Joe
Junior
- Aug 4, 2018
- 563
Have you ever sat and wondered, maybe after you hear about a terrible car accident that takes the life of a young mother and her child, or a building collapse that kills over a dozen innocent lives, just how lucky you are to be alive? How, either through some statistical anomaly or some kind of divine intervention, so many factors have gone right for you to continue to exist? A few seconds too late, a few seconds too early, a mistimed yawn of the bus driver, and splat. Sometimes, these kinds of thing happen, as we've seen, far too often. We're not that special as to have some invisible and invincible aura around us. Sometimes, through events not in our control, our beautiful and infinitely complex lives can be extinguished like a light. Though, through the dedication of hundreds of men and women, sometimes, we have a chance. A chance to be protected from the things that we wouldn't even know to protect ourselves from.
Though, there is a chance that will not be our future.
You see, sometimes the World gets just a little bit of help. Sometimes, something steps in the way of disaster. For us, and hopefully, for our future, it will be a young Italian Royal Carabinieri police officer Appuntato Mario Giovanazzi. Through some stroke of dumb luck, Mr. Giovanazzi will give us time and an opportunity. Whether the world chooses to seize the opportunity that has been placed at their feet, it must at least be considered and under no circumstances can it not be wasted. We do not know if what we will do will work. But we must try. We must do something. For to save one life, to allow that one passenger to go home ignorant of the tragedy that may have struck them would be worth it.
Not often do we get a chance to see the swerving car that will end our lives in a flash, and get the chance to step out of it's way. Mario Giovanazzi, unknowingly, will give 2,997 lives that chance. We ought to take it.
///
He had resolutely decided that the coffee was much too cold. He enjoyed his coffee the Alpini way. Just a hint of salt and sipped at a near boil. It was the only way to ward off the cold... even though he was hardly in the cold! In the Via Condotti, where the rich and the beautiful congregated to spend his entire annual salary on a handbag, he could hardly say that he was living in the conditions that he had spent a considerable amount of his youth in.
Mario threw in the towel, walking over and tossing the half-full cup of coffee into the garbage bin.
"No good, eh, Officer?" A passing woman teased, her giggling friends following.
"I merely was seeking an excuse to have another look at you, signora." Mario shot back, adjusting his cap.
The women roared in laughter, walking past. The woman, a delightful looking redhead, looked over her shoulder at him and blew him a kiss. Mario shot her a wink.
Even if the coffee wasn't as good, the atmosphere certainly was.
For the last two months of his life, he had been assigned to the Via Condotti as a patrol officer. For eight hours every day, he waltzed up the Via Condotti and waltzed down, admiring the people, the weather, the hilariously bad taxi drivers, and the outrageously high prices. Like all good Carabinieri, it was their duty to not be officers, but to be community officers. He was known by every shopkeeper up and down the Via. The young children living in the apartment buildings came to him for candy, the old women whacked him with their handbags for not arriving in time to walk them across the street.
He knew everyone.
Except him... the young man ferrying long boxes into the entrance of one of the apartment buildings from his van, a Flower Store marked on the side.
What flower shop was there at the Via Condotti? A new shop perhaps?
"Need some help?" Mario offered, walking over to him.
The young man quickly looked up, his face blanching and turning white. "No, Officer."
Mario squinted at the closed boxes of flowers. They were wide bouquets, stacked on top of each other in the back of the van.
Why would one load this many flowers into an apartment? Mario wondered.
"Opening a flower store?" Mario asked.
"Y-..yes," The young man mumbled, standing in between Mario and the open door of his van. The young man clutched onto the long box in his hand.
A bit too long to be flowers...
"Where?" Mario replied.
The young man didn't respond, merely shrugging. Hired labor, perhaps. Mario's eyes trailed from the nervous sweat beading on his forehead to the way his hands fidgeted. Perhaps it was the terrible coffee, or perhaps it was something... but nothing seemed right. Mario's hand traveled downwards, settling on top of his worn service revolver.
"Put the box down." Mario commanded.
Rather than dropping the box as Mario had expected, the young man, damn near hyperventilating, set the box down as gently and as gingerly as he could at Mario's feet.
"I'm sorry--... I'm sorry... they paid me so much." The young man began to blabber, walking towards Mario with his hands up.
"Step back!" Mario barked, pulling out his service revolver and holding it up. The young man immediately threw his hands up and stopped. Around them, shoppers began to stop and gawk, pointing. With his free hand, Mario spoke into his radio. "Giovannazi here, requesting reinforcements, corner of Andretti and Condotti."
"On the way, Officer." The radio responded. "Please describe the incident."
Holding up his revolver, Mario gingerly lifted the top of the box with his foot and set in motion a series of events that would span the entire globe. He only needed a few centimeters of clearance to see the dark plastic tube on the inside. Years in the Alpini, fighting against insurgents in Sardinia, let him instantly know that what was in the box of flowers wasn't roses for a loved one, but a disassembled RPG-2 tube.
"Terrorism threat, Via Condotti, Code Two." Mario said into the radio.
"Copy, Officer. Special Intervention Group have been notified and are on their way."[/hr]
Though, there is a chance that will not be our future.
You see, sometimes the World gets just a little bit of help. Sometimes, something steps in the way of disaster. For us, and hopefully, for our future, it will be a young Italian Royal Carabinieri police officer Appuntato Mario Giovanazzi. Through some stroke of dumb luck, Mr. Giovanazzi will give us time and an opportunity. Whether the world chooses to seize the opportunity that has been placed at their feet, it must at least be considered and under no circumstances can it not be wasted. We do not know if what we will do will work. But we must try. We must do something. For to save one life, to allow that one passenger to go home ignorant of the tragedy that may have struck them would be worth it.
Not often do we get a chance to see the swerving car that will end our lives in a flash, and get the chance to step out of it's way. Mario Giovanazzi, unknowingly, will give 2,997 lives that chance. We ought to take it.
///
He had resolutely decided that the coffee was much too cold. He enjoyed his coffee the Alpini way. Just a hint of salt and sipped at a near boil. It was the only way to ward off the cold... even though he was hardly in the cold! In the Via Condotti, where the rich and the beautiful congregated to spend his entire annual salary on a handbag, he could hardly say that he was living in the conditions that he had spent a considerable amount of his youth in.
Mario threw in the towel, walking over and tossing the half-full cup of coffee into the garbage bin.
"No good, eh, Officer?" A passing woman teased, her giggling friends following.
"I merely was seeking an excuse to have another look at you, signora." Mario shot back, adjusting his cap.
The women roared in laughter, walking past. The woman, a delightful looking redhead, looked over her shoulder at him and blew him a kiss. Mario shot her a wink.
Even if the coffee wasn't as good, the atmosphere certainly was.
For the last two months of his life, he had been assigned to the Via Condotti as a patrol officer. For eight hours every day, he waltzed up the Via Condotti and waltzed down, admiring the people, the weather, the hilariously bad taxi drivers, and the outrageously high prices. Like all good Carabinieri, it was their duty to not be officers, but to be community officers. He was known by every shopkeeper up and down the Via. The young children living in the apartment buildings came to him for candy, the old women whacked him with their handbags for not arriving in time to walk them across the street.
He knew everyone.
Except him... the young man ferrying long boxes into the entrance of one of the apartment buildings from his van, a Flower Store marked on the side.
What flower shop was there at the Via Condotti? A new shop perhaps?
"Need some help?" Mario offered, walking over to him.
The young man quickly looked up, his face blanching and turning white. "No, Officer."
Mario squinted at the closed boxes of flowers. They were wide bouquets, stacked on top of each other in the back of the van.
Why would one load this many flowers into an apartment? Mario wondered.
"Opening a flower store?" Mario asked.
"Y-..yes," The young man mumbled, standing in between Mario and the open door of his van. The young man clutched onto the long box in his hand.
A bit too long to be flowers...
"Where?" Mario replied.
The young man didn't respond, merely shrugging. Hired labor, perhaps. Mario's eyes trailed from the nervous sweat beading on his forehead to the way his hands fidgeted. Perhaps it was the terrible coffee, or perhaps it was something... but nothing seemed right. Mario's hand traveled downwards, settling on top of his worn service revolver.
"Put the box down." Mario commanded.
Rather than dropping the box as Mario had expected, the young man, damn near hyperventilating, set the box down as gently and as gingerly as he could at Mario's feet.
"I'm sorry--... I'm sorry... they paid me so much." The young man began to blabber, walking towards Mario with his hands up.
"Step back!" Mario barked, pulling out his service revolver and holding it up. The young man immediately threw his hands up and stopped. Around them, shoppers began to stop and gawk, pointing. With his free hand, Mario spoke into his radio. "Giovannazi here, requesting reinforcements, corner of Andretti and Condotti."
"On the way, Officer." The radio responded. "Please describe the incident."
Holding up his revolver, Mario gingerly lifted the top of the box with his foot and set in motion a series of events that would span the entire globe. He only needed a few centimeters of clearance to see the dark plastic tube on the inside. Years in the Alpini, fighting against insurgents in Sardinia, let him instantly know that what was in the box of flowers wasn't roses for a loved one, but a disassembled RPG-2 tube.
"Terrorism threat, Via Condotti, Code Two." Mario said into the radio.
"Copy, Officer. Special Intervention Group have been notified and are on their way."[/hr]
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