“But Salvatore,” said Nino, “I was only joking.” “Some joke,” growled Salvatore. “Very funny, I don't think!”
It then emerged that Nino had only been paying Salvatore back for another joke.
He'd woken up one morning to find some words daubed on the tavern door in bright red paint. They read: THIS INN IS OUT.
Nino had found that just as unamusing. The two of them spent some time wrangling over whose had been the better joke.
Then, after working themselves up into a lather again, they broke off. Momo was staring at them wide-eyed.
Neither man quite knew how to interpret her gaze. Was she secretly laughing at them, or was she sad?
Although her expression gave no clue, they suddenly seemed to see themselves mirrored in her eyes and began to feel sheepish.
“Okay,” said Salvatore, “maybe I shouldn't have painted those words on your door, Nino,”
“but I wouldn't have done it if you hadn't refused to serve me so much as a single glass of wine.”
“That was against the law, as you know full well. I've always paid up, and you'd no call to treat me that way.”
“Oh, hadn't I just!” Nino retorted. “What about the St Anthony business? Ah, that's floored you, hasn't it!”
“You cheated me right, left and centre, and I wasn't going to take it lying down.”
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