The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
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pounding against the tips of his fingers, the tips of his toes. All the perfumes of the 
island came rushing in on the wind, orange, lemon blossoms, grapes, flowers. It seemed 
as if his body had sprung away from him out of himself. And then he heard the two 
shepherds laughing. 
“You got hit by the thunderbolt, eh?” Fabrizzio said, clapping him on the shoulder. Even 
Calo became friendly, patting him on the arm and saying, “Easy, man, easy,” but with 
affection. As if Michael had been hit by a car. Fabrizzio handed him a wine bottle and 
Michael took a long slug. It cleared his head. 
“What the hell are you damn sheep lovers talking about?” he said. 
Both men laughed. Calo, his honest face filled with the utmost seriousness, said, “You 
can’t hide the thunderbolt. When it hits you, everybody can see it. Christ, man, don’t be 
ashamed of it, some men pray for the thunderbolt. You’re a lucky fellow.” 
Michael wasn’t too pleased about his emotions being so easily read. But this was the 
first time in his life such a thing had happened to him. It was nothing like his adolescent 
crushes, it was nothing like the love he’d had for Kay, a love based as much on her 
sweetness, her intelligence and the polarity of the fair and dark. This was an 
overwhelming desire for possession, this was an unerasable printing of the girl’s face on 
his brain and he knew she would haunt his memory every day of his life if he did not 
possess her. His life had become simplified, focused on one point, everything else was 
unworthy of even a moment’s attention. During his exile he had always thought of Kay, 
though he felt they could never again be lovers or even friends. He was, after all was 
said, a murderer, a Mafioso who had “made his bones.” But now Kay was wiped 
completely out of his consciousness. 
Fabrizzio said briskly, “I’ll go to the village, we’ll find out about her. Who knows, she may 
be more available than we think. There’s only one cure for the thunderbolt, eh, Calo?” 
The other shepherd nodded his head gravely. Michael didn’t say anything. He followed 
the two shepherds as they started down tie road to the nearby village into which the 
flock of girls had disappeared. 
The village was grouped around the usual central square with its fountain. But it was on 
a main route so there were some stores, wine shops and one little cafe with three tables 
out on a small terrace. The shepherds sat at one of the tables and Michael joined them. 
There was no sign of the girls, not a trace. The village seemed deserted except for small 
boys and a meandering donkey. 

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