The Easter Lamb

By Mark Conte

On the morning of Good Friday Papa Vianello and his three sons go to the Italian market to buy a live lamb. It is a tradition for the Vianello family to buy a live lamb on Good /Friday, fatten it up all day Friday and Saturday, they it is slaughtered by Papa Vianello, skinned and prepared for their Easter. The children of Juniper street are amazed at having a live lamb on their very street in the Vianello basement. The favored friends are allowed to come into the cellar and pet the lamb and feed it lettuce, but the majority of the children are stationed at the basement’s two windows looking at the wonder of a live animal.. The boys name her Delilah and all afternoon there are cries of Delilah
That night, Carlo, the youngest son at five years old begs his brothers to save the lamb from being their Easter dinner and together with Skipper, the little Irish girl next door, Dante, Johnny and Skipper divise a plan to try to save Delilah. The plan is almost perfect.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Conte
• Release date: Feb 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370468881

Mark Conte

Short bioI have had fiction, poetry, articles and guest columns in 67 publications including Yankee, Poetry International, Southern Poetry Review, Potomac Review, Philadelphia Daily News, Miami Jerald, New York Times and Washington Post. I won Honorable Mention in the PEN American Awards in short fiction in 1979 and First Prize in the Barbwire Theatre Award for Poetry in 1978. I was director of the Florida State University Poet Series, appointed Master Poet by the Florida Arts Council and assistant director of the FSU CPE. My previous books are Walking on Water, 1986, In the Arms of Strangers, 2003, Five Days to Eternity, 2005, The Judas Scroll, 2005, Of Flesh & Stone, 2009 and The Ghost, 2013, The Winds of Revolution, 2016, A Friend of the Family, 2016, under two different names. I am a member of the Authors Guild and the Academy of American Poets.

Book preview

EASTER LAMB

By

Mark Conte

ISBN 13:

ISBN 10:

This book is a work of Fiction. Names, characters, events or locations are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This book is licensed for private, individual entertainment only. The book contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, stored in or introduced into an information retrieval system or transmitted in any form by ANY means (electrical, mechanical, photographic, audio recording or otherwise) for any reason (excepting the uses permitted by the licensee by copyright law under terms of fair use) without the specific written permission of the author.

Publishers Publication in Data:

Conte, Mark

Easter Lamb, The

1. Juvenile fiction 2. Historical  3.  Easter  4.  Lambs  5. Childhood lessons

For Jordy

CHAPTER ONE

The Good Friday shoppers jostled and pushed each other along the 9th Street market, as merchants hawked their products. Large red and green wooden stands sat in front of stores filled with whole salamis, prosciutto, and freshly made Italian sausage. Tables of ricotta, locatelli, romano and parmesan cheese punctuated each corner of the streets, and yellow carts of eggplants, artichokes and zucchini stood parked along the curbs as far as the eye could see.

Chickens, freshly killed, with their heads tucked under their wings, lay on brown butcher paper, as flies dodged the merchant’s hands, taking their share of the kill, and lamb and goat pens were set up in front of every butcher shop in anticipation of the feast of the resurrection.

Papa Vianello stopped at a pen and looked at each lamb carefully. He ran his finger along his long, black mustache and twisted the end. He was a big man, built like the opera singers of old, which he had been at one time, with a 48" waist and barrel chest to match. He had an aquiline nose, and keen lentil eyes that had the most amazing peripheral vision. Papa Vianello turned from the pen and walked down the street to the next pen. Dante, Johnny and Carlo trailed behind him, whispering between themselves on which of the lambs their father would take. Dante, at eleven years old, was the oldest and stood beside Papa Vianello each time they stopped at a pen and explained to his brothers why Papa Vianello had not picked a certain lamb.

Not meaty enough, he would say, or Too skinny!

Johnny, who Aunt Felice always referred to as The Middle One, watched Papa Vianello closely and fingered his cat’s eye marble shooter.

Why doesn’t he pick a white one? Johnny said. He never picks a white one.

Papa Vianello stopped at a pen in front of Genero’s Butcher Shop. As he stepped in the pen, the lambs became nervous and ran around the pen away from him. Papa cornered on of the lambs and grabbed him by the neck and shoulders and held it until the lamb became calm. He then felt the legs and shoulders, patted the back and thighs and picked up the lamb by its forelegs, trying to judge its weight. Carlo, five years old and the baby of the family, lagged behind, holding on to a white shoebox that he had propped under his left arm, trying to keep up with his brothers. The shoe box had tiny air holes in the lid and contained three baby chicks that were dyed green, orange and purple. Every now and then, Carlo lifted the box to his ear and listened to the chicks scratch the bottom of the box and call out in their tiny voices, Cheep. Cheep.

Carlo had soft, unblemished skin with deep dimples in his cheeks. He had rich black hair and round fawn-like eyes that made the old Italian woman want to pinch his cheeks whenever they saw him. Carlo squeezed between his brothers and looked at the lamb pen as Papa Vianello put the gray lamb back down and felt his thighs again.

What do you think? Carlo said.

I don’t know, Dante said. He’s kind of dirty.

I don’t care if he’s dirty, Carlo said. It’s okay if he’s dirty.

He’s nice and fat, Dante said.

See what I mean, Johnny said. He never picks a white one.

A fat butcher with thick, black hair and a wide nose came out of the shop, wiping his bloodied hands on the large white apron he had wrapped around his stomach. He struck a match with his fingernail and lit a stogie, puffing little clouds of gray smoke from his mouth. He shook the match out and looked at Papa Vianello.

"Buongiorno," he said.

"Buongiorno," Papa Vianello said. He slapped the dirt off his hands and looked at the lambs in the pen.

How much for the dirty one? he said.

Oh, you mean the fat one, the butcher said. Fifteen dollars.

Fifteen dollars? Papa Vianello said in disbelief. You must think I’m a rich one. He looked at the lamb again. I’ll give you eight dollars.

For eight dollars, you can have that skinny one over there, the butcher said.

No, Papa Vianello said. I want the dirty one.

He’s fifteen dollars, the butcher said.

Papa Vianello looked up and down 9th Street. Across the street was another lamb pen with some white lambs and a goat. He stepped out of the pen onto the pavement.

I’ll tell you what, Pop, the butcher said. Since you are a steady customer, I’ll give it to you for thirteen dollars.

It’s no gift at thirteen dollars, Papa Vianello said. I’ll give you nine dollars.

The butcher looked up at the sky and spread his arms wide, then clasped his hands together as if in prayer. Why, God? he said to the sky. Why do they do this to my best lambs? He sighed and pointed to the lamb. Ten dollars, he said, and that’s my last price. I’m supposed to be in business here."

Ten dollars it is, Papa Vianello said. He took out his wallet and gave the butcher two five-dollar bills, careful not to expose the remaining money in his wallet. Dante climbed into the pen and stood next to his father. Johnny climbed in after him and said, I’ll tie him, Papa.

Dante said, I’m the oldest, so I’ll tie him." Carlo tried to climb