Wednesday, 4 March 2015

The Epiphany Bingo

The "Tombola della Befana", the Epiphany Bingo, is a consolidated tradition amongst that group of friends of mine collected under the somehow sarcastic name of "lovelt creatures".
Tradition would call for the Epiphany Bingo to take place on Epiphany Day, but we're quite anarchic, which is a snob way to say: we're not even able to sort out our socks drawer, let alone organize to meet, eat and play bingo on a specific day.

What we need to do is to bring in prizes for the bingo: they can be really good (like bottle of wines, good food, etc) or terribly nasty recycled "thing". After playing we have a little barter section: you try to get the price you want and normally you need to take in also one of those "thing" too. The nasty part is that you can't throw away the nasty thing, but you can put it back in the bingo after 2 years.

Some years ago I wanted a set of tea towel. I still have them and use them but if I think about it now, the only reason I wanted them is that I was gloriously drunk. In order to get the tea towel I also had to take in a plaster duck; at the time, I was still living in the London, perfect excuse to leave the duck at my mom's place. My mum, being the completely nut artist she is, painted the duck and then covered it with a layer of gloss paint: the most striking part of it were the eyes. If a duck ever tried a bad acid trip, it would look just like that painted duck. The duck is not at my mom's place: not because I am back in Italy but because it's been won by Angela and she couldn't find anybody so crazy or drunk (or both) to swap it for anything. I think it'll be eligible for bingo next year and I'm already quite worried.

This year I won another of the "historic" prizes. Words cannot describe it. Really, when you see it with your own eyes, it does leave you speechless:

Even this picture is not enough, because sound is missing. This statue is abso-fucking-lutely horrifying and it also produces a music worth of The Shining or Deep Red.
Needless to say, nobody wanted to swap it for anything. So I brought it back home, left it in a corner with the plan of hiding it in the basement soon. The morning after I took the train back to Milan and l forgot about it, until my dad reminded me about it while chatting on FaceTime.

He wanted to know about the statue and so he did what he normally does: he had my mum asking questions. I told them what happened at the bingo and that I was going to bring it down to the basement next time I'd be in Torino.
That's the moment he jumped in:

"No worry, I'll take it"
"You haven't got the keys of the basement"
" No, I take it for myself."
"It'll do great in the nativity scene next December"
"Next to the Cometa Dancing?"

And that's the story of how the lovely creatures lost one of their traditional presents and how my family acquired an extra bit for the nativity scene, at least until my mother doesn't hear it playing for more than 10 minutes.

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