It is All About the Big Man with the Little Dog

It was, undoubtedly, luck and not skill that brought me to Caltagirone. I didn't even know how lucky I was until I saw Don Bepo sitting smoking outside a bar, by the Scalinata di Santa Maria del Monte. I greeted him with the traditional "Baciamo le mani, Don Bepo!" to which he replied "Salve amico, ma hadash?" We talked about the weather and sipped espresso and I asked the courtesy question of how the rossoazzurri are doing this season. A young woman walked by and made Don Bepo freeze with his cup in midair ... she truly had a formidable ass. Finally he put his cup down and turned to me: "You know I have the last two last pieces, right?" I looked at him and said "right and left, right?" Don Bepo smiled and ordered more coffee and Amaro and we sat there watching people going by listening to their respectful greetings. It was late, maybe gone eleven, when he reached into his pocket and put the two segments in front of me: "Tanta merda, amico. Ora vai via!" 

I took them and left only wondering what the hell happened to the big man with the little dog.

The Unintended and Tragic Consequence of not Thinking it Through Thoroughly

He woke up, as usual just in time to stop the alarm from going off, and went to the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth. He decided to dress in the brown outfit today. He got his brown shoes out and bent down to tie his laces ... it somehow didn't work, his fingers didn't know what to do. He tried again and failed again. Panic set in, there was sweat on his forehead. He sat down and tried ujjayi breath ... it calmed him down enough to search on his phone "Tie Shoelaces". There were 680 hits of which the first two pages tried to sell him neckties and/or shoelaces. On the third page, he found  "Inability to Tie One's Shoelaces" and followed the link. It described exactly his symptoms and recommended brewing a tea from cumin seeds, turmeric, nutmeg shavings, black peppercorns, and white vinegar: boil it for three minutes and simmer it for twenty ... and drink it cold. He followed the instructions without any thought. About an hour later he put on his brown shoes and his fingers danced a precise ballet finishing in superb symmetrical bows on both shoes. 

"The last thing he remembered, was running for the door, had to find the passage back to the place he was before" He looked down and saw that all his fingers had fallen off.