MISTER MYSTERY RESPONDS

A man of indefinite age and elegantly dressed whom for reasons of discretion we will call Mr. Northise walks up and down the New Yorker Hotel’s room 3241 where he is staying. From the sofa where they are sitting, Michael and Jacob watch him with curiosity. -Do you believe in curses, Mr. Shlimazl? -Why do you ask? -Because I am cursed, damn it! Don’t you believe me?! Look! Mr. Northise quickly approaches Michael and, leaning towards him, points to the tip of his own nose. -What’s the matter with your nose? -That it’s cursed, damn it! And the curse has spread through the rest of my body! -What makes you think that? Are you unwell? Do you have a fever? -Is it necessary to have a fever to be cursed, damn it?! -So you don’t feel any discomfort? -None at all! -Then I don’t understand -What do you not understand, damn it?! -The reason why you think you're cursed. He shows him again the tip of his nose with wide eyes and expressive gesture. Jacob can not avoid proclaiming: ...

Chicago, May 11, 1925. When Joe Maurizio, an accountant, came home from work, he paled. Before the door was a huge piece of Parmesan cheese. He quickly opened the door, whimpering and calling his wife like a frightened child. "What's wrong?!" she asked. Trembling, Maurizio pointed to the cheese. "Oh, what a detail. You have brought cheese”, she said kissing him on the forehead. "But what's wrong with you? You're shaking". Speechlessly, Maurizio dropped himself on an armchair while his wife went grab the cheese. "Don’t touch it!", he shouted. She picked up the cheese and smelled it. "Mmnn, how good it smells." She picked up a knife from the kitchen and began cutting slices. "And it tastes better". He looked at her in awe. "What are you doing?" "Honey, you're very weird. What the hell happens to you?". "How can you eat it like that?" he said, stunned. “Do you mean with the fingers?” “Like...