Read Online As God Commands by Niccolò Ammaniti - Free Book Online

seat was just like Ramona, the
heroine of Ramona's Big Lips, a pornographic video which Quattro
Formaggi had found in a trash can.

    Ramona lived in America and hitch-hiked. She got picked up by
lots of men who fucked her in their cars or in the desert or in motels,
and she was always kind and would screw as many as three or four
men at the same time. Then she met a black motorcyclist who fucked
her and beat her up, but Ramona was saved by the sheriff, who took
her to jail, and there too all the prisoners fucked her. On her release
she met Bob the lumberjack, who had a family that lived in the
woods, and there she was given a very warm welcome: they gave
her turkey for dinner and then, with his wife and son, they fucked
in the kitchen and then on a boat in the middle of a lake, and they
all lived happily ever after. Or at least Quattro Formaggi thought
they did, because after the orgy on the boat the film ended.
    Quattro Formaggi had seen that film so many times he knew all
the dialogue by heart. And there was one part that was his particular favorite: where Ramona went into the woods with Bob the lumberjack and she smiled and took his cock in her hand and started
stroking it ...
    That little blonde on the scooter was so much like Ramona that
perhaps it was actually her. Even though Ramona was American
and had far bigger tits.
    He would see her riding around the village with her friend. And
often he would end up following her. He was very good at spying
on her without being noticed. He would watch her and then he
would have dirty thoughts.
    Why did his brain torment him like this?
    He liked Liliana. The accounts clerk at Euroedil. She was a woman,
not a young girl. Alone, like him. And she was kind. She would smile
at him, ask him how he was doing. He only had to find the courage
to ask her out to dinner, and he could do that...
    But a deep, hollow voice that lived inside him whispered that
Liliana wasn't like Ramona.
    (Did you see her with that boy with the motorbike?)
    It was evening. Quattro Formaggi had been in the public gardens and had just found a one-armed King Kong doll for his
nativity scene when he had seen the little blonde arrive with a boy
on a motorbike. Hiding behind a tree he had watched them making
out and then the boy had pulled it out and she had put her hand
around it.

    Up and down. Up and down.
    That scene had lodged in his brain like a piece of shrapnel. At
night he would wake up and see it. The little hand holding that stiff
thing. And Quattro Formaggi, lying on his bed, couldn't help closing
his eyes, pulling down his underpants and ...
    (Up and down. Up and down. Up and down ... )
    ... he was Bob the lumberjack, and the little blonde and Ramona
were holding his cock.
21
    The Mahatma Gandhi Junior High School stood on an artificial hill
about one hundred feet high which dominated the plain. It was a
box-like building with large windows, which on the rare sunny days
would fill with light. A trim lawn covered the slopes, and a narrow
road led up to a parking lot for the use of the disabled and the
teaching staff. Behind the school was a sports complex with an
Olympic-size swimming pool and a gym.
    The school had been built on the outskirts of Murelle in the early
Eighties as a collection point for all the pupils from the dozens of
villages in the surrounding area. It had a population of seven hundred and fifty children divided into eight sections.
    Cristiano Zena was sitting at the back of the class. From his desk
he stared out at the rain-lashed volleyball court, the lawn strewn
with rotting leaves and behind them, half-hidden in the mist, the
concrete bastions of the shopping mall "I Quattro Camini".
    He had managed to get in halfway through the first lesson. The
first excuse that had come to his mind was that a frozen water pipe
had burst at home and that since his father had gone out to work
he'd had to wait for the plumber. The Italian teacher had