For a long time in my city, the names of the streets were no longer used, since they had also been erased by time and we had begun to define the areas referring to the groups that commanded them. Each had its own laws which, trivially, translated into «do not go to an area that is not yours otherwise there is trouble.»

Only the «non-pirates» could pass almost undisturbed and were recognized by the fact that they did not carry weapons, that they always had a low gaze and a modest manner of dressing. They weren't men or women, they didn't even have a proper name for their group, they were just the «non-pirates», people to be employed in low-skilled tasks and who were satisfied with little compensation. A bowl of rice, water or something to eat.

In the middle of the course there was a single free zone, Mr. Gianni's tavern, with his faithful sister Maria Assunta. Everyone could sit and consume grog or a coffee, without being the pirates of any faction, because with Mr. Gianni everyone was the same and he was able to keep the peace in his room and to get paid even by the most troublemakers or by those who did not know him. He had a technique that did not fail, at three levels of difficulty: a smile first, then the knife and, in the most difficult case, a stone's throw, which removed all the perplexities, but it was said that he had always stopped to show the knife.

Antonio and I were part of the «half course» crew. Among the most unfortunate pirates, because we did not have access control, like those in Piazza Cairoli and we did not have a supermarket under our complex, like those of the captaincy. Many of us, exhausted by hunger and thirst, chose to become «non-pirates». We usually survived by stealing something from the trucks that supplied the supermarket, but we couldn't do a full-scale boarding, like in the «old days«, because the truck drivers paid the tolls to those in the square and those of the harbor master would not have been happy not to receive their food. What convinced us to stay good? The big guns that the roofs of their buildings were equipped with and that we didn't have. Ultimately we wanted to maintain a point of dignity and call ourselves pirates, but we were more than ordinary thieves and, for this reason, we were despised by others, who considered us little more than «non-pirates».

«There he is. Damn, how much I hate him,» Antonio said looking at the old war cannon on the captain's building. Nobody knew how he got there on that roof.

«Shut up and look down. Do you want to let us discover?» I took him back.

«What's the difference? Either we die by shot or we starve in our hovel.»

«Should I remind you that in the hovel there are your wife and your daughter and my wife and my daughters? Remember the mission. We need to understand when the next shipment arrives.»

«I'm hungry! Did you understand? I am thirsty! And these have more than they need.»

«Don't worry, if we can, we'll go in and steal something,» I said more to reassure him than out of actual conviction. I knew that Bozzo was in his post. The legend said that Bozzo was a bus driver in the life before the Great Crisis that had destroyed the world economy, and that they had to build a reinforced seat for him, because Bozzo was like one imagines a bodyguard. Two meters by two by one meter of muscle. When he was on guard he did not make a turn: sun, shade, rain or whatever. He just said «yes» or «no» if a «non-pirate» approached. «Yes» meant he could go in to work, «no» meant he had to leave, and for that day, the poor guy wasn't eating. Bozzo was a two-door wardrobe, baked by the sun, with a headband of the same color as the skin. In fact, as well as being a pirate it was important to look like one and he, who had no weapons because he didn't need them, in his black leather vest and white Bermuda shorts, seemed the most surly of pirates.

Antonio stopped in front of the supermarket window, just a moment, but it was enough for Bozzo to notice and say «no» as soon as he approached. We had distanced ourselves to have a few more chances to enter, but I received a «no» too. I realized that Bozzo had not made fun of him and I joined Antonio a little further on, who was visibly out of his mind.

The pirates of Cairoli square had a cannon mainly thanks to the inventiveness of their leader, Francesco Dragone, who now called himself Francis Drake. The legend told that, in his former life, he was a car mechanic and that he stopped in that building because of the presence of the square and the supermarket. From the surrounding buildings he had recovered metal pipes, canisters of diesel and small cans and, with his skill, had built a diesel cannon whose bullets, if they did not explode, scattered their incendiary liquid.

Over time, the cannon's presence had attracted other pirates and Drake had built a following. Before this happened it was us, the pirates of the «middle course«, who commanded the road, for this reason Mr. Gianni was placed in that position, in front of our building, only he had withstood the changes well, we didn't.

Each of the two captains controlled the holding of the truce by personally guarding and making sure that the two guns pointed one towards the sea and the other towards the hinterland. Enrico Fiuggi, who called himself Barbarossa for obvious reasons, was the captain of the captaincy whose cannon pointed towards the sea. Legend said that he was a former postal worker who, having become a pirate, had managed to climb the entire social ladder of his crew. In a toy shop he found his pirate's tricorn and never left it. Probably a similar thing had happened to Drake with his clothes. Every so often they looked at each other with their telescopes and greeted each other amicably, only to lengthen the list of more or less edifying nicknames that they gave each other. That simple gesture meant: «the truce holds, but I'm keeping an eye on you.»

«Let's go home,» I said disconsolately to Antonio and we set off. Arriving in front of Bozzo Antonio pulled something out of his pocket. I understood that it was a handcrafted grenade since Antonio was a master at making them and I was very frightened, then I looked my friend in the eyes seeing that he had far exceeded the limit of reason.

«What do you want to do?» I told him in a low voice. He didn't answer, he just went over to Bozzo, who didn't expect such a reaction. When he was close enough he threw the grenade between his legs, making her enter the supermarket, then ran away and I did the same as the grenade stopped, quite occasionally, near a pile of cans and exploded, gutting the shop.

«What did you put in it?» I asked.

«Lucky shot,» he just commented with a grin.

Barbarossa felt everything tremble, and incredulous, he looked out and began to swear, with new words, which aroused the admiration of the rest of the guard. He saw what was left of Bozzo in the middle of the street and then looked towards the square. Drake was waving to signal that it wasn't their action.

«That asshole dances too!»

A pirate came from the ladder.

«The supermarket was hit!»

«From what?»

«I do not know. Everything has been destroyed.»

«It couldn't have been those "half-course" lice. That asshole is dancing! Turn the cannon, I will send the first ball straight into their...» a second explosion immediately shook the building and a tongue of fire came out of the supermarket while the men on guard showed a moment of skidding. «Turn the cannon!»

It didn't take Drake long to notice the opponent's move, but their cannon was much lighter and more manageable. He too ordered it to be turned and loaded as he continued, desperately, to try to contact his counterpart, cursing himself for not having established a protocol with him that would allow him to communicate in cases like this. A lot of preparation, a lot of study and they weren't ready for a simple event, that of communicating with each other and saying «you see I'm not involved».

Drake stirred even more as the two guns were aimed at each other.

«You see this asshole dancing with amusement,» Barbarossa said even more in anger.

«They attacked the supermarket!» Maria said terrified after looking out, but Mr. Gianni, who imagined all that would be unleashed, was already cleaning the old gun.

When the captain's cannon was aimed in the desired direction, Barbarossa detonated the first shot that destroyed the great fountain.

Drake responded with an incendiary bullet that set the front of the captaincy ablaze. The reload time of the two weapons was more or less equivalent, which resulted in a back-and-forth of hits. All those who, in the two buildings, were not needed for war operations, evacuated and left. The last lucky shot of the captaincy hit the facade of the opposing building and Drake's men, realizing that the building had now become unstable, fired the last shot and evacuated. The captain's cannon was engulfed in flames. Eventually even Barbarossa, who had tried to resist as long as possible and put out the fire, left before the captaincy building collapsed.

"I knew that these assholes, sooner or later, would kill each other and I would have to collect weapons and luggage," thought Mr. Gianni, hearing the sound of cannons fire and buildings collapsing, while he checked the functioning of the weapon and loaded it calmly.

As soon as Barbarossa was out, he gathered his crowd realizing, with regret, that Bozzo had not survived.

«We will dance on their bodies! For Bozzo!» he yelled guiding them to the square.

«Let's not get them to our homes!» barked Drake.

The groups arrived in front of the Variety tavern as a shot from a stone tore through the air, then Mr. Gianni pointed to the two leaders with his rifle.

«Now you sit down and agree first, but you drink a bottle together. I'll bid,» he ordered in a tone that didn't allow for replies

«Do you offer...the grog?» Drake said, grasping the exceptional nature of the situation.

«No! Oil would not make you think. Rum! And I shot who shakes.»

While the three were draining the bottle sitting at a table, under the envious and attentive gaze of their crews, Antonio and I watched the scene coming out of the hiding place we had occupied.

«Why did you attack us?» Barbarossa asked, breaking the ice.

«In your opinion, how could I pull at the supermarket, which was located below, covered by buildings and why then? I eat there too with the trucks that come for you.»

«Why were you dancing then?»

«Was I dancing? I was waving to make you understand that I was not involved, idiot.»

«What do we do now?» Barbarossa asked, realizing the stupidity they had done.

«Let's rebuild the supermarket and the garrison at the beginning of the square, but in another building.»

«Okay,» Barbarossa said, extending her hand to make the deal.

«Okay,» Drake replied, squeezing her tightly.

«At this point I don't worry about you anymore, but those in the Bozzano neighborhood are still strong,» Barbarossa said.

«We will retrieve the guns and keep them at bay,» Drake concluded after thinking about it.

"These are really two irrecoverable assholes," thought Mr. Gianni observing them, but said nothing.