“So, Sandra me dear,” Salami began. “I should tell ya about the rules every Salami follows.”
Sandra nodded. She was a mess. Her red hair sort of went in all directions, but her large round glasses kept the hair from poking her eyes out. (A worry the professor always has, you see–when wearing the mop.)
“Rule #1,” Salami said: “I’m the patriarch of the family, not Oregano, me brother. He’ll try to make you think he’s the boss, but he’s not!” Salami’s green eyes were glowing.
“Does that make me the matriarch?”
“Of course. Me daughter definitely!”
Sandra’s brow kinda scrunched up. “You heard? Shouldn’t you know for sure?”
Salami laughed, and leaned back into his chair. “When he was younger, Ruber was a free spirit. I tried to keep him contained, but…he was a warrior!”
Sandra rolled her eyes. Then she went back to flipping through some sort of medical book, with scary pictures.
“And that brings us to the last point–for now. Point #3: Don’t mess with me baby son, Lucini Pavarinni.”
Sandra looked up and nodded. “Ruber said he was a ‘bad bloke up to no good all the time.'”
Salami’s mouth fell. “Ruber said that?”
“Eww…” And Salami’s green eyes were looking somewhere else for a moment. “Anyway, don’t mess with Lucini. He’s a bright boy. And quite scary.”