The Italian

I knocked on the screen door of the little house in Fallbrook and my knock was answered by a trembling emotional male voice with a strong Roman accent.

"Come een, John, the door ees open. I am forced to stay in thees seeck bed because my back ees keeling me. And I am here with no one to talk to. My beautiful wife eesa been dead for more than a year. She left me here to suffer alone and I weesh I wasa dead. My back ees keeling me and I am meeserable and the worst thing ees, I'm eempotent! The lady from next door comes over to help me get something to eat but she won't marry me. She already has a husband. Oh, I hope you can help me. I have had a reech fulla life. I weel tella you about it.

"My father owned a ranch with hundreds of acres of grassy rolling pastures not far from Rome. We were what you might say a privileged family. We had servants to do the work but my father allowed me as a boy to help an old shepherd tend our flocks of sheep during the summers. The old shepherd gave me many hours of advice as we lounged under the trees on lazy summer days. He taught me about how to live and he was a wise man. I was very happy and healthy. My father had a very close friend who often came to spend week-ends with us. He was friendly and nice to me but he was a politician and a very busy man when he returned to Rome.

“When I was a young man my father sent me to Rome where I served in the government as an aid learning to be a diplomat. I was very handsome and not sick and suffering like I am today. I was quite popular with some of the ladies. One night I met a daughter of a royal family visiting Rome from her nearby country. We fell in love instantly, and I got her pregnant! It was a terrible scandal. It was lucky for me that when I was called up to stand before the authority, the man was none other than the friend of my father. As I stood at rigid attention he rose from his desk, walked and stood one pace in front of me. When I admitted my sin he slapped my face smartly. He told me I had disgraced Italy and for punishment, I would have to leave the country. He posted me as a foreign diplomat's aid in China. It was the beginning of a long and profitable career for me. I became an expert dealer in valuable paintings. I have kept only one of the paintings and it is worth more than my house. But I am a wealthy man. Perhaps you know some good young girl who would like to marry a wealthy man like me. When I die she would have everything. I would be good to her. But I could not make love to her because my back won't stop hurting and the worst thing is, I'm eempotent.!"

The old man continued to complain about his back. Then he mentioned the politician who slapped him so many years before. It was his father's friend who came to visit at the sheep ranch. Benito Mussolini was his name.