Berlusconi: Finale

In his final final column for the Onion Bag, Il Duce Silvio Berlusconi contemplates Spanish victory and Italian failure with an old friend.

"Please Duce, let me see."

"No!"

"But Duce, you have kept me alive for decades for your pleasure. Please. Let me see."

"No!"

"Silvio, I am you friend, your mentori."

I soften at this. It is true, the General has been a loyal ally since I dug up his bones and breathed life back into him.

Strumming my pain

I look upon him with pity. Even now, minus his arms and legs, with only rotted muscles, a shrivelled cortex and one good eye the General craves that surge of power. I have power, and arms and legs and women. Yet right now he has what I want. Glory for his children. Glory for Espana.

"Very well" with the wave of a hand The Pig grabs the General's trolley and turns him around to face my viewing screen. "Begone Pig" I spit at it. The Pig cowers, begs forgiveness and crawls from my sight.

Singing my life

The General watches. His eye leaks putrefied embalming fluid. I lean forward to his mouth and can just make out the words "Espana Espana" I know in his minds eye he is there with them, embracing them all, Spanish and Catalan alike. Yet secretly plotting a pogrom in downtown Barcelona. How alike he and I are.

But I cannot help but think of my Italia's disgrace, with me barely weeks back on my throne. It took the burning of three gypsy camps to quell my anger. That, and the immolation of The Pig.

Killing me Softly

"Enough!" I say as I grab the remote. There was a time when I could console myself by making these Spaniards mine at by beloved Milan but even that is denied me. I kick the General and watch him roll out of my chamber doors and ponder the hollowness of my station. I am restored to power, yet no one will meet my gaze. Even Sheva, beautiful Sheva has abandoned me...

"Veronica! Where is my service revolver!? I wish to take a walk in the woods."