canal scene #5
(not exactly a canal scene, but I didn't feel like starting a new thread.)
I don't know how we ended up there. It was Wednesday, our usual bar night, and we went to Cafe Blue, as usual, for happy hour. We'd go, buy drinks at half price and line them up on the table so we wouldn't have to pay full price for our fun.
Anyway. Cafe Blue. Drank a few, but the place was dead. Decided we needed adventure. Adventure! So we took a walk down by the Rialto and ended up in this funky little bar/restaurant called Bacaro Jazz. My stomach felt like it was on fire, so I ordered a glass of milk (but not without having to argue with the waiter about how no, i really didn't feel like having a beer and just bring me my milk, damn it.)
A little while later, these two guys came in. They sat at the table next to me and my friends, and we started talking. One was the bar owner's son, the other was his cousin from Marseilles. French guy hated us, but bar owner's son was pretty cool. He taught us how to swear in Italian, plus he added in all sorts of Venetian slang. ("We Venetians are the worst," he said. "We swear more than anybody, except maybe the ones from Naples.")
"So how you swear in English?"
I thought for a minute. Looked at my friends. Crazy bunch of drunkards weren't paying any attention.
"I already know how you say shit and damn."
"All right. Well." I thought. Looked down at the table. "When something's really bad, it fucking sucks, ok?"
"Ok. Fucking sucks. Bene."
"Right. Like, 'This fucking sucks, man.' Got it?"
We were silent. Then he spoke. "These fucking sucks!"
He was so enthusiastic about it.
"These fucking SUCKS!"
"No, no. It's either, 'this fucking sucks,' or 'these fucking suck,' okay?" I stared at him. I could see the wheels in his alcohol-soaked mind turning slowly.
"Bene. This fucking sucks."
"Yeah, you got it."
"Those fucking sucks!"
He stared at me. "These fucking sucks?"
"No. You know? Nevermind. You're good."
Yeah, buddy. Fucking great.