Sunday afternoon. Sassaresi the sea. We know what you're thinking, but no. Nothing Platamona. Question of Porto Ferro, a place that can still provide food for thought about adeguatissimi. When you arrive, when it melts in the cockpit of your compact car that now has half the Mugoni beach mats, do you think that pierces them brasgeri a pair of bales: f 
a devastating heat. And not only you feel it, but dozens of friendly motorists who flooded the steep, dusty trail, covering it with their means of locomotion, and thus making life a real brothel. What's more peep out in the middle of the carrera some cows (yes) lost and frightened-looking, with their bells tinkling in the neck and disturbing horns still in place. The poor things, in theory, would cross the street, but the herd of cars cruelly positioned on the other side of the road would prevent that. There is also a calf, held hostage by flies the size of half a square meter. However, you can wait patiently and to perform the additional parking without a hitch. Arrivals then on the beach, the sand sheet a lot. You install the first open space, a safe distance by a squad of boys behind you. The look of the sextet is a hymn to human crunchy cliché: tatuaggini discrete, glitter on the giant lobe, predictable Your search for vocabulary, not just British humor. They come out mostly through grunts - the girls squeak, peppering it all with a "fuck " every three seconds, but at least they are silent most of the time. You, at first, and you make us laugh at one of the bathrooms as you touch before you leave and realize that there is something wrong. The guys do not know how, are practically attached to your ass, although he made sure, before, when you placed the umbrella. Eh oh well. Willy-nilly you lie in the sun and I dozed off. Do you find yourself later with the guys in her lap, because they are meanwhile emerged from a sort of gazebo that seems to be built on the envelopes of sisa and decided to place towels and spiaggine close of your slippers. 
So you are able to hear what you say, the three couples and their two dogs (one, a white mutt, to emit a shrill, type nocturnal bird of prey seal ). Guess from the sparkling conversations that are there from steers ( slugs but fuck it have left? ") and probably the preparations are in the kitchen were likely to seek abundance (" No, you fuck, I eat them at home that the snails were fuck"). Last but not least, there is one - the alpha male - which does nothing but repeat " And you will place a lu ... Lady Help , all seasoned with unequivocal r dull. The frequency of " you will place lu" etc. increases dramatically during the afternoon. First, every minute. Then every twenty seconds. Finally, do not say anything more than that. The dogs are trying to enter the debate, perhaps because they are hungry, or perhaps because they feel they have more to say of their masters. Meanwhile, the couple - including a "lu you will place a Lady Help and the other, trying to autoanalyzer. Everything was born from the observation of other couples on the beach, sottilineando how lucky ones "who are cruising there cock. Lucky them ...", because - he says one to another - "oh cock before you two were always attached fuck. " The girls, too refined, commented sarcastically " you to do the cock! Matess lu me who you were me! ", and "you will place lu" stipulates that "after six years fuck all m'è passadda ganta fuck passion, I no longer have to be always kissing gana. " Words like boulders. For a while 'there is a suspicious silence, broken only by dogs, then switch to football. Yet the focus is more to the salary of the players ("How long have but Kaka give fuck? 'Ess, a Well Dina! Ce I'd fuck them "), rather than to their actual performance on the field. Indeed, the analysis turns on questions such as 
" Moratti already could give me some 'Dina fuck, what the fuck does it cost? bastard fuck", which lead to obvious conclusions ("Dina bé a dick, so you do not do more shit ). The head will burst, because not only are eight inches from you, but screaming like pigs having their throats cut. When two of them go to play rackets on the shoreline, all set in their poses to Federer in the suburbs, at least you feel relieved, because at least you will get up the balls and you do not have to put up more " you will place a Lady Help lu", though fill sand you and all your stuff there next. Li noted, at dusk, a few feet of you. One of two dogs is in the midst, jumping from side to side in the illusion of being able to win the ball. And think back to the cows, perhaps because of issues anew next to your car. Then you go away permanently, still observing the dog, then the guys, then again the dog. And I hope the dog take it, the damn ball. You rebel. That takes the gazebo, towels and maybe even the slugs. He kept the car keys. So let them, possibly naked, to graze aimlessly along the beach. Adding, as icing on the cake, small bells to tie around the neck.
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