A little while ago the family discovered that we were not a dime a dozen clan but were ‘connected’.
My wife and daughters completed this online quiz which determined (scientifically) which of the members of the Corleone family you would actually be, in real life and fiction. My three daughters were all pleased that they came out as Michael. I would have staked my manhood on that being my wife. She, however, came out as Sonny, impulsive, passionate, and vengeful. I received the ‘numero uno’ and came out as the Don.
Now, it was Don Vito Corleone who was a man for making offers that people could not refuse. A visit, a chat, and a horse’s head in the bed convinced most people to agree. I am not like that, I don’t visit people, I am not a chatter, and I have no horse. For the record, I also prefer horses whole and not disassembled. Also for the record, it wasn’t me making the offer. It was Sonny.
Now when Sonny makes you an offer it kind of sounds like an ultimatum.
After a fetid day of work, Sonny sat disconsolate. I have opened the door of the family home and had a sense of the raw frustration that roamed within.
From across the room, she stared at me.
“You, if you know what is good for you, you will write a best-selling novel. You need to write it quickly. When it sells, and we have the money in the bank, we can move to Spain. All your dreams will come true if you do me this one little favour.”
I agreed. What else could I do?
I checked the cat this morning, as she snoozed on the bed, and was relieved that she was still attached to her head.