The strange case of Folchini and Beligni

And here's The Strange Story of Folchini and Beligni.

It all began one day in September last year, when, sadly, my mother passed away. But the problem wasn't so much the sadness over her passing, but the curse of the House of Shit (hence the famous song "House of Shit, House of Shit, Now We Want All Your Money ;-)) which, as already mentioned, absolutely refuses to let us go—me, my mother, etc.

So, on the very day of her death, the house of shit decides to clog a drain pipe in the kitchen sink column, causing various filth to gush out of the sink of that same shitty house. And I find myself scrubbing floors and swearing while I have to think about the funeral...

As I begin to clear away the pile of junk, the first asshole of the story appears, namely the legendary Spinapolice (remember, he's not Romanian, but from Foggia...). First he says, "I'm interested in the place," which quickly turns into, "Let me sell it to you. I used to be a real estate agent... now I'm an idiot." So he insists on helping me clear out the house...

So, first he tells me he's "trying to find some clients," and I tell him I don't need a real estate agent because the shitty house sells easily (as strange as it may seem). Then I put a "for sale" sign in the street, which some faggot takes down. Meanwhile, he tells me he's already found a few potential buyers, at a price WAY HIGHER than I imagined (and that makes sense...).

A little time passes, and the many buyers are reduced to one—a poor, 24-year-old, stupid, already pregnant and married to a fucking Southerner who's ugly as hell. It's the famous woman who insists on giving me a "post-dated deposit"—which I find abhorrent, but at the insistence of this horde of shitty Southerners, including the Calabrian uncle of an old middle school friend, I agree (I'm always too good).

So, 5 weeks go by, the deed doesn't get done, I don't have the "real" deposit, and the woman is blabbering about not getting her the mortgage (and, in fact, if I were the banker, I'd do the same :) )

After some swearing, at the end of January I unilaterally TERMINATE the contract—and screw the idiotic "so-called real estate agent" who advised me to send a registered letter, otherwise I could end up in the wrong. My comment was, "You and your friend should be in the wrong"... ;-)

So, another friend steps forward.

"I know a friend who works at a real estate agency... he's good..."

Okay, I didn't want the agency, but let's try. The guy shows up, all cool but less of a jerk than the Tecnocasari :) and gives me an appraisal and immediately puts up a huge banner on the balcony. Oh well...

Within 2-3 weeks, the guy finds me a couple of buyers, and then zeroes in on one who's "buying it for investment": the offer is a tad lower than I'd hoped, obviously a lot lower than the Apulian idiot was raving about, but it's still okay. Also because, after 6 months + 4 decades, I'm really fed up with this shitty house! And it looks like everything will be done soon.

So I meet the legendary Mrs. Folchini: a kind of old lady, seemingly a bit of a snob, but not by much. We sign the preliminary agreement as agreed upon over the phone, but "since the woman will have to go abroad for treatment, we have to postpone the closing later, let's say June." In exchange, the woman gives me a larger deposit (a real one this time!)

Okay.

Two months go by... and no one hears from Remax HQ.

I call, and they say, "Everything's fine, the closing will be done next week." Then, after a while, "my seller" calls me back and says, "Everything's confirmed, except the buyer has changed, but it's all the same to you..."

Obviously, if I were a real swindler or some other kind of con artist with a gut, I should have seized the opportunity, screwed everyone, kept the deposit, and put the house back on the market, no matter what, since the contract was terminated through THEIR FAULT. But instead, I didn't think of that...

I say, okay. Curiously, the guy asks me if "I can return the deposit I already received, to give it back to the lady and receive a new one from the new buyer." I reply that no, I don't have it ready in my account... that money.

"Oh, then we'll see what to do..." the guy replies.

So, vaguely worried, I arrive at the even more legendary notary.

There's a plethora of people: two Remaxians, the old buyer, the new buyer with his family, the notary plus her secretary, me...

We begin reading the deed. At a certain point, the notary asks if the previous buyer has received her deposit back: she says no, rightfully so, and I explain that I need a few days to divest (as I explained to the Remax man) and that I can write her a check on her current account.

Then the notary takes note and decides that "then I will receive the full amount of the for sale EXCEPT for the portion I have to return, which will be held by you until Folchini collects it."

I frown but say that's fine. 4-5 days, okay. I prepare a check from the booklet and, as I complete it, I tell everyone and the old lady, "I'll put the date on it... in a few days."

"Oh, no, don't worry, I'll cash it after I leave for vacation," she replies.

"Okay, yes, but the currency the bank uses is the one written here... if we don't set it AFTER my divestment, I'll be in the red on the currency..."

"Oh, but that's not true!" blurts out the crooked woman.

"I assure you that..."

"I manage companies, you know? I know banking procedures..." he insists.

I'm starting to get "vaguely" pissed off.

"So, ma'am, I even worked at a bank: so, if we have to do what you say, then you put €1,000 on the table here, because that's how much the overdraft will cost me!"

The woman shrugs, at which point I go on the attack. "No, because it seems to me that I'M THE ONE WHO HOLDS THE PROPERTY TO SELL, but you're all trying to scam me: you don't trust me to give you back the deposit..."

The idiot snaps like Santanchè and says, "How dare you? We're in front of a public official, you risk a lawsuit!

I smile at her all cool (!) and reply, "No, ma'am, when you tell the truth, you never risk anything, you know Travaglio?"

Silence falls, including the idiot.

Finally, the notary speaks up and explains to the idiot that I'm right, so we agree on a date and the procedure is unblocked.

I grab three-quarters of my money and say goodbye to everyone—notice that the old bitch doesn't even say hello to me. I'm confident she won't make it to the New Year, despite the treatments abroad...!!!

So we've agreed that within a week or ten days she can pick up the rest of the money. Good.

I call the Remax guy and he tells me that "Wednesday is fine, I spoke with Beligni and she confirms."

Okay.

I arrive in the usual fucking shitty building in the shitty city in the shitty, arrogant center of her Savoyard shit. ;-) and I ring the bell, so I arrive at the office.

A young woman is busy on the phone behind her desk, and another Remaxian comes towards me.

"But... did you notify the notary?"

"No, you did... I spoke to your colleague..." I reply.

"Because they don't know anything about your check here, I'm afraid you'll have to come back."

Oddly enough, instead of starting to curse a thousand saints and wish cancer on 100-200 generations of these bastards, I burst out laughing a little hysterically and then comment, "No problem: the money I've been owed for 10 days is in here somewhere, I'll call the police and I won't leave until you give it to me!"

Meanwhile, the woman is already hanging up the phone and has the situation explained to her 2-3 (more) times.

"I can't do anything, the check is in Safe, the notary is on vacation and..."

I repeat that I'm about to call 911.

So the two of them confer, and the "diligent" scullery maid starts calling the notary. Then she calls Folchini, first through the "diligent" Remaxian, then live "because I absolutely have to speak to her in person."

The whore turns out to be in San-maledetto-del-porcodio :D and, in any case, she answers from the beach, and confirms that my check has been cashed. So the scullery maid prepares yet another self-certification for me and, magically, finds the keys to the safe to cough up the stolen goods.

Finally, we leave - while the Remaxian says something like "It's the first time we've worked with this notary, and it will also be the last."

Well, in general, I hope there's no tomorrow for all of you protagonists of this story. Including the shitty house ;-)