By Lily Prior
struggling mortician in working-class Rome, Freda simply married her repulsive ventriloquist husband, Alberto, since it was once prophesied that she'd accomplish that. Now that he is vanished mysteriously with his both abhorrent dummy (who Freda suspects is admittedly a midget), she'd like them either to stick lacking -- even though she's devastated via the simultaneous disappearance of her soul mate, Pierino, her cherished conversing parrot. whereas the police examine this sequence of attainable crimes, Freda will proceed embalming by means of day, unleashing her caged passions at evening in a seedy cabaret (until a sad fireplace leaves the owner with a tuba caught on his head), attempting to make do with a speaking hamster in lieu of pricey Pierino . . . and recalling the vagaries of lifestyles that led her to this unlucky juncture.
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Additional info for Cabaret: A Roman Riddle
Fiamma drove 30 then faster and faster. Houses, trees, oncoming trafﬁc, pedestrians, dogs, and chickens, began to ﬂash past and blur together. The wind whipped wildly by. Mamma held on to her hat. At the bottom of the hill, still some way ahead of us, the ﬁgure of a little old man ran out onto the highway. When he became aware of the mighty Cutlass bearing down on him at an impossible speed, he froze to the spot, and began to scream. The bubble Fiamma had blown into a big balloon burst, covering her face with exploded gum and obscuring her eyes.
It was American, an Oldsmobile Cutlass convertible, huge and red. He had won it in a contest, and his smiling picture had appeared in the newspapers. In a reckless moment he had agreed to let Fiamma borrow it when she passed her driving test, and now that she had, he could only watch fearfully as she surged down the slope of his garage, and hurtled along the street. 28 then Now Mamma was ﬁnally ready. She was so glamorous. Something I sadly didn’t inherit. In fact, I believe I was born a frumpy dresser.
Trailing the washing she had ripped from a clothesline in passing, she was eventually brought to a halt by an enormous palm tree, into which she crashed, and into the rough hairy trunk of which her ﬁne white front teeth sank. The old man stopped screaming then. He had survived. But he lay down in the road in front of the car and died anyway, needlessly. His daughter collapsed and began frothing at the mouth. The car engine also gave up and died. Then there 32 then was a small but perfectly formed explosion, and licks of ﬂame began to curl up and melt the paintwork.