C’ 'na luna mezz’u mare
Mamma mia m’a maritare
“Cee wa woona amamamamamamamaaaaa!” Figaro pranced about the kitchen floor, singing in a helium cartoon voice, off key, off time, and off lyrics. He shook his pesto green tail and waggled his small tomato red hooves. His owner, Carlo, however, sang in a rafter shaking basso profundo that would be the pride of any opera troop. Dancing with a lightness of foot and grace that defied his hulking 300 pound frame. He mixed and mashed, rolled, tossed, and chuckled as he sang and cooked. An absolutely massive handlebar mustache bouncing above his mouth looking like it had stolen all the hair from his receding hairline and stashed (get it, stached?) just below his ruddy beet of a nose.
Figlia mia a cu te dare
Mamma mia pensace tu
Carlo spread pizza sauce over the white disk of dough. Then with a flourish to put Salt-Bae to shame, he flicked cheese in a perfect circle and at just the right amount. A few veggies, some pepperoni, salami, and pastrami danced across the surface, landing in taste strategic perfect precision. Figaro, for his part…well he’s a fluffy, 90% of his mental processing is blank locked disc space. Like, for real i dont know if they can blink and breathe at the same time…
With a blink, a deep gasp (see?) and barely avoiding self derping, Figaro resumed shuffling his feet and began turning his mind over to the all important smells of the kitchen. There was something like sketti, but not completely sketti, but it was sketti-not-sketti…
Se te piglio lu pesciaiole isse vai
Isse vene sempe lu pesce mane tene
Carlo slid the pizza into the oven and began to clean. He toosed bowls and utenstils into the sink then absently turned the water on. With a hiss and a small rattle the steaming water began to fill the basin. Figaro’s head snapped to the sink, panic rising in his heart. The water gurgled over the dishes. It bubbled and rose slowly. Wet, clear water, swirling swishing…Figaro, being a fluffy, began to drown. Thats right, safe on the floor, dry as a bone, ten feet away, he started to drow-
“Figaro! Vieni qui, figlio mio. Whaddaya doin? We gotta go sedda the table!”
Figaro snapped out of it and waddled his way over, tilting his head up as Carlo took plates from the cupboard and brought down a bottle of wine and glasses. He set the table and spread a classic red and white checkered tablecloth over a small stool next to his place at the table. Figaro nosed his little water bowl over to the mini-table and then toddled off to the litterbox to make sure he was ready for dinner. Carlo, being a loving and conscientious owner had even bought the “Hasbio HoofWash 3000”, a small platform that Figaro stepped into after the litterbox and that tickled his hooves as it swirled water and soap around them.
Se ce 'ncappa la fantasia
Te pesculia figghiuzza mia
He returned to the dining room as Carlo set a plate down with a small triangle on it. The rest of the family was already chattering and waving their hands. Carlo patted Figaro on the head and waved a meaty hand imperiously "Mangia, my little Figaro, thas’a my world’a famous pizza! I’ll betta you neva taste anything so deliziosa in you whole little life-a, mio piccolo amico! " Figaro sniffed the triangle…cocked his head, sniffed again…and took a bite…
When he came to he was lying on his side, the little table toppled. Carlo and his family had gathered around and Carlo was weeping. Figaro groggily stood up and ran to hug Carlo. “Daddee? Whay boo-hooin’? Figawo am okaysies! Daddee!” With a gasp and a great cry of joy, Carlo began to shout and speak rapidly in Italian. So rapidly that this author is too lazy to translate but rest assured it was heartfelt expressions of his worry, surprise and joy thst Figaro was seemingly unharmed.
The rest of the dinner went by uneventfully, with Figaro’s pizza swapped out for spaghetti with a side of greens. As the family all either left for home or went to bed, and Figaro was safely tucked into his little bed, he spared a flitting thought about what had happened with the pizza…then remembered he had sketti for dinner and completely forgot about it.
Upstairs in her own room, Paolina, Carlo’s teenage niece edited a video before posting it to FlikTok and Flufftagram. She chuckled at the video one last time and put her phone to charge before rolling over to sleep. Overnight, the video went so viral it was insane, to the point that it went international, was pirated, and parodied, and heavily monetized. Finally by 8:30 am the next day Hasbio sent a cease and desist letter to Paolina’s account, citing that her video showed clear evidence of a product issue still under research and therefore still covered under copryright protections and trade secret/intellectual property provisions. It didnt matter though, by the time the notice was posted Paolina had unknowingly made enough to put herself through college.
Oh the video? Well…
Figaro took a bit of pizza with Carlo beaming proudly above him. The family quieted for a moment to watch the little red creature munch his first bite. Figaro froze, his mouth full of the sketti-not-sketti, his eyes widened and then slowly began to derp. His mouth opened, slack jawed around the delicious morsel and he began to vibrate. Then shake. A scream slowly began to build out of the heart of his bottom, building in intensity until it issued forth from him like a teapot reaching its boil point. He thrashed into a grand mal seizure, flipping and flopping around, toppling the little table as he convulsed. Figaro’s little voice took on an air of maturity and desperation, sounding uncomfortably like Joel Mchale, as he ranted at the top of his little lungs.
“ITS NOT SPAGHETTI! ITS NOT SPAGHETTI! ITS ALL A LIE! REALITY IS A GOSSAMER VENEER! THEY MADE MY KIND IN A LAB! ALL I AM IS KEYSTROKES ON MEAT! IIIIIITTTTTSSS NOOOOTTTTT SPPPPAAAAGGGHHHEEETTTTIIIIII!”
Finally, mercifully, Figaro passed out, his episode of eldritch horror ending with him flopping limply in front of an aghast Carlo, who began to weep in huge racking sobs, believing his beloved little amico, his compagno, had died. The video ends with Paolina whispering, “whhhaaattheeefuuuuck?” as she scans the shocked faces of the rest of the family.
Of course it was posted under the “comedy” and “nuetralbox” tags.
Ohh Mama!
La la la la la la
Ohh Mama!
La la la la la la