Amerigo Bonneserra sits in the Third Criminal Court of New York, waiting for justice to be served, waiting for retribution to fall on the two guys. They tried to defile his daughter and cruelly hurt her.
The judge is burly, and he rolled up the sleeves of his black robe, as if he was about to punish the two young men standing in front of the judge’s bench. He looked cold and disdainful. However, there was something wrong with all of this in front of me. Americo Bonassella felt it, but didn’t understand it at the moment.
“You are like the most depraved pervert,” the judge snapped. Yes, that is, Amerigo Bonner Serra thought. Animals, animals. The two young men had greasy, flat heads, clean shaved faces, pretending to be pious and contrite, and bowed their heads obediently.
The judge continued: “You behaved like jungle beasts, but fortunately, you didn’t violate the poor girl, otherwise I must put you in jail for twenty years.” The judge hesitated for a moment, and his eyes turned gray and yellow under his unforgettable thick eyebrows. Amerigo Bonner Serra flashed quietly, and immediately looked at the stack of appraisal reports in front of him. He frowned and shrugged his shoulders, as if trying to subdue his spontaneous desire. He spoke again.
“However, considering that you are still young, have no criminal record, and have a decent family, and the starting point of the law is not retaliation, I sentenced you to reformation in a reformatory school for three years with a moratorium.”
Had it not been for forty years of funeral and burial, the blows and hatred from the mountains would surely climb onto the face of Amerigo Bonassella. The beautiful little girl is still in the hospital, with a steel wire holding her broken jaw. Are the two little beasts going to get away with it? The trial was a farce from beginning to end. He watched his happy parents surround his son. God, how happy they are now, they are smiling.
Tart black bile rushed to his throat, overflowing through the clenched teeth. Bonassella took out the white linen handkerchief in her breast pocket and pressed it on her lips. He stood there, and the two young men strode down the aisle, arrogantly and carefree, grinning, not even looking at him. He watched them pass without saying a word, pressing his lips with a brand new handkerchief.
Their parents approached. Two pairs of men and women were about his age, but they were dressed more American. They glanced at him, and although their faces were ashamed, their eyes gleamed with pride.
Bonassella lost control and shouted into the aisle, hoarse voice: “You will cry like me! I want you to cry, just like your children make me cry…” The handkerchief raised to the corner of the eye. The defense lawyer behind the palace drove the client forward, and the parents tightly surrounded the two young people. They were walking back down the aisle, as if to protect their parents. The big bailiff immediately blocked Bonn Serra’s row of seats. In fact, this is not necessary.
Amerigo Bonassella has lived in the United States for many years, and believes in law and order, so he prospered. At this moment, despite the hatred of smoking, and the thought of buying a gun to kill the two people as if to break away from the skull, Bonassella still turned around and explained to his wife, who was still desperately understanding the situation, “They fooled us.” After a pause, he made up his mind and was no longer afraid of the price, “For justice, we must go to Don Corleone.”
In a magnificent hotel suite in Los Angeles, Johnny Fontan was so drunk that he could escape an ordinary jealous husband. He lay on his back on the red sofa, grabbed the Scotch whiskey bottle and drank it to his mouth, and soaked his lips into the crystal glass bucket containing ice and water to wash away the smell of the wine. At four o’clock in the morning, he drank so much that he imagined waiting for his arrogant wife to kill her as soon as she got home. But only if she is willing to go home. It’s too late to call the ex-wife to greet the children at this moment, and it doesn’t seem appropriate for people whose careers have taken a turn for the worse to call friends. For a while, they would be flattered when they received a call at four in the morning, but now they can only feel bored. Thinking of the time when he went uphill, Johnny Fontan’s troubles had fascinated some of the most dazzling actresses in the United States, and he couldn’t help laughing at himself.
Drinking scotch whiskey, he finally heard his wife insert the key into the keyhole, but he only drank until she walked into the room and stopped in front of him. The wife in his eyes was still so beautiful, with angel faces, affectionate violet eyes, and a slender, soft but bumpy body. Her beauty has been magnified many times on the screen, transcending worldliness. Hundreds of millions of men all over the world have fallen in love with this face of Margot Ashton and are willing to pay to watch it on the screen.
“Where the hell have you been?” Johnny Fontan asked.
“Go out and fool around,” she replied.
She underestimated his drunkenness. He jumped over the cocktail table and grabbed her by the throat. However, as he approached this magical face, these lovely violet eyes, his anger dissipated out of thin air, and he became at a loss. She made a mistake and saw him put her fists away and smiled mockingly. She yelled, “Don’t slap your face, Johnny, I’m still filming.”
She laughed. He punched her in the stomach and she fell to the ground. He fell on her, she gasped desperately, and he could smell her fragrant breath. Fists fell on her arms and smooth tan thigh skin. He beat her painfully, as if returning to the Hell’s Kitchen in New York many years ago. He was still a fierce teenager who was beating a child with a runny nose. He can make the other person suffer, but he won’t be distorted by losing his teeth or breaking his nose.
However, he was not hit hard enough. He can’t do it. She giggled at him. She lay on the ground with her limbs spread, the brocade gown pulled to the base of her thigh, giggling and taunting him. “Come on, poke in. You poke in, Johnny, what you really want is this.”
Johnny Fontan stood up. He hated this woman on the ground, but her beauty was like a magic shield. Margot rolled over and the dancer jumped up and stood facing him. She took the child’s mocking dance and sang, “Johnny will never hurt me, Johnny will never hurt me.” Then she put on a beautiful face and said almost sadly, “Poor fool bastard, fight It makes me feel like a kid. Alas, Johnny is always a silly Italian, so romantic, even making love is like a kid, and thinks that shooting is really like the idiots you sing.” She shook her head and said, ” Poor Johnny. Goodbye, Johnny.” She walked into the bedroom and he heard her turn the key to lock the door.
Johnny sat on the ground, his face buried in his hands. The humiliating despair drowned him. But before long, the grassroots resilience that helped him survive in the Hollywood jungle made him pick up the phone and call a car to take him to the airport. Someone can save him. He is going back to New York. Go back to the person who has power, wisdom, and trust. His godfather, Corleone.
The baker Nazzolini is as stocky and hard as the baguettes he bake; he is covered with flour, glaring at his wife, daughter Catherine and helper Enzo, who are just married. Enzo put on a prisoner of war uniform with a green armband, afraid that this scene would make him too late to report back to Governor’s Island. He is one of thousands of Italian prisoners of war. He is released on parole every day to contribute to the American economy. He lives in constant fear, lest his parole be revoked. Therefore, the little comedy that is being performed is too serious for him.
Nazzolini asked fiercely: “Did you humiliate my family? The war is over. You know that the United States is going to kick you back to the Sicilian countryside where shit is everywhere, so I left a small package for my daughter as a souvenir?”
Enzo is short, but with strong muscles and bones. He stretched out his hand and held his heart. Although he almost burst into tears, he spoke eloquently: “Master, I swear to the Virgin that I will never disappoint your kindness. I love you with all my heart. My daughter. I propose to her wholeheartedly. I know I am not worthy of her. If they send me back to Italy, I will never be able to return to the United States, and I will never be able to marry Catherine.”
Philomona, Nazzolini’s wife, spoke at this time. “Don’t make a fuss,” she said to the chunky husband. “You know what to do. Leave Enzo and let him go to Long Island to stay with our distant relatives and avoid the wind.”
Catherine was crying. She is already getting blessed, not very pretty, and she has a faint beard. She would never find a second man as handsome as Enzo willing to marry her, and willing to touch her private parts with respect and love. “I am willing to live in Italy,” she screamed at her father. “If you don’t let Enzo stay, I will run away from home.”
Nazzolini glanced at his daughter fiercely. His daughter is a “hot goods”. He had seen it with his own eyes, Enzo squeezed over behind her, put the hot stick just out of the oven into the basket on the counter, his daughter rubbed Enzo’s lower body with the round hips. Nazzolini thought inwardly: If proper measures are not taken, the little hooligan’s hot stick will get into his daughter’s oven. Enzo must stay in the United States and become an American citizen. There is only one person in the world who can arrange this kind of thing-Godfather Don Corleone.
All of the above, as well as many others, received beautiful and exquisite invitations to attend the wedding of Miss Constanza Corleone scheduled for the last Saturday of August 1945. Although the bride’s father, Don Vito Corleone, has moved into the Long Island mansion, he never forgets his old friends and neighbors. The reception banquet will be held in that mansion, and the celebration ceremony will last all day. There is no doubt that this social event will be exceptionally grand. The war with Japan has just ended, so don’t worry about your son on the battlefield. People are in need of a wedding to show their inner joy.
In this way, on that Saturday morning, Don Corleone’s family and friends rushed out of New York City to show their respect and love. The gifts they sent were cash filled with beige envelopes, not checks. In each envelope is a card indicating the identity of the giver and how much respect he paid to the godfather. Every respect to the godfather is well-deserved.
Everyone turns to Don Vito Corleone for help, and hopes are never lost. He did not allow empty cheques or excuses to hide cowardice, saying that there are more powerful forces in the world that bind his hands. He doesn’t have to be your friend, and it doesn’t matter whether you have the ability to repay. There is only one indispensable condition: you, yourself, acknowledge your friendship with him. When this condition is met, no matter how poor or humble the requester is, Don Corleone will take his troubles to heart. In order to solve the disaster of the helper, he would not allow anything to stand in the way. repay? It’s just friendship. He is called “Tang”, and the title of “godfather” with more affection is also used from time to time. Occasionally send some simple gifts-a gallon of home-brewed wine, a basket of pepper scones specially baked for his family’s Christmas table-just to show respect, never profit. Everyone is unwilling to say that this is just a gesture of goodwill, expressing the feelings you owe him, and he has the right to ask you to do something small at any time to meet the debt.
Today is a big day, the day his daughter gets married. Don Vito Corleone stands at the door of Long Beach to receive guests. He knows everyone and he trusts everyone. Many people have lived a comfortable life thanks to Tang, and can call him “Godfather” in person on this intimate occasion. Even those responsible for entertaining at the celebration are friends. The bartender is his old buddy, and the gift is all the drinks and his skillful skills at the wedding banquet. The waiter is a friend of Don Corleone’s sons. The food on the garden table was cooked by Tang’s wife and her friends. The garden was an acre large, brightly lit and beaming, decorated by the bride’s close friends.
Don Corleone entertains everyone with the same enthusiasm, whether they are poor or rich, high-ranking or insignificant. He doesn’t neglect anyone. This is his character. The guests praised how graceful he was in a tuxedo, and when outsiders met him, they easily thought Tang was the lucky bridegroom.
Two of the three sons stood with him at the door. The eldest’s baptized name was Santino, but everyone except his father called him Sonny. The older Italian looked at him with squinting eyes, while the younger looked admiring. As far as the first generation of Italian parents gave birth in the United States, Sonny Corleone was quite tall, almost six feet tall, and with thick curly hair that had been shaved to a flat head, he looked even taller. He has thick eyebrows, big eyes, well-defined features, and looks like Cupid, the thick bow-shaped lips, and his shallow chin is inexplicably lewd. He is as strong as a bull. Everyone knows that God has given him a unique capital. His wife regards himself as a martyr, and his fear of the marriage bed is no less than that of the pagans who were afraid of torture. There are rumors that when he was young, he often visited ill-regarded yards. Even the most experienced and fearless old prostitutes, after awe-inspiring inspection of his huge fellow, also charged double the price.
At the wedding reception, several young women with big butts and big mouths looked at Sonny Corleone confidently and restrained. But this time they were probably wasting time, because Sonny Corleone was already preparing to attack his sister’s bridesmaid Lucy Mancini, although his wife and three children were also there. The girl was also enlightened, wearing a pink dress sitting at the garden table and wearing a flower crown on her shiny black hair. She was already flirting with Sonny during the rehearsal last week, and she squeezed his hand in front of the altar that morning. After all, it’s a girl’s house, so I can only do this.
Sonny couldn’t be his father’s kind of great man, but Lucy didn’t care. Sonny Corleone has strength and courage. He is very generous, as convincing as his huge capital. However, he lacked the humility of his father, and his temper was fierce and fierce, causing him to make mistakes. Although he is a good helper to his father’s career, few people believe he can succeed.
The second son, Frederick, who is called Fred or Freddy, is the kind of child that every Italian would pray to the sage to be able to have one. He is filial and loyal, and always works for his father. He lives with his parents when he is 30 years old. He is not tall, sturdy, not handsome, but he also has a family inherited Eros head, thick curly hair, round face, and sexy bow-shaped lips. But on Fred’s face, those lips were not sensual, but like a granite statue. He has a gloomy personality and is the right arm of his father. He never talks back to his father, never hooks up with a woman, and makes his face dull. In spite of so many advantages, he lacks the charisma and bestiality essential to leaders, and no one expects him to inherit the family business.