Addio zio Tom Page #8

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That's enough, let's go. I don't have

time to waste. I'm the General.

Open up!

Come on, keep it up.

You clown, dance, move it!

Go on, dance.

No, no, no.

Not like that, not like that, beasts,

Like this!

I'll show you.

Like this, not with your hips.

Move your ass!

Open up, it's me.

Oh, the Europeans. What an honor!

I'm in a state, I'm afraid.

Look at my hands.

Excuse the mess, but you should see

in what state they deliver them.

Come on, take your places.

I go crazy getting them ready.

They're in such demand that they

rip them out of my hands

even before they're ready.

I'm sorry, I don't have much time.

I'm so busy. Come on, show yourselves

off to the gentlemen. Take a look.

Not bad, eh? Try to guess the prices.

$500, $1 ,000, $1 ,500?

No, $3,000, my dear gentlemen.

Hewlett writes:

''Pairs of male twins at a certain point

enjoyed a moment of great popularity,

also because of

an ugly habit that became a fad.

But due to the extreme rarity

of this particular merchandise,

as there were many orders,

there were many tricksters.''

Tricksters? What are you talking about?

This is a reputable establishment,

renowned throughout the south.

Look at this pair, a rarity.

- You f*ggot!

- Our clients can rest assured.

These are two authentic Kelloggs.

Look, they're signed.

Quiet. Open up, it's me,

the General.

Come in, but no questions.

These should be in a museum.

They're fit for a king.

Base price, $1 5,000.

- What's so special about him?

- He's got three of them!

One, two, three.

Three, three, three!

Three, he has three, three!

This one had six, including one

that broke and is now being repaired.

They were all sold

to six different masters,

and the mother killed herself

out of desperation.

This is the most

important exhibit in the museum.

In the wax museum of New Orleans,

among many statues of slaves in chains

and of evil masters, the group

that today fascinates the tourists

is the group of Madame La Laurie,

the most famous sadist of all time.

We know that she was the wife

of a doctor,

that she was a member

of the Creole high society in Louisiana,

and that she had a good reputation

until the day when the firemen,

who responded to a fire alarm,

they went into the attic and found all

the evidence that enabled Judge Caldwell

a nearly exact reconstruction

of how the respectable lady

and her faithful helper, Caesar,

enjoyed their leisure time.

Come.

Caesar, Caesar, you've done it again.

She died on me.

Caesar, you really go too far.

It's the third girl in a week.

Don't be so upset.

I'll buy you another.

But look at my partner, my dear,

sweet playmate.

The lovely countess.

She knows how to wait,

how to postpone the divine

moment of the first drop of blood.

Pleasure can wait, there's no hurry.

We've given them opium.

And now they're sleeping.

They've been sleeping for centuries.

It's all ours, all we have to do

is reach out.

We can take our pleasure quickly,

consuming it quickly, like Caesar does,

or we can take it a little at a time,

allowing them to survive

over a long, drawn-out, exhausting wait,

tormented by desire, fed by her fear.

What about you?

Aren't you afraid?

No, you're not afraid,

my brave little cock.

But don't worry, fear will come later,

when the pliers will bite you

right there, where you now want me.

In your country, when a Negro

dares to want a white woman,

isn't this what you do to him?

I don't know who you are,

nor where you come from,

but don't you think the time I live in

is marvelous?

All this lovely flesh is mine.

This body is mine.

I can buy 1 0, 1 00, 1 ,000 of them,

if I want to.

Males, females,

little boys, little girls.

I can consume them, corrupt them,

enjoy them, destroy them.

What are you waiting for, idiots?

Come on, help yourselves.

When will you ever have

another chance like this?

In New Orleans such chances

were never lacking.

If a gentleman received an invitation

to visit a friend who lived in the city

while the wife and children were

on vacation,

in addition to good food

and clean linen,

he could expect a comely Negress

to share his bed at night.

A refusal would insult the host.

This was just part of the rules

of hospitality,

for which the Mammy was responsible.

Get in line.

You, let me see your hands.

Your nails are like a pig's nails.

Go on, get washed up!

You, come here.

Let me smell you.

You smell like the goats in the barn.

Go, and wash with ashes.

You, open your mouth

and let me smell your breath.

You smell of garlic. Chew this,

it'll take away the stench of a hog.

You're usually clean. You hardly

smell at all. Good filly.

You, turn around.

You haven't been f***ing, have you?

Spread your legs!

Sleeping with a black slave

every night was,

for all the white males of the house

fathers, sons and guests, a good hygienic

practice, like brushing your teeth.

As a pretext

they said it was healthy.

For the sons, it was supposed to be

a remedy for teenage acne.

And it was good for the husbands,

as the puritanical mores of the times

limited their access to their wives.

But, aside from health considerations,

let's find out how these slave girls

were in bed.

Just like the first cigar.

At first there's a horrible stench,

and you feel nauseous.

But by the third time you're hooked.

Harder on my back,

you know I like it.

Her mother was my first cigar.

I smoked her when I was ten.

I was terrified my father

would catch me in the act.

But when I realized that my father,

too, smoked,

well, I stopped being afraid,

and started to enjoy it.

Perhaps it's that gamy smell they have,

but I like them more than white ones.

If I can catch one,

I'll try to get her into bed.

But where will I find a white woman

around here?

Besides, my father says

it's not worth it.

They smell too, but like corpses.

He says they're bad for your health.

He's been bedding Negresses for

7 0 years, and he hasn't missed a beat.

He likes them big, especially

in the tit department.

Look at this merchandise.

Not bad, eh?

If you ignore them, you're playing

right into their hand.

You destroy them,

one night at a time.

At my age, it's starting to get

rather trying.

But with the help of divine

providence, and oysters,

I can still hold my own.

Mammy! Mammy!

Where are you, you black whore?

Where are you, Mammy?

- I'm coming, I'm coming.

- Mammy!

What's the matter, master?

Why are you angry?

You idiot. You have the gall to ask

why I'm angry, you a**hole!

Did you, or did you not rip me off

by sending this idiot to my room?

Don't talk like that, master.

I've never ripped anyone off.

- She looks like a beautiful lover.

- What do I care at my age for beauty?

This filly is a virgin.

What do you expect me to do

with a virgin at my age, you idiot?

Take her back.

Don't talk like that, master.

Please, don't get mad. Wait.

I'll send you another filly,

one who's been broken in.

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