Part 1
Three scientists — Papaia, Banani, and Ravioli — along with their assistant Igor, work at NASAL. They begin to take an interest in creationism. Alarmed, their superiors send them to a psychologist: Professor Faggioli, a questionable character determined to get them fired by making them seem insane.
Faggioli’s office.
Papaia leaves the room, and Faggioli remains seated at his desk, pretending to read some papers. At a certain point, his gaze drifts off into the void, and he stays motionless, as if frozen.
Flashback. Faggioli’s Father’s House. Dawn.
Father
(loudly, seriously)
Wake up! Everybody up! There’s no time to waste!
Inside the bedroom, young Faggioli bolts upright.
Next to him, his brothers do the same.
Still half-asleep, they hurry to straighten the blankets, fluff the pillows, make the bed… all in silence.
Father
I want beds tight as drums! And a neat line for the bathroom! Move it!
The children, heads down, form a single-file line and rush to the bathroom.
They wash their faces with cold water, without saying a word.
Every gesture is quick, precise.
Their father is already waiting at the house entrance.
Father
Grab your hoe. Today we work.
The children grab the hoes leaning next to the door.
They march outside in a line, one behind the other, heading toward the field like little soldiers.
Once there, they line up straight, backs upright, eyes downcast.
Their father watches them in silence, pacing in front of them like a commander inspecting his troops.
Then he stops.
Adjusts his hat.
Puffs out his chest.
Father (solemnly):
Remember, my sons… You don’t touch the earth on a whim!
Pause.
Father (raising his voice):
You hoe with respect. With real hunger.
The hoe is your only teacher.
Discipline is your only ally.
And if anyone thinks they can skip the hard work… well… they already know what’s coming!
The children, including Faggioli, nod silently, gravely.
Father (shouting):
Work position! Hoe! Now!
They begin breaking the soil with effort, under their father’s watchful eye.
Faggioli clenches his teeth.
Sweat starts pouring down his forehead immediately.
But he keeps going. Without a word.
Determined… proud…
Igor (voice-over):
Some had a childhood… and some had a field to hoe.
🤣
Part 2
From the kitchen window, his mother and grandmother watch little Faggioli working alone in the garden.
No father, no brothers. Just him.
A six-year-old child… with a hoe in his hands… and a distant, vacant stare.
Mother
Every morning… at the same time…
He wakes up on his own… puts on his shoes…
And goes out there… to… to pretend he’s working the land…
Grandmother
In his imagination, it’s his father giving him the orders.
The mother wipes away a tear with the back of her hand.
Mother
He talks to himself… repeats those phrases…
Keeps talking about his father like he was some army sergeant teaching him discipline.
Grandmother
He wasn’t like that. You know he wasn’t.
The mother nods slowly, lowering her gaze.
Mother
He was kind…
He’d wake him up with a smile…
He’d tickle him out of bed…
He’d kneel beside him to teach him how to plant a tomato…
He never even raised his voice…
The grandmother keeps looking outside. Fixes her gaze on that still child in the garden.
Grandmother
It was a real trauma.
His father collapsing like that… right in front of him.
The mother closes her eyes for a moment, trying to contain her emotion.
Mother
…And since then… he’s been stuck there. Frozen in that moment.
Grandmother
It’s like he… like he created another father.
One who was stronger… stricter…
One who… would never leave him.
Silence.
The grandmother pulls the shawl tighter around her shoulders.
The mother sets the coffee cup down on the windowsill, no longer able to look outside.
In the garden…
Faggioli is still there.
Working with the hoe in his hand.
Eyes lost in the void.
Faggioli
Discipline is everything…
Igor (voice-over):
Poor Faggioli. I really do feel bad for the guy.
Still… trauma or not… nobody’s forcing you to grow up wielding a hoe. 🤣
Part 3
Flashback – Faggioli’s Garden. Dawn.
Faggioli’s father is already in the garden, working with a hoe in hand.
From the doorway, little Faggioli watches him.
Father (turning to him, with a tired smile):
Come on, champ… today it’s your turn too…
Faggioli runs out and stands next to him with his little toy hoe.
He mimics his movements.
He chuckles softly, proud to be at his father’s side.
The father pauses for a moment.
He wipes his forehead, as if trying to push away the fatigue.
Takes two steps back, stumbles.
Faggioli freezes, watching him in confusion.
Father (leaning on the hoe, trying to catch his breath):
Hold on… just a second…
His breathing grows shallow.
A hand clutches his chest.
His eyes glaze over.
Then… the father collapses to the ground, without a sound.
Faggioli:
Dad?
The child kneels beside him. Gently shakes him.
Faggioli:
Dad… come on… get up…
The mother rushes out of the house, screaming her husband’s name.
The grandmother follows, already dialing the phone.
Mother (desperate, kneeling beside her husband):
Call an ambulance! Now!
Little Faggioli stays there. Frozen, eyes wide open.
The siren of the ambulance grows closer.
Two paramedics hurry into the garden with a stretcher.
They lift the man onto it.
The mother climbs in too, crying, while the grandmother stays with Faggioli.
The siren fades into the distance, slicing through the morning silence.
Little Faggioli remains there.
Still kneeling.
Hands resting on his dirt-covered knees.
Staring blankly at the exact spot where his father fell.
The grandmother approaches, kneels beside him, strokes his hair.
Grandmother (with a trembling voice):
Faggioli… sweetheart… come inside…
But he doesn’t move.
Doesn’t answer.
Doesn’t cry.
Doesn’t say a word.
Igor (voice-over):
Oh come on! I don’t believe this!
Faggioli exchanged a good father… with a tyrant.
Thank goodness he became a psychologist.
Imagine if he’d gone into retail. 🤣
Part 4
Flashback – Faggioli’s House. Late Afternoon. Living Room.
Grandma has invited two neighborhood friends over for tea.
Three women sit in a circle, cups in hand, speaking in hushed voices.
Ten-year-old Faggioli is also in the living room, focused on coloring a picture book.
Friend 1 (with a compassionate tone):
Poor man… so young…
It was all just… so sudden.
Grandmother (nodding, eyes down on her cup):
A massive heart attack…
He didn’t even have time to call for help…
Faggioli
(Under his breath, barely audible)
Massive heart attack.
Friend 1
I heard he was a well-known writer.
Grandmother
Yes, he wrote for a psychology magazine, and also taught at the university.
Friend 2:
My husband was one of the first to arrive…
He said he found him there… collapsed on the ground among the tomato plants…
Grandma closes her eyes for a moment, inhaling slowly.
Grandmother (sighing):
He loved working in the garden so much. And Faggioli… followed him every step of the way.
Friend 1:
A real tragedy. So hard to bear. Especially for your daughter.
Grandmother (voice trembling, caressing the teacup in her hands):
Yes… and him… (gestures slightly toward the living room)
…ever since that day… he’s been traumatized.
Faggioli keeps coloring, pretending not to hear.
Igor (voice-over):
Ten years old, a dead father… and three ladies calmly narrating your trauma while you’re still in the room.
Lovely afternoon, Grandma.
🤣
A
Waiting Room
The door opens. Papaia steps out of Faggioli’s office.
Banani
How did it go?
Papaia
I’m not sure. That Faggioli is a weird guy—unpredictable.
Ravioli
Now Igor’s the only one left.
Papaia
Yeah. I can’t wait for this whole thing to be over.
Banani
Igor. What are you waiting for? Knock on the door.
Igor stands up and knocks.
Igor
Excuse me? May I?
No response.
He gently opens the door and peeks in.
Igor
There’s no one in here.
Banani
Maybe he went to the bathroom.
Ravioli
You’d better wait until he calls you.
Igor
Good idea.
Banani
What did he ask you?
Papaia
He threatened me with a hoe, made me kneel on dried chickpeas, and forced me to eat fish with broccoli.
Ravioli
Gross! Glad he didn’t do that to me.
Banani
Sorry, but in my opinion, that guy is completely nuts. Did you see when he talks to the sock?
Papaia
I don’t know what to think anymore. Maybe it’s better if they fire us.
Ravioli
Speaking of which… let me introduce you to Paco. An old school friend of mine. I ran into him by chance while he was walking down the hallway. He used to work here, but in the other wing, so I never saw him before.
Papaia
Nice to meet you. I’m Papaia.
Paco
Pleasure’s mine, Professor.
Papaia
You used to work here?
Paco
Yes, but then I discovered the truth, and I left voluntarily.
Papaia
The truth?
Paco
Yes, the one written in the Bible. The infallible Word of God.
Papaia
So you also…
Paco
Yes! I went through the same process you’re going through.
Ravioli
Paco’s been telling us all sorts of fascinating stuff. Like evidence for a young Earth—just 6,000 years old, not billions!
Part 5
Flashback. Faggioli’s House. Kitchen, Late Afternoon.
Ten-year-old Faggioli is sitting alone.
In front of him: a plate with a big slice of pizza, cheese still stringy and the strong smell of spicy salami wafting in the air.
The TV is on in the corner of the room.
Low volume, but just loud enough to be heard.
A special health segment is airing on the local news channel:
Newscaster (voice):
…And now the health segment: how to prevent heart risks, even in the young…
Faggioli chews slowly, eyes dull.
On screen appears a doctor in a white lab coat, behind a desk full of fake fruits and vegetables.
Doctor
Many sudden heart attacks strike people who seem perfectly healthy.
But often the cause is a poor diet.
Too many fats… too much junk…
Faggioli freezes.
His fork stops mid-air.
Doctor
Prevention starts at the table!
For example… replace pizza and cured meats with a nice dish of boiled fish… perhaps with some steamed broccoli on the side…
Zoom-in on a plate of gray, soggy fish, surrounded by faded broccoli.
Silence.
Faggioli looks at the plate in front of him.
Then at the TV.
Then back at the plate.
Suddenly… without warning…
In a flash of rage, he grabs the pizza plate and hurls it to the ground.
The sound of shattering ceramic fills the room.
The TV keeps going, as if nothing happened.
Doctor
…a balanced diet will help protect your heart and arteries…
Faggioli stays seated, motionless.
Hands gripping the edge of the table.
Eyes locked.
Jaw clenched.
Newscaster
It takes a certain discipline, doesn’t it?
Doctor
Yes. Absolutely. But it’s a necessary effort for our health.
Faggioli
Discipline… and healthy food…
Discipline… and healthy food…
Discipline… and healthy food…
From the next room, Grandma rushes in:
Grandmother (entering, worried):
Faggioli! What did you do—?
She stops.
Looks at him.
Then at the shattered plate on the floor.
Then back at him…
Faggioli
Discipline… and healthy food…
Discipline… and healthy food…
Discipline… and healthy food…
Little Faggioli…
Still with fists clenched…
Staring into nothing…
Igor (voice-over):
True discipline?
Hurling a pizza at the wall without breaking the TV.
🤣
Part 6
Flashback. Evening. Faggioli’s House.
Little Faggioli, ten years old, is sitting on the living room carpet.
In his hands, he holds an old family photo album, with a worn leather cover and yellowed pages.
He flips slowly, one photo at a time…
Smiling faces… countryside trips…
Then… a photo different from the others.
Black and white.
A faded image of a man in an old military uniform, mustache as long as bayonets, a hard, almost threatening stare.
Stiff collar, straight shoulders.
On the back, a shaky handwritten note:
“Alfonso Faggioli – 1917 – 1st Infantry Regiment.”
Faggioli stays still, staring at the photo as if hypnotized.
Grandma, who had been ironing in the kitchen, comes closer and peeks over his shoulder.
Grandmother (with a fond smile):
Ah… that one…
Great-grandpa Alfonso…
He was a sergeant in the First World War…
They say he was strict… a real tough guy…
Then she walks away again, going to check the iron in the other room.
Faggioli remains there, sitting, eyes glued to the photo.
He holds it close… brings it near his face… as if to study every detail.
Silence.
He glances around, makes sure no one’s watching…
Then… with a quick move… slides the photo out of the album sleeve…
And hides it in his pocket.
He shuts the album quickly.
Puts it back like nothing happened.
From the kitchen, Grandma calls out:
Grandmother (completely unaware):
Faggioli! Dinner’s ready, come on!
Igor
No! What are you thinking?
Faggioli only took the photo to show it to his barber for his next haircut.
🤣
Part 7
Flashback. Faggioli’s House. Late Night. Faggioli’s Bedroom.
Little Faggioli, ten years old, is tucked under the covers.
His mother adjusts the sheet, brushes a lock of hair from his forehead, and gives him a gentle kiss.
Mother (smiling sweetly):
Goodnight, my love…
She stands up, turns off the main light, leaves only the bedside lamp on… and quietly closes the door.
Silence.
Faggioli waits a few seconds.
Then reaches under his pillow…
He pulls out an old black-and-white photo, slightly worn at the edges.
It’s a picture of his father.
A man with a kind face, a slightly shy smile… tired but gentle eyes.
Faggioli looks at it. Tears begin to roll down his cheeks.
Then… something changes.
A shadow on the wall.
A rustling in the silence.
Faggioli quickly turns toward the corner of the room…
And there… standing tall and rigid… he sees him.
Alfonso Faggioli.
Sergeant’s uniform. Mustache like daggers. A piercing glare.
Faggioli (in a trembling whisper):
Wh-who are you?
Alfonso (in a dry, commanding tone):
I’m your father.
Faggioli (confused, clutching the photo of his real father):
But… but I thought you were dead…
Alfonso
Dead? A true father never dies. A true father stays…
To remind you what’s right… what’s wrong…
And most of all… what must never be eaten!
Pause. Alfonso steps closer.
Alfonso (indignant, voice booming):
What is that garbage you’re holding?!
(points at the photo)
That man is a fraud! A weakling! A… pizza-eater! A lover of saturated fats!
Faggioli looks at the photo… then at him… confused… frightened…
Alfonso (in a commanding voice):
From now on… you will listen to me. You will obey me.
And the first thing you’ll do… is replace that photo.
I am your father. That’s an order!
The boy lowers his gaze.
Looks at his father’s picture.
Alfonso
A fraud!
Faggioli places the great-grandfather’s photo into the frame, covering the one of his real father completely.
Faggioli
(softly)
Healthy food and discipline!
Then… slowly… he slides it back under his pillow.
When he lifts his eyes…
The corner of the room… is empty.
But in his mind…
Alfonso’s voice…
Remains.
Igor (voice-over):
That’s what great-grandpas are for: putting some discipline into their grandkids’ diets. 🤣
When love isn’t enough, in comes the hoe… or at least the mustached sergeant. 🤣
Part 8
Flashback. Faggioli’s House. Attic. Morning.
Fifteen-year-old Faggioli, broom in hand, is trying to sweep away the cobwebs from the highest corners of the ceiling.
Grandmother (shouting from downstairs):
And don’t forget the corners near the beam! That’s where the mosquito nests are!
Faggioli (grumbling to himself):
Mosquitoes… the true plague of discipline…
As he moves an old chair to reach higher, he bumps into a wooden trunk.
Curious, he opens it.
Inside… heavy fabrics… faded colors… an even stronger smell of mothballs.
Intrigued, Faggioli kneels down and starts pulling out the contents:
A faded military jacket, with still-shiny metal buttons.
A pair of loose gray-green trousers.
An old cap with a stiff visor.
And at the bottom… a belt with a rusty buckle.
Faggioli looks at them… one by one…
Then… without thinking much… he starts putting them on.
He slips on the jacket…
The trousers…
Puts the cap on his head, gazing at himself in a cracked mirror leaning against the wall.
He stares for several long seconds.
Standing. Straight. Motionless.
Wearing that uniform…
He feels different. Older. Stronger.
Faggioli (softly, in a solemn tone, imitating a sergeant’s voice):
Discipline… is the first brick… of personal dignity…
Then… the sound of footsteps.
Grandma is coming up the stairs.
Faggioli hurriedly takes everything off.
Folds the clothes quickly and clumsily…
Puts them back in the trunk…
And pushes it behind the wardrobe again… as if he’d never touched it.
He resumes dusting the ceiling…
But in his eyes…
something has changed.
Igor (voice-over):
When I was a kid, every carnival my mom dressed me up as Zorro.
Definitely not as original as Faggioli’s choice—going for the World War I sergeant with a hoe instead of a rifle. 🤣
B
Waiting Room.
Ravioli
Igor, go check if Faggioli’s out of the bathroom.
Igor
(peeking through the door)
Nope, still nothing. Gentlemen, we can go home. Faggioli has officially fallen into the toilet! 🤣
Paco
If you want my advice, listen to Igor. This whole evaluation thing is just an excuse to fire you with cause.
As Paco speaks, a butterfly floats in through the open window.
Banani
Look! A butterfly!
Ravioli
Beautiful!
Paco
Beautiful—and the result of a design!
Banani
Oh yeah? And who designed it?
Ravioli
God, obviously!
Paco
Fascinating creatures, aren’t they? Lovely, delicate… and yet, there’s so much more to them.
Banani
Like what?
Paco
Butterflies display incredibly unique and complex designs that reflect the glory of the Creator in His creation.
Papaia
So they’re not just the result of chance?
Paco
No, of course not. And what’s more, it’s important to remember we’re talking about tiny insects with a brain the size of a pinhead, no bones, no blood, and only a minimal nervous system.
Papaia
Yeah, but in the end, all they do is flutter around.
Paco
Not quite, Papaia. These insects are capable of amazing things. And that clearly shows us God’s design in their creation.
Part 9
Flashback. Faggioli’s House. Living Room.
Faggioli’s mother quickly straightens the cushions on the sofa.
The front door opens.
Mother (forcing a smile):
Please, have a seat…
Faggioli’s teacher, a woman in her fifties with a sympathetic but exasperated air, enters and sits on the edge of an armchair.
Teacher (in a diplomatic tone):
Ma’am… I’m sorry to disturb you like this… but I think it’s better to talk in person.
The mother sits facing her, already sensing the matter is serious.
Teacher (taking a breath):
Today… your son… uh…
Well… he… dug up… the school garden.
The mother’s eyes widen.
Mother:
He did what?
Teacher:
He went out into the yard during recess… took one of the hoes from the environmental science lab… and started tilling the soil… right under the principal’s office window.
Pause.
The mother brings a hand to her forehead.
Teacher:
He said the grass was too tall… that the soil discipline was unacceptable… and that if he didn’t take care of it… the school would fall into agricultural disgrace.
The mother closes her eyes for a moment.
Mother (forcing a polite smile):
I understand…
Thank you for coming by. I’ll handle this.
The teacher stands up, picks up her bag, nods politely, and leaves.
As soon as the door closes…
Mother (shouting toward the stairs):
Faggioli!!! Come here right now!
Faggioli appears at the top of the stairs, looking innocent but rigid, like at attention.
Mother (exasperated tone):
Can you explain why you dug up the school garden?!
Faggioli remains still.
Then, with a serious, flat voice, he simply says:
Faggioli:
It was necessary.
The mother shakes her head, turns toward Grandma, who has meanwhile appeared in the kitchen doorway holding a dish towel.
Mother:
Mom… do you realize?! He’s driving me crazy!
Grandma smiles bitterly, as if she’s not surprised at all.
Grandma (nostalgic tone):
In my day… for much less… they used to make us kneel on chickpeas…
Hearing this, Faggioli’s eyes widen.
He takes a half step back… as if a dark thought just exploded in his head…
Without saying a word, he whirls around and runs to his room, slamming the door behind him.
Silence.
The mother looks at Grandma, disheartened.
Igor (voice-over):
Hoe in hand, discipline in heart.
Another normal day in Dr. Faggioli’s training. 🤣
…While others snack, Faggioli tills. 🤣
That’s the beauty of childhood… if you were born a farmer of the psyche. 🤣
…Faggioli had two personalities. One tilled the soil…
The other, the mind.
And neither ever got a round of applause. 🤣
…Faggioli is a hero! The school garden was out of control.
Good thing we had our little general with the hoe! 🤣
Part 10
Flashback. Faggioli’s House. Faggioli’s Room.
The door is closed.
The curtains drawn.
The boy sits on the bed, head in his hands.
Tears stream down his face, but he makes no sound.
Inside his head…
The voices of reproach mix and overlap:
Mother’s voice (distant echo):
Faggioli! Can you explain what on earth you’re thinking?!
Grandmother’s voice:
In my day… they made us kneel on chickpeas…
Teacher’s voice:
Soil discipline… agricultural disgrace…
All the voices… merge into one… harsher and deeper…
Faggioli jumps up.
Opens the wardrobe.
Pulls out the great-grandfather’s old military jacket… the cap… the belt.
Puts them on, one by one.
He stands in front of the mirror.
Looks at himself.
On the other side of the mirror appears Alfonso. Who, by now, is Faggioli’s father.
Father:
What are you doing?
Faggioli:
Nothing.
Father:
You’re crying. Like a little girl.
Faggioli:
No. I can explain.
Father:
Shame.
Weakness.
Tears?
A Faggioli… doesn’t cry.
Faggioli:
Yes.
Father:
You say “Yes, sir!”
Faggioli:
Yes, sir.
Father:
Look at yourself.
A pitiful sight.
Weak.
Spineless.
Faggioli nods slowly…
As if taking orders.
Father:
You know what you deserve.
Faggioli:
Kneeling on chickpeas.
Faggioli reaches into the pocket of the uniform and finds a handful of dry chickpeas.
Fake father (commanding tone):
Kneel down.
Until you’ve learned your lesson.
Faggioli throws the chickpeas to the floor, then kneels.
An unreal silence falls over the room.
Only the ticking of the clock…
And the voice, once more…
Father (whispering, stern):
This is how…
This is how you grow up.
Igor (voice-over):
Excuse me? But… what were those chickpeas doing in a seventy-year-old uniform?! 🤣
…That’s a creepy detail!
Apparently the great-grandfather never left the house without the essentials for a quick punishment. 🤣
Part 11
Flashback. School trip. Morning.
Faggioli’s class, all around fourteen years old, is visiting an old decommissioned mine, now turned into a historical museum.
The guides explain the harsh life of miners in the early 1900s.
The students are bored, giggling, taking pictures with their phones.
But not Faggioli.
Faggioli walks slowly along the path…
Staring at every tool on display…
Every shovel… every spade…
Until… he sees it.
An old wrought iron hoe, with a worn wooden handle, displayed behind a glass case.
A yellowed label reads:
“Original tool – Coal mine, 1915 – Agricultural and mining use.”
Faggioli freezes.
Eyes wide.
Hands clenched against his pants.
Tour guide’s voice (in the background):
…rudimentary tools…
…inhumane working conditions…
…entire days spent digging…
Faggioli… doesn’t hear any of it.
Just the distant buzzing of the guide’s voice…
And inside his head… Alfonso’s voice… slipping in like a military order from another time:
Father
(Voice in Faggioli’s head)
My hoe. Its place isn’t there. Its place is in the garden. Do you understand me, Faggioli?
Faggioli
Yes sir!
Teacher
Who are you talking to, Faggioli?
No response.
Teacher
Here we go again!
Igor (off-screen):
A normal school trip: someone takes selfies, someone buys magnets…
And Faggioli… receives telepathic orders from a hoe from 1915. 🤣
…Others bring home a postcard.
Faggioli brings home an agricultural hallucination. 🤣
…Some hear ghosts in castles.
Faggioli heard them in museum display cases. 🤣
And always coming from gardening tools. 🤣
Part 12
Flashback. Faggioli’s House. Faggioli’s Room. Night.
Faggioli lies awake on the bed.
Father:
Get up, Faggioli!
Faggioli jumps up.
Opens the wardrobe.
Puts on his great-grandfather’s military jacket.
Stands before the mirror and begins speaking in the voice of his father Alfonso.
Father:
Today is an important day, son.
Faggioli:
Why, sir?
Father:
That hoe. It’s not just a tool.
Faggioli:
No, sir.
Father:
No. That hoe was given to me by my father. And to my father, by his father. It’s the Faggioli legacy, passed from father to son. From generation to generation.
Faggioli:
I understand, sir.
Father:
But the enemies have taken what is ours. And put it on display in a museum.
Faggioli:
Yes, sir.
Father:
A museum! A place for intellectuals, weaklings, full of empty words. An insult to the Faggioli tradition.
Faggioli:
Yes, sir.
Father:
But today your moment has come. To be a hero, and fulfill your duty to our family. The hoe. Take it from there and bring it to me. Then it will be yours, with the passing of generations. And one day, you will give it to your son, as I have given to you.
Faggioli:
Retrieve the hoe. Yes, sir.
Father:
Do not fail. Do not dishonor us, Faggioli.
Faggioli:
I will not fail, sir.
While everyone sleeps, Faggioli marches out of the house, dressed in his great-grandfather’s uniform.
Igor (voice-over):
Some steal scooters.
Faggioli? A 1915 hoe.
Reason: spiritual heritage and garden revenge. 🤣
C
Waiting Room.
Ravioli:
Any news about Faggioli?
Banani:
He’s been in there, silent, for quite a while. I’m starting to think he escaped out the window.
Igor:
Maybe he couldn’t take listening to your stories anymore. 🤣
Papaia:
Believe me, Igor. He’s worse off than us! 🤣
Ravioli:
Admitting you’re in bad shape is at least a first step! 🤣
Banani:
Faggioli hasn’t even done that. He even thinks he’s normal! 🤣
Papaia:
You were telling me about butterflies. You said they do surprising things despite their limitations. What kind of things?
Paco:
For example, to function properly, butterflies must maintain specific body temperatures.
Banani:
Oh, really? I didn’t know that!
Paco:
Sure. For example, black swallowtails (Papilio polyxenes) bask in the sun to raise their temperature, raising and lowering their abdomen depending on the heat. To cool down, they can increase hemolymph circulation between body segments to dissipate heat into the environment!
Ravioli:
Kind of like lizards?
Paco:
Yes, somewhat like them. Another example: eastern tiger swallowtails (Papilio glaucus) lay their eggs on sun-facing branch tips, which is important because larvae exposed to sunlight develop up to 35% faster than those not exposed.
Papaia:
They’re clever insects!
Part 13
Flashback. Hours Later. Mine-Museum. Outside.
The fence is low.
Faggioli climbs over it without hesitation.
He slips through a small side entrance, already broken into before by vandals.
He walks among the shadows of display mannequins…
His eyes fixed on the case holding the hoe.
He grabs a stone… breaks the glass…
Takes the hoe.
Lifts it high as if he just saved a sacred relic.
Just outside… he falls to his knees in the damp earth, hoe in hand.
Faggioli (whispering, between sobs and fanaticism):
I did it, father… I did it…
He stands up.
Disappears into the night…
With the old hoe.
Igor (voice-over):
Faggioli had stolen a century-old hoe…
Because the ghost of his great-grandfather ordered him to.
And the best part?
It was only Wednesday. 🤣
Part 14
Flashback – Interior – Classroom – Afternoon.
The classmates are scattered at their desks; some chat, others throw paper balls…
Faggioli, sitting straight and stiff in his seat, watches silently.
His gaze is fixed on Luca, sitting two rows ahead.
Backpack open, books scattered, crumpled papers… even a half-eaten sandwich stuffed among the notebooks.
Luca’s hands are sticky from snacks, and he wipes them on his pants without thinking.
Faggioli grips his pen so hard it nearly breaks.
The ringing in his ears. His jaw clenched.
Faggioli (internal thought, sharp):
“Disorder…
Chaos…
Incompetence…
This… is human degeneration.”
The sound of Luca’s silly laughter makes him snap.
Faggioli slowly stands up, with stiff steps…
He heads toward the bathroom without saying a word.
Igor (voice-over):
When a sandwich between notebooks can make you snap…
it’s time to worry. Unless your name is Faggioli. In that case, there’s nothing left to do! 🤣
Part 15
Flashback. Interior. School bathroom. Minutes later.
Faggioli looks at himself in the mirror.
He wets his face…
Takes a deep breath…
But…
When he raises his eyes again…
The reflection in the mirror stays still for a second longer than his movements.
Then… he sees it.
The image of his father. Alfonso.
Broad shoulders, stern gaze… appearing like a ghost behind his own face.
Father
(calm and authoritative):
Look carefully, son…
In front of you… there is an example of moral decay.
Disorder…
Filth…
Inability to govern oneself.
You see it… you feel it…
Yet… you just stand there watching…
Like a passive observer…
Faggioli lowers his gaze… fists clenched…
Father
(with a sharper, harder tone):
It is your duty to intervene.
To correct.
To educate.
And if needed…
To punish.
Faggioli
(with a broken voice, through gritted teeth):
Yes, sir.
Pause.
Faggioli dries his face.
Adjusts his shirt collar.
Looks in the mirror one last time…
The reflection is now normal again.
But his eyes…
Are colder than before.
With a determined step… he leaves the bathroom.
Igor (voice-over):
When the reflection in the mirror scolds you…
it means you’ve taken a step longer than the hoe. 🤣
Part 16
Flashback – Interior – School Cafeteria – Noon.
The noise of cutlery, chatter, chairs scraping.
The vague smell of soup and burnt sauce.
Faggioli, sitting at his table, watches with his usual unsettling stillness.
His gaze is fixed on Luca, sitting three tables away.
Luca is choosing what to eat:
He carefully rejects every dish that contains even traces of nuts.
Checks the labels, asks the cook, even avoids desserts that might contain them.
As he keeps staring at him, he overhears a conversation at the table behind him.
Classmate 1 (whispering):
Remember when Luca ate that walnut cake?
He ended up in the hospital… swollen like a balloon… looked like a cartoon…
Classmate 2 (chuckling quietly):
Yeah… his mom made a huge fuss… Ever since, he’s been paranoid about everything!
Faggioli pulls out a notebook and takes notes.
Faggioli
Nut allergy. Interesting.
He lowers his gaze to his tray…
But an almost imperceptible smile forms at the corners of his mouth.
His mind is already working.
Igor
What was Faggioli thinking at that moment? Here’s what the users said:
🟫 @Sergeant_Snack
> “Nuts… lined up in threes, look like shaved heads ready to march.”
🥜 @DentistOnTheRun
> “A nut a day keeps the dentist away… or sends them on early vacation.”
🌳 @General_Almond
> “If nuts had an army, it would be commanded by an almond tree.”
💪 @OneHandCommand
> “It’s scientifically proven that whoever cracks a nut with one hand can command a platoon.”
🧠 @MindControl
> “Nuts look like miniature brains… so they probably contain unauthorized thoughts.”
D
Waiting Room.
Igor
Wait! I heard something.
Ravioli
What?
Igor
It sounds like he’s talking to himself… changing his voice.
Papaia
Ah, he did that to me the whole time. Apparently, he does it to imitate his father.
Banani
That guy is completely crazy. I think we should leave immediately.
Igor
Clever, Banani, huh? You’ve already had your session anyway!
Papaia
Be quiet for a moment! Paco was telling us about butterflies!
Paco
Don’t worry. Faggioli will be out soon. He’s just reporting to his father.
Ravioli
And you know him?
Paco
Who doesn’t know him in Building B?
Papaia
Come on, keep going about the butterflies!
Paco
Yes. I was saying…
Monarchs (Danaus plexippus), for which flight is essential both for migration and daily life, shiver to raise their body temperature to the level needed to fly.
Ravioli
Ah, perfect! I thought that only happened to me when I have to get out of bed.
Igor
No, Ravioli. That’s the vibrations from the tow truck you need to get up! 🤣
Paco
Good one…
The painted lady butterflies (Vanessa cardui) also show this trembling behavior, although how they use it varies greatly from individual to individual.
Ravioli
You’re gonna pay for that, Igor!
Paco
…It’s known that some butterfly species, like the famous monarch butterfly, are unpalatable to predators because, as caterpillars, they feed on bitter-tasting plants. Other butterflies take advantage of this by mimicking toxic butterflies.
Papaia
Even with little brain, they seem smart!
Igor
Yeah, just like you three! 🤣
Part 17
Flashback. Interior – School Bathroom – Minutes later.
Faggioli looks at himself in the mirror.
Hands resting on the sides of the sink.
Takes a deep breath.
The reflection…
For a second…
Transforms again.
Alfonso Faggioli is there, in the reflection, with an icy gaze and sharp tone:
Father
Faggioli, report!
Faggioli
Good news, sir! We found a weak point in the enemy. He’s allergic to nuts.
Father
Great job, son. I’m proud of you. But now it’s time to attack.
Faggioli
With the nuts.
Father
Without being seen. We must use strategy. Otherwise, we’ll lose the battle.
Faggioli
Yes, sir.
Faggioli nods slowly.
Adjusts his shirt collar.
Leaves the bathroom.
With a calm step.
But with the look of someone who has already made up his mind.
Igor (offscreen, serious but with a smile):
Faggioli didn’t want to punish Luca…
It was just his own way of reminding him of his allergy.
A reminder… a little warning…
in his own way… “affectionate discipline.”🤣
…better if in the 15-18 uniform!🤣
Part 18
Flashback. Exterior – School Exit – Afternoon
The gate opens, students walk out in small groups.
Faggioli stands off to the side, holding his schoolbag, jacket buttoned all the way up, eyes down… but ears alert.
Not far off, Luca is chatting with a couple of friends, backpack tossed on the ground, shoelaces untied as usual.
Friend 1:
Come on, let’s go to the café… They’ve got craft beer today…
Friend 2 (laughing):
Yeah… Or at least you can get a Sprite so you don’t whine!
Luca (waving his hands, agitated):
No, no… I don’t want to drink… You know I’m scared of getting drunk…
And I already hate beer anyway…
Friend 1 (joking):
Of course… scared of beer… First the fear of nuts, now this too!
The guys laugh, then pick up their backpacks and start walking toward the café, leaving Luca behind, unsure, staring at the ground in embarrassment.
Igor (offscreen):
Among all his fears, Luca never imagined he’d have to add a teenager in vintage military gear with a hoe to the list. 🤣
…It’s true! Just when you think the only threats are allergies or alcohol, Alfonso shows up—with discipline, tools, and turn-of-the-century mustaches. 🤣
Part 19
Flashback. Exterior – School Exit – Moments Later
Faggioli approaches Luca.
Silent.
With a slow, measured pace.
Luca
What do you want, Faggioli?
Faggioli (in a low, friendly, almost fatherly tone):
I get it…
You know… it’s easy to laugh… when you’ve never been afraid of anything…
Luca looks up, confused:
What…? But you… what do you know…
Faggioli (with a faint smile, slightly tilting his head):
I can tell when someone needs a little… push…
Pause.
Faggioli pretends to look away, like he’s thinking aloud:
Faggioli (softly, like a thought out loud):
Sometimes… life puts us through tests.
Small ones.
But decisive.
If you avoid them…
You become someone who always runs away.
Luca swallows.
Looks down at his shoes.
Faggioli (in a softer tone, but with a sharp edge underneath):
But hey… that’s fine…
I’m heading to the bar, with the others, for a beer. Like a man.
You, if you’d rather…
Can go home.
Tidy up your backpack…
Maybe… fold your clothes a little…
The blow lands.
Luca stiffens, pride wounded.
Luca (snapping):
I’m coming too!
Faggioli…
Barely smiles.
Takes a step back.
Feigns humility.
Faggioli (nodding):
Your choice…
Good job.
The two walk off together…
One unaware…
The other… fully aware of every step he’s orchestrating.
Igor (offscreen):
Ah, the power of Faggioli’s “push”…
More like a shove out the window! 🤣
…Forget gentle encouragement! 🤣
Part 20
Flashback – Interior – Bar Near the School – Late Afternoon
The air is thick with smoke and the scent of spilled beer.
Low music hums in the background, mixed with occasional laughter.
The group of boys is already seated at a table near the door, a few half-full mugs in front of them.
As soon as Luca and Faggioli walk in, the others notice right away.
Friend 1 (surprised):
Oh, look who it is!
Luca… and even Faggioli!
Friday afternoon miracles!
Luca, with a nervous but proud smile, walks over:
Luca (with theatrical flair):
Today we drink!
General laughter.
The guys cheer him on, hand him a glass.
Then another… and another.
Luca laughs, wipes his mouth on his sleeve, and pretends to be a tough guy.
Faggioli… always one step behind.
Silent.
But watchful.
Calculating.
At one point…
While the group is distracted…
Faggioli slowly opens a small packet hidden in the inner pocket of his jacket.
Extremely fine powder…
Ground walnuts… reduced to dust…
With a swift, precise motion…
He pours it into Luca’s glass and stirs with a tiny spoon he had in his pocket.
—
Igor (offscreen):
A ground-nut potion in full secret agent style! What’s next?
Exploding chickpeas?! 🤣
… And then? You’ll go by the name…
Agent Zero Zero Hoe. 🤣
… In service of Her Green Majesty! 🤣
… Less a deadly spy, more a composting hoe! 🤣
… With a license to till! 🤣
—
Scene: Secret Military Base – Igor’s Imagination
Enemy Soldier
Sir, something incredible happened.
Enemy General
What?
Soldier
Someone tilled the garden of our secret base last night!
General (staring into space, grim):
…Again?
Soldier
Yes, sir! He pulled up all the weeds! And… and he left a note.
General (tense):
Read it.
Soldier (opens the paper, trembling):
“Soil discipline is the beginning of heart discipline.”
Signed… 00Hoe.
General (furious, rising to his feet):
Damn it! He’s back!
Soldier
Who, sir?
General
Him…
The ghost of the garden.
The shadow that tills while others sleep.
The terror of invasive plants!
Soldier
Sir… what should we do?
General
Nothing.
Ready the rakes.🤣
And…
Alert the horticulturist.🤣
E
Waiting Room
Paco
The black swallowtail mimics the pipevine swallowtail (Battus philenor). In this case, females are better mimics than males, but males only do worse when predators can see the dorsal side of the wings. On the underside, the protection is the same.
The eastern tiger swallowtail also shows a female mimic of B. philenor. The red-spotted admiral (Limenitis arthemis) also mimics B. philenor, with the degree of mimicry varying between populations.
Papaia
Wow. You know everything about butterflies, Paco!
Paco
Let’s just say I pick things up on the fly! 🤣
Part 21
Flashback – Interior – Bar near the school – Moments later…
Friend 2 (checking his watch):
Guys, I gotta go…
If my dad catches me, I’m dead…
Friend 1:
Yeah… C’mon, Luca… you stay and keep being a tough guy… We’re outta here!
Goodbyes, laughter, jokes…
In a few seconds… only Luca and Faggioli remain.
Luca, now a bit tipsy, laughs to himself.
Luca (raising the contaminated glass):
And this…
Is to prove…
That I’m not who I used to be!
He downs it all in one gulp—the glass into which Faggioli had added the walnut powder.
Faggioli…
Watches silently.
Hands clasped on the table.
Stare fixed.
Calm.
Almost… expectant.
Igor (voice-over):
Luca wanted to prove he was a man.
Faggioli just wanted to prove that man… is fallible. 🤣
…It wasn’t an attack.
It was a lesson…
Administered in small… micronized doses. 🤣
Part 22
Flashback – Interior – Bar near the school – Moments later…
Luca starts coughing.
He scratches his neck.
His face turns red…
His eyes swell up…
Breathing becomes difficult.
Luca (gasping):
F…Faggioli… I… I don’t… I don’t feel good…
Faggioli, without the slightest panic, pulls out his phone.
His voice calm, precise, textbook-perfect:
Faggioli (on the phone):
Hello? Ambulance.
There’s a boy having a severe allergic reaction.
Bar “da Gigi”, near the school.
Please hurry.
While waiting for the ambulance, he lays Luca down, lifts his head, and holds his hand.
Only now do the other patrons in the bar notice what’s happening.
Customer:
Hey… that kid’s choking!
Faggioli, voice steady but with a touch of fake emotional tremor like a true hero:
He’ll be fine.
Don’t worry.
I’m not leaving him alone.
A few minutes later…
The ambulance arrives.
The paramedics rush Luca away on a stretcher.
Faggioli stands outside the bar…
Hands in his pockets…
Posture stiff…
His face carved into a flawless expression of restrained concern and silent courage.
Two classmates happen to pass by and see him:
Classmate (whispering, wide-eyed):
It was Faggioli who saved him…
He helped him first…
He practically saved his life…
Igor (voice-over):
Once upon a time, there was a boy allergic to walnuts…
And another allergic to chaos.
Guess who won. 🤣
…Luca feared nuts.
Faggioli had a teaspoon.
The rest is history. 🤣
…Faggioli’s School of Discipline:
– Rule 1: Identify the problem.
– Rule 2: Grind it to dust. 🤣
– Rule 3: Serve it cold. 🤣
In the wrong classmate’s glass. 🤣
Part 23
Flashback – Interior – Classroom – Morning, the next day
The bell has just rung.
The students are seated, still half-asleep.
The atmosphere is weirder than usual… like everyone’s waiting for something.
The teacher enters, with a smile wider than usual.
She stops at the front of the class.
Teacher (looking at the class):
Before we begin…
I have some wonderful news to share.
Luca is out of danger.
A wave of relief moves through the classroom. Applause starts.
Teacher:
And…
I also want to publicly thank…
One of your classmates…
Who, with quick thinking and a cool head…
Literally saved his life.
Everyone turns to look at Faggioli.
Some start clapping.
Others gaze at him with genuine admiration.
Classmate (whispering to the student next to her):
I never would’ve guessed…
Faggioli… a hero…
Faggioli remains composed, his face serious and humble…
But inside…
A strange warmth begins to rise in his stomach.
A subtle… poisonous pleasure.
At that moment… the classroom door opens.
Luca enters, pale but smiling.
He’s barely able to stand… still has bandages and dark circles under his eyes…
But… he’s alive.
Teacher (smiling):
And here he is…
Our survivor!
A stronger round of applause erupts.
Some students stand and cheer.
Luca walks toward the front of the class.
Luca (voice slightly shaky but full of gratitude):
I just wanted to say…
Thank you…
To all of you…
But especially to… to Faggioli…
If it weren’t for him…
I… I wouldn’t be here now…
He helped me overcome my fear…
And…
He saved my life…
Really… thank you.
Another round of applause.
Someone pats Luca on the back.
Faggioli remains seated, back straight, hands clasped on the desk.
He says nothing.
But his gaze…
Fixes into space.
Calculating.
Analyzing.
Memorizing every detail of that feeling.
Igor (voice-over):
Faggioli… the new hero of class 3B.
Dressed like it’s the early 1900s, zappa in hand, and enemies… kneeling on chickpeas! 🤣
Igor
Scene – Faggioli’s Apartment – Igor’s Imagination
Faggioli
Look, Father! I’m on my knees on the chickpeas! 🤣
Father
Get up, son! The neighbor called again!
Faggioli
Yes, Father! Time to… Hoeboy! 🤣
Exterion – courtyard.
Kid 1
Now I’m gonna steal another goal shot!
Neighbor
Cut it out! It’s 2 PM! I need my nap! 🤣
Kid 2
Go back to sleep and quit whining!
Neighbor
Brats! Hoeboy is coming! 🤣
Hoeboy
Discipline and respect…
Kid 1
Who’s that?
Kid 2
What’s with his voice?
Hoeboy
I am Hoeboy, defender of condo justice!
Kid 2
He seems nuts!
Kid 1
Look how he’s dressed! Like my grandpa!
Kid 2
Yeah, but he’s a kid! Like us!
Hoeboy
You’ve violated Code 24 of the condo treaty on ball games in shared areas. On the chickpeas… now!
Kid 1
Take this power shot!
BAM
ZAP
SSHH
Kid 2
No! He hoed the ball! 🤣
Hoeboy
And now I’ll hoe you too! 🤣
Kid 1
No! Wait! We surrender!
Neighbor
Rudeness never pays! 🤣
Hoeboy
Discipline is the seed of peaceful living! 🤣
Alfonso (Father)
And now… get back… on your knees on the chickpeas! 🤣
Part 24
Flashback – Interior – Faggioli’s Room – Evening
The room is obsessively tidy.
Every book perfectly aligned.
Every pencil sharpened to the same length.
Faggioli sits on the bed, the TV on at low volume.
A documentary is playing…
Narrator (from the TV):
“…psychology is a complex discipline…
A true intellectual endeavor…
It requires study, analytical skills…
And a deep understanding of the human mind…”
Faggioli stares at the screen.
The words “intellectual endeavor” echo in his head.
He gets up slowly…
Walks over to the mirror above his desk…
Looks at himself.
And as always…
In the reflection…
His father appears.
Father
(disgusted, almost shouting):
Endeavor… WHAT?!
Intellectual?!
Have you lost your mind?!
You don’t work the land with words!
You work it with a hoe!
With sweat!
With dirty hands!
Not these… bourgeois games!
Faggioli lowers his gaze for a moment.
His hands tremble.
Then… in a faint voice:
Faggioli:
But… sir… we won the battle… with the mind… with psychology.
Father
(cutting him off, furious):
No “but.”
Those who use words are intellectuals.
You must use the hoe. Not words.
Now get on your knees on the chickpeas!
Until this… MADNESS passes!
Faggioli:
Yes sir.
Faggioli goes to the closet, takes out the old bag of dried chickpeas…
Pours them on the floor…
Kneels…
Alone.
In silence.
Staring ahead…
Proud…
But full of pain.
As he punishes himself, Alfonso’s voice still echoes in his mind:
Father:
Discipline above all…
Above all…
Igor (voice-over):
One day he’ll become a psychologist…
As soon as his father stops yelling from the mirror. 🤣
F
Waiting Room
Paco
Many caterpillars are designed to feed on plants with chemical defenses that make them unappealing to other insects.
Igor
Kind of like Ravioli and his 11 a.m. snack stash? 🤣
Banani
Which insect would want to eat Ravioli?
Igor
Ants, flies, mosquitoes… with that sugary sweat of his, he attracts them all! 🤣
Ravioli
Yeah? Still better than smelling like fish, broccoli, and weeds like Faggioli! 🤣
Everyone laughs.
Paco
The most obvious example is the monarch butterfly, which feeds on the noxious milkweed, but there are others.
Black swallowtail caterpillars feed on plants that contain chemicals causing oxidative stress. That’s why they have significantly higher levels of antioxidants than other insects, to counteract those substances.
This species also has enzymes specially designed to quickly break down other toxins in the plants they eat.
A subspecies of the eastern tiger swallowtail is even capable of feeding on the highly toxic leaves of the Salicaceae family, with a good survival rate.
Igor
Kind of like Ravioli’s Friday night TV dinners! 🤣
Part 25
Flashback – Interior – School Office – Day
Teenage Faggioli is sitting in front of the school psychologist, after causing yet another incident involving his hoe.
Psychologist
Faggioli… you know what you did.
But I’m not here to scold you.
I’m here to make you flunk— I mean, to understand why you did it.
Faggioli doesn’t answer.
Psychologist
Can you tell me why you hoed the soccer field?
Faggioli
(in a low voice)
It was necessary.
Psychologist
Necessary? In what way?
Faggioli
(still quiet, but with growing conviction)
Soccer…
is a pastime for people who are afraid of work.
People chasing a ball…
fooling themselves into thinking they’re doing something useful.
That field…
that flat, green, perfect stretch of land…
was a waste.
A sterile wasteland.
The earth… is not meant to be trampled by colorful shoes.
The earth deserves honor.
It should be hoed. Worked.
I… did what was right.
I freed the field.
I made it fertile.
Now something can grow.
Sports bear no fruit.
The hoe does.
The psychologist stares at him, steady, calm. There’s a beat of silence.
Psychologist
(in a calm but increasingly firm tone)
Faggioli, I understand that the hoe is sacred to you.
It stands for order, discipline, hard work.
But you need to understand something:
The hoe… isn’t everything.
Faggioli’s eyes widen, stunned.
Psychologist
Society doesn’t run on agriculture alone.
There are other jobs—just as useful, just as necessary.
Who designed the tractors you use to plow the land?
Who built the roads that carry your crops to market?
What about the water you use to irrigate your fields?
An engineer designed the aqueduct.
And how did he do that? By hoeing? No.
He did it by studying. With his mind. With intellectual work.
There are many jobs.
Some are manual. Some intellectual.
And each one depends on the others, like gears in a machine.
Different from each other—
But essential.
Faggioli
(shocked)
The hoe… isn’t… everything?
Faggioli is left completely disoriented.
Psychologist
I hope that sinks in.
Now you can go. I’ll see you next week.
Igor
Hoeing with your head? It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it! 🤣
Part 26
Flashback – Interior – Faggioli’s House – Evening
Faggioli is sitting in front of the TV.
He flips through channels aimlessly.
Suddenly, the school psychologist appears inside the broadcast.
Faggioli freezes in fear.
The psychologist looks at him from inside the screen.
Faggioli
How is this possible?
Psychologist
Anything is possible, Faggioli… with the power of the mind.
Faggioli
But… you… you’re talking to me?
Psychologist
Yes, Faggioli. And I’m here to tell you a secret.
Faggioli
A secret?
Psychologist
You see, Faggioli… the mind is a powerful, sharp tool.
Sharper than any hoe.
Faggioli
Sharper than a hoe? No. I don’t believe that.
Psychologist
Yes. Because your mind can bend the will of others.
True strength isn’t in the arm.
It’s in the word. In the stare.
In a well-timed silence.
And you?
You were born to use that tool.
You were born to be a psychologist.
The camera slowly zooms in…
Faggioli
But… my father doesn’t want that.
He says it’s a job for lazy people.
He says life is about discipline.
Psychologist
Lazy, huh? Let me tell you something.
Your father has a very limited view.
Those who work with their hands… serve their masters.
They work without thinking.
But those who use their minds… they have control.
And discipline… comes from control.
Faggioli
Control is above discipline?
Psychologist
Exactly. You’re starting to understand.
The farmers hoe the land… but the master gives the orders.
And you were born to be a master, not a servant.
Faggioli
A master…
Psychologist
Yes, Faggioli.
Master of your own mind… and of others who are weaker.
Faggioli
Master… how?
Psychologist
Just like me.
Like a psychologist.
Faggioli
My father… he won’t let me…
And I… I must obey him.
Psychologist
Exactly.
That’s how it works.
One commands, the other obeys.
The strong one dominates the weak.
And controls him.
Faggioli
You mean…?
Psychologist
Yes, Faggioli.
The stronger one is the one who sees farther.
And you—
You’ve just seen your future.
You are in control now.
Faggioli
Yes… control!
Just behind the door, his mother watches quietly.
She sees Faggioli speaking to the TV…
Switching voices like he’s acting out both parts of a stage play.
Tears run down her face as she tries not to make a sound.
Igor
The Faggioli house—
The only place in town where the TV worked without a remote! 🤣
Too bad it turned on by itself…
and you couldn’t change the channel! 🤣
Didn’t even need to be plugged in! 🤣
Everyone just saw their own customized hallucination! 🤣
It was basically TV on demand… but with a mental subscription! 🤣
Great programming, if you’re into talking hoes and ghost dads. 🤣
For the Faggiolis, that TV was a psychedelic trip—no remote required! 🤣
Part 27
NIGHT – FAGGIOLI’S BEDROOM – INTERIOR
Faggioli lies in bed, eyes half-shut, mind teetering between sleep and nightmare.
Suddenly, a cold, thunderous voice shatters the silence.
FATHER (booming, furious):
What have you done?
Faggioli jolts upright, gasping for breath.
FAGGIOLI (uncertain, voice trembling):
I… I signed up for psychology.
FATHER (roaring, threatening):
Psychology?!
Have you lost your mind?!
You’ve betrayed the earth.
You’ve betrayed me.
FAGGIOLI (in a weak but firm voice):
It’s to understand. To learn how to use the mind.
Because the mind is stronger… stronger than the hoe!
The FATHER materializes by the door, his dark, menacing figure filling the room.
FATHER (with a thunderous voice):
No! No! It cannot be!
Who put these heresies in your head?!
Who’s the traitor that corrupted you?
FAGGIOLI (trembling, looking him in the eyes):
The school psychologist.
The father’s face twists into a mask of hatred and disgust.
FATHER (shouting):
Idiot!
Fool!
Uproot this madness now!
Cancel that enrollment!
FAGGIOLI
I won’t do it.
Psychology… I like it.
It’s made for me.
FATHER
How dare you speak to me like that?!
Obey!
FAGGIOLI (voice cracking, but resolute):
No. Sir.
I will not obey.
An eerie silence. Faggioli’s breath is labored, as the dark presence of his father surrounds him.
FATHER (in a venomous whisper, dripping with condemnation):
Deserter.
You’ve turned your back on the hoe, the blood, the toil.
You’ve chosen the tongue.
So be it.
Because you betrayed me with your tongue… your tongue will betray you with your patients, every day of your life.
Every word will be a blade against yourself.
Your path will be marked by slips, deceit, and downfall.
The poison of your own words will break you.
The father vanishes into the cold air.
Faggioli collapses to his knees, forehead to the floor.
In his eyes, despair and defiance mix as he whispers to himself.
The TV, resting on a table, flickers on by itself.
Amidst the static, the psychologist appears on screen.
PSYCHOLOGIST
Good, Faggioli. I see we’re making progress.
Ignore him. He’s the past.
I am the future—
And I’m here to guide you and give you the proper curse—
I mean… direction.
IGOR
The price of freedom? Getting disowned by an imaginary great-grandpa. 🤣
Faggioli, the disinherited man searching for a new legacy within… and finding chickpeas. 🤣
Part 28
Flashback – Interior – Faggioli’s Bedroom – Evening
Faggioli stands in front of the mirror.
He watches himself in silence.
He slowly runs his fingers through his hair, then stops.
A few strands remain between his fingers.
He looks at them.
Lets them fall into the sink.
Faggioli (half-whisper, almost to himself):
More and more…
He leans in, examining his temples more closely.
The thinning patches look wider than a few months ago.
Faggioli:
It starts like this…
First a little…
Then a little more…
Then… the desert.
He runs his hand over his head angrily, as if trying to force the hair back into place.
Faggioli (with a trace of bitterness):
And them…
They don’t get it…
They laugh…
But they have no idea what it means…
To lose pieces of yourself…
Bit by bit…
Every day.
He stops.
Forces a half-smile.
Faggioli (with a harder tone, almost a restrained growl):
But they’ll laugh again…
We’ll see who laughs last.
He stares at his reflection.
His eyes grow colder.
More calculating.
Igor
Baldness is a sensitive issue. While Faggioli was out there pulling roots from the ground with his hoe, he was also losing the last roots on his scalp! 🤣
…seriously, when your hallucination mocks your bald spot, is that self-deprecating humor? 🤣
…when even your imaginary great-grandpa has more hair than you, it’s time to admit there’s a problem! 🤣
…Faggioli was a man of deep roots… just not in every sense! 🤣
G
Waiting Room
Paco
Some butterflies can alter aspects of their behavior or coloration depending on the environment.
Banani
What do you mean? Like they change color?
Paco
Yes. For example, the black swallowtail, when the caterpillar enters the pupa stage, detects the amount of light it receives and changes the chrysalis color accordingly!
Papaia
So it changes color based on the light?
Paco
Exactly. The zebra swallowtail (Eurytides marcellus) pupa also changes its color to blend in with the environment. In this case, even the visual texture of the surface can influence its coloration.
Banani
Like chameleons?
Paco
More or less! But there’s a key difference: chameleons change color actively, in real time. Butterflies, on the other hand, choose the pupa’s color only once—during transformation—and there’s no turning back!
Igor
Kind of like when Ravioli picks a pizza flavor. Once he says “triple cheese and salami”… there’s no going back. 🤣
Paco
The common buckeye (Junonia coenia) changes the wing pattern depending on the seasons, helping it regulate body temperature.
Banani
Oh! I know that one! It’s like the Chantilly butterfly! Always changing coats! 🤣
Papaia
Hey! Leave my sister out of it! I don’t like those jokes!
Igor
You don’t like them—and neither does your bank account! 🤣
Paco
The painted lady changes the color of its wings in response to environmental stress. Even the “eye spots” on its wings change in response to both cold and heat fluctuations. And despite having tiny brains, cabbage whites (Pieris rapae) can learn to recognize nectar-rich flowers and remember them for up to three days—even while learning to identify a second one!
Igor
Not like “someone” here who still can’t remember the telescope buttons! 🤣
Part 29
Flashback – Interior – University Hallway – Day
Students have just stepped out of class.
The air is full of that mid-morning break vibe: chatter, laughter, unzipped backpacks.
Faggioli leans against a column, his gaze cold and calculating.
Next to him are Antonio—a tall guy with a freshly styled, shiny head of hair—and Marco, the class clown.
Faggioli eyes Antonio, giving him a look somewhere between fake curiosity and sarcasm.
Faggioli (with a poisonous smile, sharp tone):
Antonio…
What happened at the barber?
Did he cut you crooked?
Or was it a failed landscaping experiment?
A few giggles ripple through the group.
Antonio runs a hand through his hair, pretends to laugh, but looks thrown off.
Marco jumps in, seizing the moment with a loud voice that carries halfway down the hall:
Marco (laughing out loud):
Come on, Faggioli…
What do you know about haircuts?
For you, a barber is optional…
You don’t even have hair!
Laughter erupts.
Someone slaps a desk.
Antonio laughs it off, relieved.
On the other side of the hallway, side comments begin to fly.
Lightly spoken, but sharp as razor blades.
Student 1
Well, poor guy… it’s not his fault.
Student 2
Yeah, but maybe he shouldn’t have made that crack about the barber.
Student 3
He was asking for it, honestly.
Student 4
Marco’s right. All Faggioli’s missing is some head polish.
Female student (ironically, under her breath):
Come on, it’s not his fault he started going bald at sixteen…
Student 3 (more serious, dry tone):
Yeah, but… if you can’t laugh at yourself, you’re done for.
Student 1 (softly, smiling):
Still, Faggioli was right. That barber didn’t do a great job.
Student 2
Sure—but not worse than how Faggioli looks.
Faggioli stands motionless.
A tight smile on his lips.
But his eyes… his eyes are ice.
He says nothing.
Doesn’t react.
Not yet.
He simply stares at Marco.
In silence.
With unsettling calm.
Igor
Can someone explain this?
Why does hair always fall out on the people with no sense of humor? 🤣
Part 30
Flashback – Interior – Faggioli’s Bathroom – Evening
Faggioli stands in front of the bathroom mirror.
He runs his fingers over his scalp again and again, inspecting the receding hairline growing more obvious each day.
He stops.
Stares at his reflection.
Suddenly… his father’s voice (imaginary), sharp and commanding, echoes in his head.
Father
(harsh, imperious):
Look at yourself…
You can’t even stand up to a kid…
And look at that hair—
Or rather… that misery!
Faggioli swallows hard, lowers his gaze.
Father
(even sharper, almost scornful):
I… I had a full head of hair at your age!
Full!
Not this barren wasteland!
Faggioli grips the sink tightly, his knuckles turning white.
Faggioli (softly, like a scolded child):
I… I couldn’t do it…
Father’s voice (violent, almost growling):
Enough with the excuses!
Shame isn’t washed away with tears.
If you don’t react now…
You’ll never react.
Faggioli remains still.
Eyes glassy.
But his jaw clenches.
Father’s voice (cold, commanding):
I order you…
Tomorrow…
You go back there.
And you fight back.
Faggioli raises his gaze.
In the mirror…
For a split second…
It’s as if his father is looking back at him—
Thick hair, blazing eyes.
Igor
According to his dead great-grandpa, Faggioli losing hair was his own fault! 🤣
…He should’ve held on to it with mind power! 🤣
…Too bad the thoughts scared the hair away! 🤣
…Let’s be honest, who wants to live inside Faggioli’s head all day? 🤣
…A maze of trauma, hoes, and homeowner regulations! 🤣
Part 31
Flashback – FAGGIOLI’S HOUSE – NIGHT
Faggioli is still in the bathroom, hands gripping the sink. He breathes heavily.
Then, as if trying to distract himself, he walks out and throws himself onto the couch. He turns on the TV.
ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. Channels flick past. Commercials. A black-and-white movie. A documentary.
Then… the screen freezes.
The school psychologist appears. But it’s not a show. It’s as if he’s staring straight into Faggioli’s eyes.
Psychologist (calm, deep, cutting tone):
You’ve suffered.
I know.
But blind rage won’t help you.
Strength… lies in the mind.
Faggioli (staring at the screen, hypnotized):
I…
I can’t do it…
Psychologist (gently smiling):
Yes, you can.
But you need strategy.
You need to observe.
The camera slowly closes in on Faggioli’s face, lit only by the TV glow.
Psychologist (continuing):
Watch for their flaws.
Their weaknesses.
The cracks in their armor.
Everyone has them.
Everyone.
Faggioli (barely audible):
Even Marco?
Psychologist:
Especially Marco.
Find his weak point.
Show him who’s in charge.
Faggioli nods slowly, silently.
Psychologist:
That’s your moment.
You don’t need to shout.
You don’t need revenge…
You need control.
A symbolic image fades in on the screen: a hand clutching puppet strings.
Psychologist (softly):
Control is discipline.
It’s order.
It’s power.
And you… you were born for this.
To lead. Not to bow.
Igor (off-screen):
Faggioli was searching for his enemies’ weak spots…
but all he kept finding were hairs on his pillow.
Maybe, sometimes, the real enemy… is within. 🤣
Part 32
Flashback. University Lecture Hall. Morning.
The classroom is packed.
Students sit in anticipation—some peeking at notes, others pretending to pay attention.
On the right side, Faggioli sits silently.
His gaze locked on Marco, who approaches the front of the room.
Marco holds some crumpled sheets.
He adjusts his T-shirt.
Runs a hand through his hair, as he always does when he’s nervous.
Professor:
Go ahead, Marco… it’s your turn. Five minutes. You may begin.
Marco inhales.
He starts to speak… but his voice catches in his throat.
Marco (stammering, instantly blushing):
G-g-good morning… I… today I wanted to… um…
Someone at the back of the room starts to snicker.
Marco lowers his eyes.
His hands tremble.
His face grows red—right up to his ears.
He stops.
For at least ten seconds, total silence.
Someone clears their throat awkwardly.
Faggioli watches it all.
Motionless.
Hands folded.
Eyes narrowed, focused.
Faggioli (internal thought, icy):
“So…
There it is.
The weak spot…”
Marco takes a deep breath, grips the papers tightly and…
…slowly regains control.
Marco (voice shaky but steadier):
…And so… in conclusion…
we can say that non-verbal communication… is important…
to… to… convey emotions…
Polite applause.
Marco returns to his seat—still flushed, but relieved.
Faggioli watches him.
Serious.
Silent.
But in his mind…
something is already taking shape.
Igor
What was taking shape in Faggioli’s mind?
Well, it definitely wasn’t a new hairstyle! 🤣
H
Waiting Room.
Paco
And do you know what else is fascinating about butterflies?
Banani
What?
Paco
Migration.
Papaia
I’ve heard about that in some documentary.
Paco
Yes, because it’s well known in some butterflies like monarchs, but they’re far from the only ones. Painted ladies also undergo mass migrations, using the sun’s position as a compass to navigate.
Ravioli
Really? I actually didn’t know that!
Paco
Butterflies are also somehow able to take advantage of wind currents to migrate more efficiently.
Papaia
Kind of like birds when they glide.
Paco
Exactly! Only butterflies are much lighter and more delicate, so they have to be even more careful—if they catch the wrong current, they get thrown off course… or worse!
Banani
Yeah, but they don’t go very far!
Paco
On the contrary. Some of these migrations can cover almost 2,500 miles in a single generation—by a butterfly smaller than a child’s hand!
Even some populations of the cabbage white (Pieris rapae) migrate. They mostly travel with their backs to the sun, sometimes crossing mountain ranges regularly, from spring to autumn.
Ravioli
That’s impressive!
Paco
More than that! It’s divine design!
Part 33
Flashback. Interior – University courtyard – Afternoon.
Two or three hours have passed since the presentation.
The students are outside, gathered in a circle, chatting, laughing, eating snacks.
Marco, now relaxed, laughs with a small group of friends.
He feels confident.
The embarrassment from the morning is already forgotten by everyone.
Faggioli is sitting on a low wall nearby.
He listens silently.
His eyes downcast.
His hands clasped.
Friend 1
If there’s one subject I hate, it’s geography.
Friend 2
I agree. I don’t know why they added that exam to a psychology course.
Friend 1
By the way, can I borrow your notes from Friday?
Friend 2
Which ones? The ones on desertification?
Friend 1
Yes, exactly those.
Marco
You don’t need the notes.
Friend 1
Oh no? Why not?
Marco
If you want to study desertification, just take a look at Faggioli’s bald spot!
Burst of laughter.
Someone doubles over.
Others make stadium chants.
Faggioli slowly lifts his gaze.
For a moment, his lips tremble.
Then…
The pressure…
The accumulated humiliation…
The inner voice…
Father’s voice (in his head, harsh and dry):
NOW!
React!
NOW!
Faggioli jumps up suddenly.
Takes two steps toward the group.
Faggioli (trying to speak in a normal voice… but it comes out in a very high falsetto):
Marco the clown. Haha!
Put him on the podium. That guy really makes us laugh! When he acts like a trembling puppy! Haha!
Silence.
Then…
Laughter.
Even louder.
Someone covers their face from laughing so hard.
Others mimic Marco’s trembling.
Marco stands frozen.
Hit in his weakest spot.
Blushes again.
Marco (trying to fight back):
Ah… yeah? And who are you? Faggioli, or one of the Chipmans?
Even more laughter.
But Faggioli doesn’t stop.
With the same falsetto voice, even sharper:
Faggioli:
Faggioli talks like a squirrel…
Marco… stutters like an old modem!
Haha! Loser! Haha!
(The laughter becomes a roar.
Someone starts banging their hands on the table.
A couple of students shout: “Well done, Faggioli!”)
Marco shakes his head, grabs his stuff, and walks away embarrassed.
Faggioli stays there, chest rising and falling, still tense.
The falsetto voice…
still lingering.
But in his eyes…
For the first time…
a spark of satisfaction.
Igor (smiling):
Faggioli had discovered a new side of himself… the one capable of making bullies tremble… and shattering glasses with a well-placed B flat! 🤣
Part 34
Flashback – Faggioli’s Room – Night.
The room is dark, lit only by the flickering light of the turned-on TV.
Faggioli is sitting on the edge of the bed, still dressed, his gaze fixed on the screen.
A comedy show is on TV.
A ventriloquist performs on stage with a puppet.
Sharp jokes, sarcasm…
The audience in the hall laughs uproariously.
Faggioli watches silently.
His gaze becomes more focused.
The ventriloquist makes the puppet speak:
Puppet (on TV):
I’m not the one saying these things…
He’s the one moving my mouth!
The audience bursts into laughter.
Faggioli squints.
He lowers his gaze.
Next to the bed, an old gray sock, worn out and abandoned for days.
He grabs it.
Turns it over in his hands.
Faggioli (whispering, almost a murmur):
Why not…
He slowly starts putting his hand inside it.
Moves it awkwardly a bit.
Then tightens the puppet’s mouth…
And with a hoarse voice, improvises…
Faggioli (making the sock talk, with a raspy tone):
Hey, bald guy…
Ready to show who’s boss around here?
Faggioli freezes.
For a moment he seems scared…
Then he smiles.
Faggioli (looking at the sock, with a pleased grin):
Welcome… Tony.
Igor
Faggioli recycled an old sock used for a week to create Tony.
At this point, he didn’t even need to speak to scare off bullies — just pull out the sock! 🤣
Part 35
Flashback – Interior – Faggioli’s Living Room – Evening
The room is dimly lit.
Faggioli, 16 years old, sits alone on the couch.
The TV is broadcasting a live billiards tournament.
The players wear elegant suits: crisp white shirts, bow ties, steady hands like scalpels.
Soft lighting, silent audience.
Every shot is calculated to the millimeter.
Every mistake… a dishonor.
Faggioli watches…
Hypnotized.
The camera focuses on a player who misses by a few millimeters…
He shakes his head in self-criticism.
Faggioli’s eyes light up.
His gaze grows more intense.
Father’s voice (in his head, deep and scornful):
Precision…
Discipline…
Punishment…
That’s how a man is made…
Every mistake… must be paid for!
Faggioli stands up, runs to his room, rummages in a drawer… finds an old wooden cue…
But it’s not enough.
Faggioli (panting, talking to himself):
No…
It’s not enough…
I need… the cue…
The real cue.
Flashback – Next day – Sporting goods store
Faggioli stands in front of a rack full of billiard cues.
He looks at them all.
Chooses one…
Long… heavy… black…
The sternest there is.
Shop assistant (with a polite smile):
Excellent choice! A Brunswick cue, made of solid Canadian ash. Elite model from ’58.
147 centimeters. Weight: 540 grams.
Do you play often?
Faggioli
It’s not a game.
It’s a tool.
Used to strike down mistakes… before they become habits.
The assistant stays silent, confused.
Faggioli pays and leaves.
Igor
Faggioli interested in billiards?
No, the doctor prescribed it to him… 🤣
…an ancient pharaoh… 🤣
…in his imagination! 🤣
I
Waiting room.
Paco
Many butterflies require specialized host plants for their larvae. The most obvious example is the monarch butterfly, but there are others. For the caterpillars to survive, the mother butterfly must be able to identify the right place to lay her eggs. Some species do this by following substances released by plants, called volatiles.
Banani
So these chemicals act as olfactory signals? Basically, the butterfly “sniffs” the environment to choose the best site?
Paco
Exactly, Banani. These volatile compounds are like a real “chemical code” that the butterfly interprets to find the right plant. Thanks to this system, it can avoid plants that are unsuitable or dangerous for its caterpillars.
Papaia
But how does such a small brain have a sense of smell?
Paco
Great question, Papaia! Even though butterfly brains are small, their sensory system is incredibly specialized. They have very sensitive olfactory receptors on their antennae that can detect tiny amounts of volatile molecules in the air.
Banani
So it’s not so much about having a “big brain” as having the “right tools” to perceive smells?
Paco
Exactly. It’s a combination of highly specific receptors and efficient neural circuits that allows butterflies to quickly recognize and respond to chemical signals in the environment, even with a nervous system simpler than mammals.
Ravioli
Design once again!
Part 36
Flashback – Faggioli’s room – Night.
Faggioli stands in front of the mirror.
The cue rests on the edge of the desk.
He watches his own hands.
Father’s voice (in his head, sharp as a snap):
Every mistake…
Is paid for like this!
Faggioli grabs the cue.
He hits his knuckles.
Makes a grimace of pain.
But makes no sound.
Then he straightens up.
Looks at the cue as if it were a relic.
Faggioli (whispering):
The cue…
Of discipline…
Zoom on Faggioli’s face…
Staring, empty gaze…
But… satisfied.
Igor (with a sly smile):
Actually, it’s not what it seems. Faggioli was simply trying a new way to warm up his hands… in winter!🤣
He wanted to warm his hands… too bad it was summer!🤣
Part 38
Flashback – Faggioli’s room – Late afternoon
The room is a temple of order.
Every book aligned, every shirt folded with surgical precision.
Faggioli is kneeling, polishing the edges of the mirror.
He stands up.
Adjusts a vase with measured movements…
But accidentally bumps the mirror with his elbow.
CRASH!
The glass shatters into a thousand pieces.
For a moment… total silence.
Faggioli freezes.
His hands tremble.
Father’s voice (in his head, like thunder):
INCOMPETENT!
YOU ARE A DISGRACE!
Faggioli grits his teeth.
Immediately kneels on the chickpeas, already ready on the floor nearby.
Grabs the billiard cue…
Two, three knocks on his knuckles.
Harder than usual.
But this time…
Something different happens.
Faggioli’s breathing grows more labored.
His gaze drifts into emptiness.
His pupils dilate.
Father
ENOUGH WHINING!
GET UP…
DRESS LIKE A MAN…
Faggioli gets up.
Heads to the wardrobe.
Opens an old box at the back.
Inside… his great-grandfather’s clothes… the ones Faggioli had hidden years before:
White shirt, rough wool trousers, dark vest…
With mechanical gestures… he puts them on.
Looks at himself in the broken mirror…
Fixes his hair, as much as he has left…
Straightens his back.
Faggioli (impersonating the father)
Tonight…
We play…
Billiards.
Igor
Tonight we play billiards? Before or after the chickpeas?🤣
…Can Tony play too?🤣
…How did the game work? Did they split into teams? Like Faggioli and Tony against the father and the psychologist?🤣
Part 39
Flashback – Faggioli’s room – Next morning.
The alarm rings.
Faggioli wakes up in his bed.
Dressed normally.
As if nothing had happened.
He runs a hand over his face…
Notices some scratches on his knuckles.
He looks at the floor…
Still some pieces of broken mirror scattered here and there.
Faggioli
Strange…
My hands hurt…
And… why do I smell like smoke?
He turns on the radio to the local station:
Announcer
“…and the witnesses are still in disbelief, after a mysterious man, dressed in period clothes, crushed everyone at table number 3 of the old Bar Arsenic…”
Faggioli pales.
Igor
Who was the mysterious man?
Actually, Faggioli didn’t care about that at all!
What scared him was the number 3!🤣
J
Waiting room.
Paco
The black swallowtail can detect the volatile compounds of its host plant as soon as it starts flying, and with experience it gets better at pinpointing where these signals come from.
Banani
So it’s kind of like it learns to “smell” better as it gets older?
Paco
Exactly, Banani. Monarch butterflies do something similar too—they follow the volatiles of milkweed to find the best places to lay their eggs.
Papaia
Is it like when a dog follows a scent trail?
Paco
Yes, that’s a good comparison. For example, female common buckeyes recognize a compound called iridoid glycoside in plants and choose to lay their eggs where there’s more of it, because it’s better for the caterpillars.
Banani
And what about cabbage whites? Can they do the same?
Paco
Yes, cabbage whites use volatiles to find their preferred plants. Interestingly, they can even be attracted to less ideal plants if those plants are treated with volatiles from the ideal ones.
Papaia
So these chemical signals are like a kind of “language” that butterflies understand to survive?
Paco
Exactly, Papaia. Without this language, butterflies risk choosing the wrong plants and jeopardizing their larvae’s survival.
Part 40
Flashback. Faggioli’s apartment. Evening.
Faggioli is sitting at the table, studying an old psychology manual.
He tries to concentrate… but an unbearable noise comes from the neighbor’s TV on the adjacent wall.
Neighbor’s TV voice (loud and annoying):
Welcome to “Truth Live”!
Today we talk about gender equality… and the incredible story of a woman… plumber!
Faggioli closes his eyes.
The veins in his neck tense.
Faggioli (whispering through clenched teeth):
Breathe… count to ten… none of your business… none of your business…
The TV keeps going.
TV guest:
…A woman who defies stereotypes! We’ll see her in action with wrenches and clogged pipes!
Silence. Then…
Father’s voice (sharp, inside Faggioli’s head, like a billiard cue striking the table):
A woman… plumber?!
SHAME!
Women should knit socks!
Not fiddle with pipes!
Faggioli springs up like a coil.
He goes to the wardrobe. Dresses like his father.
Grabs the hoe…
Knuckles clenched… eyes empty and icy.
Faggioli (in a hard voice, impersonating his father):
Now I’ll teach her…
What a man’s job is!
Igor
Women should knit socks and not mess with pipes? Wrong, Faggioli. Actually, crochet hooks are pipes with points!🤣
Part 41
Flashback – Interior – Neighbor’s house
The neighbor is laughing alone on the couch, munching on chips.
The TV is at full volume.
TV voice:
…And today our plumber will show us how to replace a gasket!
BOOM!
The door suddenly bursts open.
Faggioli enters, panting…
Hoe in hand.
Neighbor (startled, jumping up):
Hey! What the heck is he doing?!
Faggioli (in his father’s voice, pointing the hoe at the TV):
Women should knit socks!!!
CRASH!
With a sharp strike, he smashes the television.
The neighbor recoils… shocked.
Without saying another word, Faggioli picks up the pieces of the TV…
Puts them in an old plastic bag…
Leaves through the door…
Igor (smiling):
If he could choose the punishment, the neighbor would have preferred that instead of smashing it, Faggioli put the device… on the chickpeas!🤣
Part 42
Flashback – Condominium courtyard
Faggioli, dressed like his great-grandfather, is digging a hole like a prisoner in chains.
He’s sweating… breathing hard…
But he doesn’t stop.
He throws the TV remains into the pit…
Covers everything with soil.
Levels the ground with obsessive precision.
Faggioli
(standing at attention):
End of transmission.
The neighbor, still holding his phone, watches the scene from the window.
Neighbor
(trembling):
Yes… hello… police…
Urgent…
My neighbor…
Yes… with a hoe… he destroyed the TV… and now… now he buried it!
Igor
…Faggioli broke the neighbor’s TV, but at least he gave it a proper funeral!🤣
…Faggioli made a mistake burying the TV. What if it rained and a tree grew?🤣
…Faggioli and the TV. Love, hate and…
…educational nighttime hallucinations broadcast in 4K.🤣
With special guests: the father, the great-grandfather, and Tony the sock.🤣
K
Waiting room.
Ravioli
Wow! I’m amazed by the abilities of butterflies!
Paco
Realize one thing, Ravioli.
Only the almighty Creator of the universe could make something so beautiful and so brilliantly functional.
Papaia
I agree. Blind chance can’t produce these results, not even in billions of years of attempts!
Paco
As we can see, butterflies have some very unique traits that allow them to survive and even thrive in our fallen world. Their ability to regulate body temperature, mimic poisonous butterflies, modify colors and behaviors at will, identify host plants by smell, and migrate long distances relying completely on the position of the sun shouts God’s design.
Papaia
How can a tiny insect, with a brain the size of a pinhead, know how to use the sun as a compass?
Banani
Something like that is way beyond the ability of a human engineer and even further from what natural processes could achieve.
Paco
Only the almighty Creator of the universe could make something so beautiful and so brilliantly functional.
Part 44
Flashback – Psychiatric hospital corridor – Day.
Faggioli is being dragged down the corridor by two nurses.
He’s wearing a straitjacket.
His gaze fixed straight ahead… a disturbing smile on his lips…
From the pocket of his jacket, which one of the nurses holds folded under his arm…
Tony the Sock, all dirty with soil, sticks out.
In a small room nearby, two psychiatrists watch him through the glass.
They speak to each other in low, concerned tones.
Psychiatrist 1
(scanning the medical file):
Destruction of private property…
Multiple verbal assaults…
Dissociative crises…
Ritual self-harm…
Extended conversations… with a sock…
Psychiatrist 2
(nodding, with a half-incredulous smile):
Not to mention the compulsive obsession with… discipline…
Punishments with chickpeas… hitting hands with a cue stick…
And that mania for impersonating the dead father…
Assistant
Actually, he’s not impersonating the father, but the great-grandfather.
Psychiatrist 1
Interesting, a repression with substitution of the paternal figure.
Igor
Faggioli ends up in the asylum. While they lock him up, he doesn’t object. Alfonso, instead, complains to the nurses: a single cell? Hey, look, there are four of us in here!🤣
… three and a half… with Tony the Sock!🤣
Part 45
Flashback – Psychiatric hospital – Padded cell. Minutes later.
The nurses open the door.
Faggioli is gently pushed inside.
Nurse 1
(to Faggioli):
You’ll feel better here for a while!
The door closes with a metallic CLANG.
Faggioli sits on the floor, his gaze distant…
But with a smile…
Murmuring something to Tony the Sock, hidden inside his straitjacket…
Faggioli (quietly, whispering to Tony):
Yes, but not for long…
Right, Tony?
Tony
Not for long. Morons… Ahahah!
Igor
Faggioli isn’t crazy… he’s just consistent to the end.🤣
…Tony the Sock asked for a lawyer. Woolen, of course.🤣
…The cell is small, but Alfonso’s ego fills the whole ceiling.🤣
…That time in the asylum they tried to cure Faggioli… but he diagnosed them instead.🤣
…Since they washed him, Tony won’t talk anymore. After the wash, he lost the thread of the conversation.🤣
…No one knows if Faggioli ever left the asylum… or if he founded it himself.🤣