by Lorenzo Piccoli
I regard myself as a very modest person and as an excellent chef. Unfortunately, though, my cooking skills occasionally abandon me for reasons that are yet unknown. The consequences can be disastrous, especially for the people who happen to be around at the time. This happened only once last year: that was when I invited Irene and Fabio for dinner. A bit of context here: unlike Fabio, who at the time was already a regular guest of the house, Irene had never been at my place before; and, unlike Fabio (with my greatest respect for him), Irene has this habit of behaving like a very polite person when she is with people she does not really know well. So at the end of the dinner, when I accidentally dropped on the table some brownies I thought I might had overcooked but I was hopeful they could still be good, upon trying one and still realizing the taste was awful Irene must have felt she could not really spit it out and she kept chewing the definitely overcooked brownie for a good minute or two. That went on without anybody really realizing until Fabio also picked one (“Ah, famme provà ‘sta delizia“), spitted it out right away and ran to the toilet screaming horrible slanders to the cook. Only then Irene felt authorized to gently spit her cookie too and declare it could, in fact, have been better.
Anyway! This episode remained buried in my memory until two days ago, when I watched an entertaining movie for kids (not that I do that often, but believe it or not I was taking care of a kid and watching Despicable Me seemed the most logical thing to do after the kid stormed my room, my house, and an entire park). The following sequence from the movie immediately stroke a cord.
I now like to imagine myself as Dr. Nefario and Fabio and Irene as two yellow Minions. I wonder if they would happily share this image too.