Welcome to the South Page #3

My mind was wandering,

I'm going to Naples.

I've been transferred there.

I understand,

I have a brother in Kosovo.

Be careful for your car and yourself.

In 300 meters, keep to the left

and take the

Salerno-Reggio Calabria.

Here we sit, bidin' time.

Excuse me?

Is it far to Castellabate?

I reckon some of 'em tumbled up.

This road riles you,

it's always chock-a-block.

Thank you.

What kind of talk's that?

Shitkicker!

You've arrived at your destination.

Arrived?

- Volpe, it's me, I'm here.

- Where are you?

- Can't see a blasted....

- What plaster?

Look for the street name.

Hold the line.

- HERE YOU DIE -

Mr. Director!

My Lord, is he dead?

What a somethin' to happen!

- Mr. Director!

- Volpe!

Volpe Mattia, that's me.

- I'll call an ambulance.

- No way!

Do like I say.

Was it bucketin' so

you couldn't turn the steerin'?

- Did I harm you a bit?

- My armpit?

- I'll get my things.

- Let's go.

Can I leave the car here?

They won't steal it?

Welcome to your house.

There's no furniture.

Who stole it?

I'll report you, throw you in jail!

- The other director took it.

- He's a thief.

- Meantime I'll report him.

- He's gone.

- A fugitive?

- No, he checked out.

He popped off.

- He croaked.

- I don't understand.

- Dead.

- Great start!

- Take me to a hotel.

- I didn't get that.

There must be a hotel around.

This time of year, at this hour?

You razzin' me?

Okay.

Is there much more to walk?

Want me to carry it?

Come in.

It's kind of you to host me.

Please, this way.

Mr. Director...

Take your shoes off.

My mother's fanatical about dirt.

Watch your step.

Go ahead in.

I'll camp out on the couch,

I can't stay here.

I'll move the box.

I'll get you settled,

change the sheets too.

You shouldn't...

It's moth balls,

Mom puts them everywhere.

There are rats? Tiny mice maybe.

- Every rat's this big.

- Living here?

No, they're renting next door,

a one-room place.

Goodnight.

Thank you.

- Would you like coffee?

- Not at this hour.

Never in the evenings,

maybe herbal tea.

Never mind, it's okay.

A junkie.

Explosives!

Holy mother, he's in the Camorra!

Mr. Colombo!

He's dead.

What's this stink?

Mr. Director?

What do you want?

- What do you want yourself.

- Meaning?

For breakfast.

- What time is it?

- 8:
15.

- Tea with milk.

- How about coffee?

Mom makes great coffee.

No, always tea with cold milk

on the side, some toast

and a plain yogurt, thank you.

This is yours.

- I'd put it there.

- That's the chimney vent.

I didn't want to dirty anything.

There was a draft.

Mom.

- He wants tea.

- Got a bellyache?

I don't know, it puzzled me a bit,

threw me off.

I'll take care of him.

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