You know s**t when you smell s**t and in 1962, no one could stand the smell of Alex Grosetti. Alex was short for
Female Ninjas Protected Juventus From Leftist Terrorists: Part 2
The Years of lead is a 1980s movie based on a book, based on newspaper article, based on a quote, based on real life events. It is a story of how one football club survived the years of lead.
Alessandro and once you got to know him, you would by yourself shorten Grosetti to Gross. Gross as in disgusting, obscene.
Alex the Gross was an extremely disturbing individual. He was a liar, a thief, a cheat and a pervert. Friendless, disowned, excommunicated and rusticated, Alex stood alone in the world. After acting as a government snitch, Alex got his criminal record expunged. But before this, he had been a registered sex offender and a multiple convict.
Vittorio Colombo couldn’t read anymore. He wouldn’t. He didn’t think he should. He was only three pages into Alex Grosetti’s forty-five page file and already he could feel his brunch backing up on him. Looking at his sobbing daughter sitting on her bed, he had only one question for her; what the hell had attracted her to this gross man? Margherita explained.
Wednesday night was salsa night at Piccolo Cielo, Turin’s most exclusive night club. Margherita was there with bells on. They served mojitos, the weed man had that good, she won a dance-off against some stuck-up blond and Sophia Loren stepped on her foot on her way to the VIP. Sophia Loren stepped on her foot! (Shriek) It was the funnest night ever!
If they did not already know, the people of Turin were about to find out that Margherita Colombo was salsa certified.
When she turned, the men yearned. When she twisted, there was not a soul who resisted. When she spun, the other girls didn’t want none. When she shone, she had the crowd gone. She caught the eyes of every man in the room but only one man caught her eye.
He was a tall, dark guy with shaggy hair on his head and on his face. He was wearing straight-leg jeans. What a rebel. He wasn’t even dancing; he was sipping drinks at the bar.
But that was okay because Margherita didn’t want to dance with him, she wanted to dance for him. A decade or so earlier, she would have been unable to do this, but being a woman of the sixties, she had absolutely no problem with taking the initiative.
Margherita ended her seductive show and headed for the exit.
She walked through a dimly lit corridor, down a crowded staircase and past burly bouncers and by the time she got to the parking lot, she had a half smoked slim in her hand. It was cold out here but she had too much on her mind to notice. She was thinking. She was counting. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five... She heard footsteps behind her. She turned around and sure enough, she was face to face with the shaggy-haired man. She smiled. He smiled.
By Tolofari firstname.lastname@example.org