The phone at home starts ringing at 6:55. They call me directly into headquarters. I’m afraid they know something. I undress and snort a line of coke before going to the toilet at around 7:13. Sara is out with the dog. I take the first shower at 7:22 and snort a second line of coke. I drink coffee and light a Gauloise at 7:35, take a second shower and I’m undecided whether to snort a third line or not, then I think again, dress and down a Valium with a sip of rum. In the street I turn on the siren because there’s a little traffic. Before going into headquarters I go by the vendor in the square of the train station. I pick two tapes. He asks me for twenty euros, I give him fifteen. He says at least eighteen buddy, I give him two more. He smiles. He says they are two great films, in one there is a nigger that gives a little girl a blowjob. I say how is it possible to give a little girl a blowjob. He says watch it and you’ll see. I wave and get back into the car. The cell rings and it is De Renziis’ secretary that says the appointment has been moved to 18:00 tonight. I think fuck off bitch but I don’t say it. I say ok and hang up. I arrive at headquarters with the patrol car at 9:05, five minutes late. I leave the keys with the officer at the entrance who apostrophizes me that the cars go in the garage. I shove my badge in his face and give him a little slap on the cheek, not hard, but humiliating, at least so five of his colleagues see it, including a vice-inspector that I did last year (and she’s not aged a bit) cuffing her to the toilet drainpipe and cumming on her hair when I was a guard at the SME trial. Big brother is behind the desk with his fucking tie and blue suit that give him the air of a tight-ass who hasn’t shit in three weeks. I smile at him and pretend to pay attention. I feel oppressed, I’m afraid he knows about the Valium. When he starts talking I calm down and remember that I forgot about last week’s operation: I saved a colleague in a firefight in a mafia boss’s villa in the east district. Really, I would have shot that son of a bitch anyway. He wanted to fuck me over about the coke. Big brother compliments me on the save and says he wants to make me coordinator for the Carelli homicide investigation. I give him the ok but the thing really breaks my balls because I wanted to go to Capri with Sara this weekend. He asks me how Gargiulo is behaving. I say well but I don’t remember who Gargiulo is. Big brother says his assistant will contact me as soon as the judge gives the green light. I thank him and say goodbye, I get the car and go to the bar at the port to drink a spiked coffee. A hundred meters before the bar the cell rings. Hello I say. Hi, it’s me says Sebastiano. What do you want I say. It’s for the interview, you should read a couple of things he says. And why I say. It’s important he says. Fuck off I say. I hang up. In the bar bathroom I meet a blonde, not bad, who really seems like a junky. She’s with a friend who has a shaved head and a tattoo on the nape of her neck. Her friend leaves the bathroom but the blonde lingers. I take my dick out before going into the men’s room and she looks at me maliciously, the whore. I go in and leave the door open. The. Charm. Of. The. Uniform. The whore comes in while I’m pissing and starts kissing me. Then she goes down toward the pot and I piss in her face. Then she starts sucking me while I continue to piss but she doesn’t manage to swallow it and gets it everywhere. I tell her not on the pants, christ. I finish pissing in the bowl and she starts blowing me again. I cum right away, I cum in her face and in her eyes. The. Charm. Of. The. Uniform. I dry myself with toilet paper and take out the stuff, I prepare two lines and let her snort. She thinks it’s coke and snorts it right up. She makes a funny face but then is happy when she realizes it’s not coke. It’s. Not. Coke. I let her try it to see if it was good, if it didn’t kill her: judging by the girl’s face it seems good. I take the needle out from my pocket, prepare it, shoot up and collapse in the stall with her. I come to after ten minutes, but the whore isn’t there. Neither is my hat. Neither is my pistol.
[ Angello Petrella, Cane rabbioso, 2006 ]