#003 - If the shirt fits (CD)
Apr 11, 2020 2:24:55 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 2 more like this
Post by Cross Recoba on Apr 11, 2020 2:24:55 GMT -5
OOC Note: These were published originally as CD pieces elsewhere, their inclusion is to give more background to the character and should not count towards scoring of any kind. Futher background can be found here.
An assortment of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles toys were strewn across the floor, the patchwork superglued hand of Donatello one of the many clues that the Heroes in a Half-Shell’s glory days were far behind them. The familiar tune of Bananas in Pajamas fights to be heard alongside ‘It’s All Coming Back to Me Now’ by Celine Dion that resounds out from the kitchen that adjoins the lounge.QA
The blond-haired toddler holds a Shredder action figure that misses his left arm and momentarily focuses on the television show two feet from his face. His attention is torn away from the anthromorphic fruit by a familiar voice.
“Santino! Get away from the screen! You’ll end up with square eyes!” Sophia’s voice was a tone above the reasonable, her ‘miracle baby’ had been the apple of her eye since his birth.
“Can you get him to turn it off? Even I’ve seen this episode four times, mom!” Sophia’s eldest, Turi, raised an eyebrow over the cover of his textbook.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?”
“Do you know how hard it is to study for SATs when you effectively work a full-time job? Saint Cross will learn, or not…” Sophia ignored the indignant tone.
“Just think about how your work ethic will put you above all the American kids, they’re so pampered - their first day out there will be a wake-up call!” Sophia meant well, more importantly - Pippi couldn’t tell you whether his income would be mid-five figures or low six-figures for any one year.
Turi skulked out of the room and upstairs.
“Turi doesn’t like me, does he, Mom?” Santino’s words stung, the truth was often like that.
Whilst his sister, Sophia, had taken on the mantle of elder sister with aplomb, Turi saw the focus on his education drift to Santino.
“He’s just focusing on his studies, we want the best for you all - it’s why we came here from the old country…” her voice trailed off as she saw the toddler look befuddled.
Santino smiled as he ran past her and grabbed the miniature soccer ball that had become his best friend in the last few weeks.
The three-year old held the ball under his arm like the players his father had shown him hold it before the game. He got no more than five feet away from the back door to the garden before it sprung open.
“Just the boy I wanted to see!” Cross stopped in his tracks as he looked up at his father.
Pippi held a package in his hand, the child tried to make out the words but they were beyond his comprehension. His gaze was full of wonderment, Sophia knew this as she looked on from afar. She dotes on him but he idolized his father.
Pippi bent down and handed the package to his youngest.
“This will be the first of many. Go on, open it up.”
The height of a three-year old was on a par with that of a dog and their grace at opening presents was on a similar level. Santino tore at the package, struggling with the tape that held it together.
“Look for the seams, they’re the easiest.” Pippi had been in the country for nearly twenty years and yet he still used the wrong word regularly.
Cross pulled a pink Kappa-made football shirt out of the package.
“That is the team of Sicily, Santino. When I was your age, my father took me to a game like his father took him. I can’t take you now but you can still follow from here.”
From his jacket pocket he held a copy of La Gazzetta dello Sport. He was intent on his children retaining the Sicilian tongue and while Turi found the general news the easiest and Sophia had Vogue Italia, Cross would start with sports.
Santino looked down at the shirt as a smile formed on his face.
“Can I wear it?”
Pippi looked down at his son as he mentally planned his child’s progression to being the first American-Italian Soccer star.
An assortment of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles toys were strewn across the floor, the patchwork superglued hand of Donatello one of the many clues that the Heroes in a Half-Shell’s glory days were far behind them. The familiar tune of Bananas in Pajamas fights to be heard alongside ‘It’s All Coming Back to Me Now’ by Celine Dion that resounds out from the kitchen that adjoins the lounge.QA
The blond-haired toddler holds a Shredder action figure that misses his left arm and momentarily focuses on the television show two feet from his face. His attention is torn away from the anthromorphic fruit by a familiar voice.
“Santino! Get away from the screen! You’ll end up with square eyes!” Sophia’s voice was a tone above the reasonable, her ‘miracle baby’ had been the apple of her eye since his birth.
“Can you get him to turn it off? Even I’ve seen this episode four times, mom!” Sophia’s eldest, Turi, raised an eyebrow over the cover of his textbook.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?”
“Do you know how hard it is to study for SATs when you effectively work a full-time job? Saint Cross will learn, or not…” Sophia ignored the indignant tone.
“Just think about how your work ethic will put you above all the American kids, they’re so pampered - their first day out there will be a wake-up call!” Sophia meant well, more importantly - Pippi couldn’t tell you whether his income would be mid-five figures or low six-figures for any one year.
Turi skulked out of the room and upstairs.
“Turi doesn’t like me, does he, Mom?” Santino’s words stung, the truth was often like that.
Whilst his sister, Sophia, had taken on the mantle of elder sister with aplomb, Turi saw the focus on his education drift to Santino.
“He’s just focusing on his studies, we want the best for you all - it’s why we came here from the old country…” her voice trailed off as she saw the toddler look befuddled.
Santino smiled as he ran past her and grabbed the miniature soccer ball that had become his best friend in the last few weeks.
The three-year old held the ball under his arm like the players his father had shown him hold it before the game. He got no more than five feet away from the back door to the garden before it sprung open.
“Just the boy I wanted to see!” Cross stopped in his tracks as he looked up at his father.
Pippi held a package in his hand, the child tried to make out the words but they were beyond his comprehension. His gaze was full of wonderment, Sophia knew this as she looked on from afar. She dotes on him but he idolized his father.
Pippi bent down and handed the package to his youngest.
“This will be the first of many. Go on, open it up.”
The height of a three-year old was on a par with that of a dog and their grace at opening presents was on a similar level. Santino tore at the package, struggling with the tape that held it together.
“Look for the seams, they’re the easiest.” Pippi had been in the country for nearly twenty years and yet he still used the wrong word regularly.
Cross pulled a pink Kappa-made football shirt out of the package.
“That is the team of Sicily, Santino. When I was your age, my father took me to a game like his father took him. I can’t take you now but you can still follow from here.”
From his jacket pocket he held a copy of La Gazzetta dello Sport. He was intent on his children retaining the Sicilian tongue and while Turi found the general news the easiest and Sophia had Vogue Italia, Cross would start with sports.
Santino looked down at the shirt as a smile formed on his face.
“Can I wear it?”
Pippi looked down at his son as he mentally planned his child’s progression to being the first American-Italian Soccer star.
