of Sicily, there are rotten apples, moochers, looters, thieves, who want to steal the fruits of our proud capufammighia’s hard labour. Therefore, Signore Praetoria, we need to engage a few stout and brave, but honorable men, like Ambroggiu and Luca, in order to protect our works, our goods and our possessions. This is however not because we promote violence above the law. Yet, unfortunately, the corrupt and incompetent regime in faraway Roma simply is not interested in the assets of Sicily, and keeps our local police forces severely undermanned. Therefore, unfortunately, we must take law and order enforcement in our own hands! But I assure you, Signore Praetorio, that such men as you depict in your story, like Ambroggiu and Luca, are in reality men of honour, trustworthy, good, pious Catholics, family men, who will never threaten, molest, tie-up, strip, torture or violate the chastity and honour of an innocent woman like Signora Russo, as you describe in your story! God-fearing Christians as they are, they will definitely never commit the blasphemy to inflict to someone the punishment of crucifixion! They will never even point a finger towards a woman like Signora Russo, leave the point of a dagger! You story is all fake and unbelievably imaginative about that!

But, I understand, Signore Praetorio, you have written your story rather by ignorance about the real Sicily. You have been surfing on the popular misconceptions, on fake myths, about our great island and the proud people that live on it. I will assume that, rather than acting on purpose to harm or insult us, you simply are badly informed. So, I shall forgive you all the nonsense you spread about the community of Sicily, and reconciliate.

Yours Truly,

Don Loxuru,
Capufammighia,
Corleone, Sicily

PS please find, as a traditional Sicilian sign of reconciliation, the head of your favourite racing horse in the enclosed package.
And you are always welcome to visit the real Sicily. Just give me a sign and I shall dispatch Ambroggiu and Luca to pick you up at the airport.
 
Loxuru said:
Signore Praetorio,


From my nephew Aldo Albero from the American state of Arkansas, I have been drawn attention to a somewhat insolent story, you have posted on this forum.

Although your story is written and told well, and although it is based on a front cover drawing from some obscure comic pulp strip for adults, I want to inform you that I am all but pleased about the content of the story. It is once more a biased and one-sided depiction of Sicily and its people.

Your story, Signore, suggests that we Sicilians are cruel, rude, violent, brainless brutes, who terrorize their fellow citizens, murder then, molest them, invade other’s homes and even harm their women.

The famigglias of Sicily, Signore Praetorio, are neither gangsters, nor crooks, as you suggest, but proud, hard working people. We grow, manufacture and trade wine, olive oil, grain, cheeses, spices and vegetables, which are all iconic products of the good life of Italian culture! We care about quality and fair commerce! We Sicilians, make the Italian dolce vita come true! Thanks to the competence of our capufammighi, which are among the best, the finest and the most honest businessmen in Italy!

Allegations of so-called ‘mafia’ (cursed be the word) are just false accusations, from our unworthy competitors, who are simply jealous about our achievements, of the quality of our products, and of the wealth our hard work has brought.

Of course, Signore, I shall not deny that, even in this great community of Sicily, there are rotten apples, moochers, looters, thieves, who want to steal the fruits of our proud capufammighia’s hard labour. Therefore, Signore Praetoria, we need to engage a few stout and brave, but honorable men, like Ambroggiu and Luca, in order to protect our works, our goods and our possessions. This is however not because we promote violence above the law. Yet, unfortunately, the corrupt and incompetent regime in faraway Roma simply is not interested in the assets of Sicily, and keeps our local police forces severely undermanned. Therefore, unfortunately, we must take law and order enforcement in our own hands! But I assure you, Signore Praetorio, that such men as you depict in your story, like Ambroggiu and Luca, are in reality men of honour, trustworthy, good, pious Catholics, family men, who will never threaten, molest, tie-up, strip, torture or violate the chastity and honour of an innocent woman like Signora Russo, as you describe in your story! God-fearing Christians as they are, they will definitely never commit the blasphemy to inflict to someone the punishment of crucifixion! They will never even point a finger towards a woman like Signora Russo, leave the point of a dagger! You story is all fake and unbelievably imaginative about that!

But, I understand, Signore Praetorio, you have written your story rather by ignorance about the real Sicily. You have been surfing on the popular misconceptions, on fake myths, about our great island and the proud people that live on it. I will assume that, rather than acting on purpose to harm or insult us, you simply are badly informed. So, I shall forgive you all the nonsense you spread about the community of Sicily, and reconciliate.

Yours Truly,

Don Loxuru,
Capufammighia,
Corleone, Sicily

PS please find, as a traditional Sicilian sign of reconciliation, the head of your favourite racing horse in the enclosed package.
And you are always welcome to visit the real Sicily. Just give me a sign and I shall dispatch Ambroggiu and Luca to pick you up at the airport.
Click to expand...
Thank you for correcting my misapprehensions. I look forward to visiting and enjoying your hospitality (renowned far and wide to be much superior to Bedouin hospitality) in the near future!
 
Loxuru said:
Signore Praetorio,


From my nephew Aldo Albero from the American state of Arkansas, I have been drawn attention to a somewhat insolent story, you have posted on this forum.

Although your story is written and told well, and although it is based on a front cover drawing from some obscure comic pulp strip for adults, I want to inform you that I am all but pleased about the content of the story. It is once more a biased and one-sided depiction of Sicily and its people.

Your story, Signore, suggests that we Sicilians are cruel, rude, violent, brainless brutes, who terrorize their fellow citizens, murder then, molest them, invade other’s homes and even harm their women.
Click to expand...

Unfortunately to late as Postscriptum in the e-Book. Well written Lox!
 
One of my favorite meals ever was pasta with black ink squid sauce, topped with mozzarella cheese in a traditional little tratoria in Siracusa. I have many more fond memories of Sicily. The hubby and I have visited twice, and we both want to return someday.

And one of my favorite books is The Leopard.

So more stories from bella Sicilia please!
 
Loxuru said:
Signore Praetorio,


From my nephew Aldo Albero from the American state of Arkansas, I have been drawn attention to a somewhat insolent story, you have posted on this forum.

Although your story is written and told well, and although it is based on a front cover drawing from some obscure comic pulp strip for adults, I want to inform you that I am all but pleased about the content of the story. It is once more a biased and one-sided depiction of Sicily and its people.

Your story, Signore, suggests that we Sicilians are cruel, rude, violent, brainless brutes, who terrorize their fellow citizens, murder then, molest them, invade other’s homes and even harm their women.

The famigglias of Sicily, Signore Praetorio, are neither gangsters, nor crooks, as you suggest, but proud, hard working people. We grow, manufacture and trade wine, olive oil, grain, cheeses, spices and vegetables, which are all iconic products of the good life of Italian culture! We care about quality and fair commerce! We Sicilians, make the Italian dolce vita come true! Thanks to the competence of our capufammighi, which are among the best, the finest and the most honest businessmen in Italy!

Allegations of so-called ‘mafia’ (cursed be the word) are just false accusations, from our unworthy competitors, who are simply jealous about our achievements, of the quality of our products, and of the wealth our hard work has brought.

Of course, Signore, I shall not deny that, even in this great community of Sicily, there are rotten apples, moochers, looters, thieves, who want to steal the fruits of our proud capufammighia’s hard labour. Therefore, Signore Praetoria, we need to engage a few stout and brave, but honorable men, like Ambroggiu and Luca, in order to protect our works, our goods and our possessions. This is however not because we promote violence above the law. Yet, unfortunately, the corrupt and incompetent regime in faraway Roma simply is not interested in the assets of Sicily, and keeps our local police forces severely undermanned. Therefore, unfortunately, we must take law and order enforcement in our own hands! But I assure you, Signore Praetorio, that such men as you depict in your story, like Ambroggiu and Luca, are in reality men of honour, trustworthy, good, pious Catholics, family men, who will never threaten, molest, tie-up, strip, torture or violate the chastity and honour of an innocent woman like Signora Russo, as you describe in your story! God-fearing Christians as they are, they will definitely never commit the blasphemy to inflict to someone the punishment of crucifixion! They will never even point a finger towards a woman like Signora Russo, leave the point of a dagger! You story is all fake and unbelievably imaginative about that!

But, I understand, Signore Praetorio, you have written your story rather by ignorance about the real Sicily. You have been surfing on the popular misconceptions, on fake myths, about our great island and the proud people that live on it. I will assume that, rather than acting on purpose to harm or insult us, you simply are badly informed. So, I shall forgive you all the nonsense you spread about the community of Sicily, and reconciliate.

Yours Truly,

Don Loxuru,
Capufammighia,
Corleone, Sicily

PS please find, as a traditional Sicilian sign of reconciliation, the head of your favourite racing horse in the enclosed package.
And you are always welcome to visit the real Sicily. Just give me a sign and I shall dispatch Ambroggiu and Luca to pick you up at the airport.
Click to expand...
I am reading your passionate defense of Sicily and its people with a certain emotion being directly concerned.Thank you wholeheartedly. Like a multitude of persons travelling to Sicily and/or living in it we are well aware on how matters stand and we give proof of this every day. Nevertheless I consider Praefectus Praetorius' account
just a fantasy that may well have occurred at the times of italian-american policeman Petrosino struggling with the Mano Nera (Black Hand)in 1902 at the
time Mafia elements from Sicily cast the grounds of their power in America. In our days this is not over : methods and appearances are more sophisticated and keep up to the new times. This is valid for Sicily as well as for any other Country in the world. I am of the advice to take Praefectus Praetorius' tale thoughtlessly and if ,we like,
to figure out the events as out of our context. Mario Puzo's book "The Godfather" and the series of Francis Ford Coppola movies based on the book, notwithstanding they saw Mafia with a rather lenient eye, Sicilian characters and deeds were crudely depicted giving a picture of Sicily far from encouraging.
Many people travelled to Sicily on the wave of the "Godfather's" success in due course: they had the opportunity to touch then the reality
as well as we are able today. Thanks for attention.
 
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