Читать книгу The Ball - Erik Pethersen - Страница 12
1.2 LIFE - THREE
Оглавление«Good morning, sirs. Now, we are here to register Newco Dating Ltd» the notary starts.
«Here we are» they reply almost at the same time.
«Did you check if there are other websites registered with similar names at the Board of Trade, Brando?»
«The gentlemen here actually wanted to name their company Newco Ltd. I took the liberty to point out that this name was not so original and that it would be necessary and useful to attach another word to it. So then Newco Dating came out, it sounds a bit more original.»
«Excellent, and Newco Dates it is then» the notary adds, and then he says: «Each of you will own a share amounting to 50% of the share capital. Are you both residing in Brescia, right?»
One of the two men says: «Yes, we have been living here for twenty years now».
«And the company will be based in the municipality of Bre...» the notary says this and he stops suddenly. «In the municipality of Codogno» he continues saying, with a slightly surprised tone, looking at me. «Which is in the province of Cremo...»
I look at him and I shake my head.
«Which, surely, is in the province of Piace...» he goes on saying, lowering his voice, while I shake my head again.
«Lodi» one of the two partners says. The notary looks at him.
«Of course: Lodi. It is an important town, isn’t it? It is a busy city, right?» he asks while staring at the guy in front of him.
«That’s right, it is a busy town» says one of the partners. «We decided to have it as our headquarters because our computer technician and the server are going to be based in Codogno.»
«I see» the notary says. «Are you aware that if you ever decide to shift the headquarters outside the Municipality, you are going to need another notarial deed, aren’t you? Why not choosing Brescia as the headquarters, considering that both of you are residing in here?»
«Yes, yes, your colleague told us» says the plump partner with Magnum P.I. style moustache «It’s better this way for us for... how can I put it... confidential reasons.»
«I see, I see» the notary cuts him short. «And Codogno it is» he says looking at the desk. He browses through the Statute then and he briefly points out some aspects to the partners, who do not seem to pay too much attention.
«25% of the share capital amounting to €10,000 has to be paid over by the partners to the administrative body. So, we are talking about € 1,250 each» the notary says.
«Yes» Magnum P.I states, «here, all in €50 banknotes.»
«Great» Alessandro says. «You are both administrators, so you need to pay € 2,500 into each other’s hands. As for levies, taxes and registration fees, please finalize it at the front office desk.»
«Go to the entrance door where you can see something artificially fair» I say.
«Pardon?» the plump version of Tom Sellek says, looking confused.
«I meant that to make the payment you can go over to the girl sitting at the desk at the entrance.»
«Right, okay, thank you. Goodbye» he answers a bit puzzled.
The two of them walk off the room and down along the corridor.
The notary turns to me, he looks at me and says: «Did you know Codogno, did you?»
«No, never heard of it, I’ve got a better idea looking at Google Maps. Excuse me for not telling you in advance: I forgot. However, I thought I was ignorant not to know it, considering how casually the two of them were telling me about it.»
«Don’t worry, Brando. I will check later on where this joyous town is located». «I’m off: my wife is waiting for me for lunch at the Bistrot. Yourself? Will you have your usual sad-looking bowl of tofu with cereals?» he says sarcastically.
«Yes, something like that. See you later.»
⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎
I am supposed to be gloomy and sombre more than usual, in his opinion, I ponder as I sit back at my desk. I don’t think so. I may be pensive, probably it is the fault of the blue glow. Sure: now I am blaming somebody I don’t even know.
Sbandofin Facebook: search. No, they are not on Facebook. Sbandofin Linkedin: search. Nothing.
Sbandofin, search for pictures: just our building taken from below, which is the only picture on their website. Nothing much: there doesn’t seem to be much on the internet apart from their website.
My smartphone vibrates and lights up: Mutter. I scroll down with my finger on the display and I answer.
«Hi Bra, how are you?»
«Hi mum, wonderfully. Yourselves there, is everything okay? What are you doing today?»
«All is well here. Nothing major: I am making the pizza dough for tonight’s celebrations, your father has gone to the canal. He went out at 7:30 this morning and I haven’t seen him since.»
«You mean, nothing major for your standards but, just out of curiosity, what celebrations are on tonight?»
«Here in Alberbhüttel it’s the Patron Saint’s Day. Last year we went there and found out that everyone cooks something and brings it to the square to share with the fellow villagers. We didn’t know and went down bare-handed. Between one tankard and another, at the end of the evening, they got us to promise to make pizza for everybody for the following year.»
«That explains it all» I add. «I didn’t know anything about this lovely German celebration; it reminds me of San Faustino’s Day, with the difference that here we don’t share homemade food and knock it down less beer»
«Yes, Brando, it is similar to San Faustino’s celebration. Here on the Kiel canal each town has its own annual festival and everyone puts in a lot of energy preparing their own festival. They are spread out through the months and the inhabitants of the neighbouring towns, come to other people’s celebrations, so the town square is overflooded with people coming from three or four towns. Beer flows in large quantities for sure.»
«Some sort of an alcoholic exchange» I interrupt.
«Just think that our neighbours, those who live in the other town at ten km from here, Beringfeld, have designed some sort of a beer distribution system to go with the pizza. Something done properly: they dug five metres deep and they run the pipes under the cobblestone. Every three metres they placed some kind of a yellow hydrant, which is a real tap as an actual fact.»
«These Teutonic traditions don’t seem bad at all: I didn’t know that. Anyway, after one year, do these people still remember this, which was furthermore agreed upon after gulping down a few litres of beer?»
«I told you: they care about that a lot. I have been asked more or less the same question for the last year or so by everybody I was bumping into. “Are you making pizza with pepperoni and frankfurters, right?“»
«I see. So, the hype is virtually sky-high. Anyway, how many pizzas do you have to make? Isn’t dad helping you?»
«Of course, he is!» she said. «Well, we are going to make some. We talked about that last night, to recap all the ingredients: we decided to make thirty-six.»
«It sounds like a fair amount, bearing in mind that everybody else will bring something, I would say that thirty-six pizzas are enough» I reply. «It is hard work, though.»
«I meant thirty-six metres, Brando.»
«Woh» I reply a bit confused. «Is pizza measured by the metre in northern Germany?»
«Yes, it seems to be. Even if you go to a pizzeria, the waiters consider it as a unit of measurement: if you ask for two capricciosa pizzas, they will bring you two metres of it, you don’t need to say anything else. So last night dad organized some bonfires in the garden. He marked six areas measuring 1m high and 7m length and put some big rocks he got at the canal all along their perimeters. At each corner, he drove a steel pole with a hole on top into the ground; then he got Birger to make some trays which are 6m long and 60cm wide. The trays have two steel bars at the far end which are slotted in the poles.»
«Yes, mum, I am starting to get a better picture of the situation and I do realize that nothing much is happening there, today too. Sorry but how long are the poles? What are you going to put then on the six areas?» I ask staring at the wall beyond the screen. Then all of a sudden I felt enlightened. «Yes, of course! Six areas measuring six metres each equal to thirty-six metres of pizza: got it!»
«Yes Brando, it is like military operations: everything is organized down to a tee. The poles are fifty centimetre high and the ovens will be overflowing with charcoal.»
«Charcoal pizza. I see...» I can’t conceal my bewilderment. «You are going to need loads.»
«Not too much, actually: we went to get it yesterday. We got one hundred ten-kilo bags.»
«I guess all the ingredients have already been bought...»
«Yesterday we bought flour, yeast and buffalo mozzarella cheese. Dad and Birger are going to buy Pepperoni, frankfurters and chili peppers on their way back.»
«Right. Who is this guy, Birger?»
«He is our new neighbour, didn’t I tell you about him? He bought the farmhouse just before ours: the one that had been up for sale for quite some time, at the entrance to the dirt road which leads to grandad’s farmhouse.»
«I don’t recall you telling me» I answer deep in my thoughts. «Anyway, this Birger guy too has decided to withdraw from the world and isolate himself in that piece of German country land?»
«We are not that isolated, Bra. Birger is working as a blacksmith and he does some lovely creations, like the trays for pizzas. I even brought him the iron maiden that I found in the lodge: he said he will get something beautiful out of it. Your father and I did not isolate ourselves from the world: we just need to get grandad’s house all set so that we can sell it.»
«Sure, I know very well that you are not completely isolated, but the only thing is that grandad is dead two and a half years now. I am starting to think that you want to live there.»
«That’s right. Bra, the house is hard to manage» my mum says softly.
«Sorry… did you say the iron maiden?» I reply puzzled, thinking back about my mum’s words.
«That’s right, grandad Bastian had loads of weird things down in the shed, did I not tell you?»
«Yes, you did mention something about that but I did not realize that he had torture devices.
«Who knows what went on in here... Uh, your daddy and Birger are 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.
I stare at the hills in the distance and I think about my brother, who is missing, according to the latest news, in some weird African State, with his association of volunteers. Considering that he is convinced that 4G is not among the most spread-out illness in the places he goes to and despite I unsuccessfully tried on many occasions to get him over the phone or on VoIP, I always notice his funny habit to blame me for his faults, whether unintentional or malicious. I hit the little green button and I write: “How are you doing? Are you in a civilized place? Have you been infected by 4G yet? I would be grateful if you could not spread fake information about my availability to our parent! Bye“