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The Ball. Erik PethersenЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Ball - Erik Pethersen


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back: they have just driven into the driveway. The pickup truck is loaded with ingredients: I must go and help them» she said a bit agitated.

      «Right, I’ll leave you to do your nothing much» I reply quickly. «Sorry for one sec mum, one last question.»

      «Tell me quickly Bra, I have to go!»

      «How do you take the thirty-six metres of pizza to the town?»

      «About fifty people come by tonight at 7.00 and we all walk to the town with the trays on our heads and torches in our hands in a real torchlight procession.»

      «Sure, it will get cold! It must be four kilometres to the square and the trays must be hot.»

      «Come on, Bra I have to go, all these silly questions: we bought a hundred pairs of gloves to hold the pizzas. Also, each table in the square has a power outlet for the burner: this way anyone can heat up the dishes they brought from home.»

      «I am really silly, you are right. Enjoy the evening and say hi to dad for me.»

      «Yes, sure, I’ll tell him that you were asking for him. I’m off. Bye» my mum mumbled. «Brando, I nearly forgot: I spoke to Marlon and he told me to tell you to contact him because he can never get you.»

      «Yes, sure, I’ll do that. See you, mum.»

      «See you, Bra, love you.»

      Tofu, tofu, tofu; Tofu and seitan; and chicken; and rice: a spoonful and I start eating, while I am thinking about fifty people walking in the middle of the countryside with carrying pizzas on their heads, holding a torch in their hands; actually, thirty-six metres of pizzas on their heads and those who are not holding a torch, are holding a one-litre tankard of beer in their hands. I am thinking about how energetic my two parents are and I state that my level of energy, considering that I am a good bit younger than them, has nothing to do with their levels. Lately my level of energy seems nearly asleep, even though it has reached a level of respectable normality not too long ago.

      Taking part in this kind of German festival, could be a healthy and liberating experience which would make my parents happy that I could take up their invitation to go there at least for a weekend and stay in the extension in their property in Germany. Huge property that my mum inherited from my grandad Bastian virtually three years ago. Last summer I was there for a few days but after that, I could not accept their regular invitation because I always had something urgent to take care of.

      I feel a little confused thinking about the things that I need to take care of and I am mulling over the mental and physical benefits that I could get from being off work for a week. I would also have the chance to carry out a further investigation about all the weird things that my parents keep on telling me, like metre-long pizzas and torture devices. Surely Bastian must have been weird: he gave life to my mother, with the joint participation of my grandma, and then he went back to Germany, God knows why, probably to torture people in the basement.

      I start to imagine 1.300 kilometres of German motorway, free from annoying speed limits for long stretches of the road. With a few stops, I would get there approximately slightly over twelve hours. One day’s journey and five or six days off staying in the extension, located on that huge far-away piece of German land; travelling by car with a blue glow sitting beside me, able to shake me off from that deadness that Alessandro feels it is coming from me. Unattainable idea, I state right away, wiping out the motorway and the German countryside and bring my organs of vision back on the screen in front of me: it is quite possible that the blue glow is already going out steadily with somebody else from the opposite sex and may also have a few children.

      I push away the bowl with the airtight lid with my lunch in it, moving it towards the screen, I stand up and I go to the windows, holding my smartphone in my hands and looking at the landscape, which is now too bright.

      1.2 LIFE - FOUR

      «Excuse me Brando, are you still on your lunch break?» I hear Domenica say behind me.

      «I’d say that I am enjoying the last minutes of my break. Have you trouble with the real estate deeds?»

      «Well, not exactly trouble. Yesterday I mentioned to you about the deed of sale that is on this afternoon, you know those rental office units that keep going around.»

      «Sure, the usual.»

      «Correct, that one. I thought that the land registry extracts and maps were still valid from the last deed. I realized that fifteen months have gone by so it would be better to do them all over again.»

      «Fifteen months under the ownership of the same individual? I reckon it is some sort of record. Shall we celebrate?» I ask playfully.

      «Yes, I think it is possession primacy» Domenica replies while placing a coffee pod in the coffee machine, after putting a cup under the nozzle.

      «So do you need land registry extracts of the whole property?»

      «That’s right, we ought to check that the situation is the same as it was in the last deed. I am quite sure that nothing has changed, however it is better to check.»

      «Alright, I’ll get an extract of the whole thing then. I strongly fear something: what is the name of the new company that owns it?» I ask.

      Domenica grabs the coffee cup, she looks at me sorrowfully while sipping her coffee and she confirms my doubts: «The rental office units goes back to Ciapper Ltd».

      «Right, I would have never said that! These businessmen are so enlightened that you can predict their moves months in advance» I say harshly. «Anyway, just give me five minutes and I’ll start my surveying: everything will be ready by 3 o’clock.»

      «Thank you, Brando, the deed is on at 4:00, so it is great.»

      I go off with my cup and get back to my desk. I just listen to the news for a couple of minutes, before getting the extracts done: spread exceeds share 200; the stock exchange is down by 2.2%. The usual, I say, opening another website on Chrome.

      Alberbhüttel patronal festival, search. Images of a square with many tables and several people come up. The last photo shows a man with a long grey moustache and red cheeks, busy lifting a large tankard of beer, almost empty.

      She surely has a name, I am talking to myself while opening another page. I look for Sbandofin on Linkedin. Melissa. No. No. It’s not her. What kind of name is Melissa? Nice though. Elisabetta. Not even that one. The blue glow does not have such dreadful name. I decide to put a stop to my silly search and go back to work.

      I open the Ciapper ltd folder, I click on Banano commercial rental estate subfolder and I read the titles of five deeds: the first document goes back to 2012 and the last one goes back to February 7th, 2017. Right, I say: the current one. I open the folder for the first document and I scroll down the documents related to the land registration extracts and the cadastral maps.

      It is called Banano because of its shape, at least that’s what the Ciapper brothers claim. On the property website, in block letters, a call-to-action: luxurious offices in the heart of the city: book your viewing. Down on the right- hand corner, I notice a writing in small letters which I don’t recall having seen before: for rent and for sale. Considering that renting had always been considered by the brothers as the only way to make some money out of the property, I take it that this change of strategy is due to the difficulty in selling the properties.

      The


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