What prompted Roberto to accept the offer from the rickety Monopoly man, in retrospect, he was never able to specify. Even today, when he recounts the events that took place during those horrible nights, when he gets to the point where he should justify showing up at the address indicated on the business card that fateful evening, he glosses over it. Maybe it was simple curiosity. Maybe the situation was so absurd that, if it had turned out to be true, that job offer could only be considered a sign of destiny. Maybe once he had pocketed those hundred euros he felt obligated to the crazy old man.

The fact is that, after having dinner and checking the route to follow on Google Maps, at nine in the evening, Roberto left the house. He locked the door and headed to a distant neighborhood, on the edge of a suburb that faded into the countryside. “Villa degli Amorini” seemed an innocuous building, well-kept even. The facade was modern, painted in warm colors, the windows were polished, the portico was made of pink granite. The large porphyry courtyard was lit by old, but solid and bright, street lamps.

Roberto rang the intercom, but no one answered. He waited about a minute, and then rang again.

Another two minutes passed, and Roberto was putting his hand to the button to summon a third trill, when there was a click and a nasal voice through the speaker inquired: “And who are you supposed to be?”

In the background there were noises, shouts and objects scratching on the floor.

“I’m the new one, Roberto. Your director offered me a job last night,” Roberto explained.

“Move your ass, because the shift is starting in five minutes,” the voice replied acidly.

With a creak the lock of the gate was released, and Roberto was allowed to enter. He crossed the courtyard gingerly, and looked beyond the glass doors of the entrance. The shadow seemed to reign supreme in the hall of “Villa degli Amorini”. Roberto innocently pushed one of the two doors, and the wail of a siren made him jump. The door was alarmed, so he quickly closed it behind him, hoping it would calm down. And so it did.

Relieved, Roberto ventured into the dark room. There was not a soul at the desk. There was, however, a small wooden door ajar along one of the walls, beyond which a disorganized commotion could be heard. Roberto grabbed the handle, and pushing it asked: “Can I?”

The moment his phalanges crossed the threshold of that new environment, they began to shrink and stick together, fusing and taking on a greenish color. He couldn’t hold back a cry of astonishment, but Roberto nevertheless advanced, his forearm and upper arm visibly shortening. When his face passed through the magic door, he noticed that his nose was expanding, turning into a green, sharp, porous extension. As his spine arched forward into a kyphotic hump, his mind went blank and was crossed by incomprehensible rage, by an uncontrollable desire to smash bottles and stab warm flesh. His feet, the last to cross the threshold, grew larger and flatter, becoming cumbersome and difficult to move without losing balance, like a diver's fins, squeezed into sneakers that were too small.

The clothes Roberto was wearing had become immense, he was swimming in them His sweatpants were falling down and he had to hold them up with his hand, a hand that now only had three fingers, of which a barely opposable thumb.

With a sloppy gait, without worries but pissed off as a snake, Roberto wandered around in what seemed to be a closet surrounded by shelves full of medicines. There was not a soul in sight there either. He was about to proceed to the next room, when a punch landed on his temple from his blind spot. “Move, dip-nuts, there’s no time! You have to undress right now!” A high-pitched voice shouted, and a hand grabbed Roberto by the arm, yanking him back.

Roberto struggled ferociously, and turned around, slapping his attacker with his free hand. The attacker, a disgusting grayish goblinoid, grabbed his sweatshirt and shouted: “You have to get a fucking move on!”

The being was naked, so Roberto could only put his hands at his throat to strangle him, while his pants fell to the floor. They continued to fight for a couple of minutes, until a new voice reached them from the other end of the closet: “What the fuck are you doing? The shift is starting!”

“This… this… moron is… trying to kill me!” the naked goblin mumbled, now purple in his face.

“Fuck!” exclaimed the new interlocutor, a phlegmy green goblin, and grabbed one of Roberto’s arms, tearing it off the gray goblin’s neck. The latter was finally free and grabbed the other limb that Roberto was waving like a madman. Together the two beings dragged Roberto away, who was unable to put up any resistance.

They violently threw him into an empty locker room, accompanied by an order: “Don’t even try to get out of there until you’re naked as a worm!”

The forced transport had given Roberto a chance to let off some of that innate anger, and he was starting to feel like he was in control of himself again. For this reason, at the idea of stripping off all his clothes he felt a certain embarrassment. But what other choice did he have?

He noticed, lowering his pants again, that his genitals had disappeared, leaving only the small hole of his urethra. He kicked off his tight shoes and realized that in fact the contact of the soles of his feet with the ground and of his green skin with the air gave him relief. Despite his initial uncertainty, he had to admit that his nakedness seemed the most natural thing in the world and was making him feel free. He also took off his sweatshirt and threw it haphazardly on a bench. Then, slapping the tiles with his flat feet, he headed for the door of the changing room and emerged triumphant.

The gray goblin had remained waiting for him and all hasty he took him by the hand again, shouting: “Come on, come on, come on! I'll take you to the superintendent, she has to give you your duties!”

This time Roberto let himself be led without resistance, and after walking down a couple of bare corridors crowded with a dozen goblin colleagues, they found themselves in front of a door that bore the sign “management”. The gray goblin knocked vehemently and threw him inside without waiting for an answer.

In the office there was an immense walnut desk filled with files and paperwork, inconceivably tall for a little goblin like Roberto, and behind it loomed a large woman with curlers and tacky makeup drawn on her square face.

“Who the fuck are you now?” the superintendent asked, giving Roberto a single glance as she was busy scribbling on her paperwork.

“Rob… Robè… Rober… tò!” was all Roberto could manage, even though he wanted to give a much more thorough explanation. He wanted to say that it was a pleasure, that he was a new employee, that it was his first night, and then a whole series of questions and a couple of jokes. But his vocal cords rebelled against her orders.

“Oh, of course. You’re new. From now on, your name will be G379. You’ll be in charge of the women’s section, on the third floor. Do what the others do and everything will go smooth as water,” the superintendent explained.

Roberto nodded, and ran out, shimmying. Then, after wandering aimlessly down the corridor looking for a way to reach the third floor, he noticed a flight of stairs around a corner. He tried to climb them as fast as possible, and by the time he reached his destination he was out of breath. In front of him, while he was breathing heavily and leaning on the railing, an elevator door opened and four goblins came out and looked at him with disapproval. Their looks seemed to want to say: “why didn’t this idiot take the elevator?”

One of the four goblins, more massive than the others and brownish in color, stepped forward and asked: “Are you new? What’s your call sign?”

“G379,” Roberto replied confidently, amazed at the clarity of his voice and at the fact he had managed to remember his registration number so clearly.

“Good. So you belong on this floor. All the ‘three hundred’ belong on this floor. I am G307, and they are G323, G345 and G357. Let’s go put the old ladies to sleep!” G307 rubbed his hands together, and there was a sadistic note in his voice. He was advancing at the head of the gang and seemed to be their leader. Roberto happily fell in line with his colleagues.

Together they burst into a large recreation room where about thirty old ladies were gathered. Some were sitting on armchairs at the edge of the room, others were in wheelchairs, a couple were spinning in circles and four were playing “Burraco” at a table. Seven of them were engrossed in a soap opera on TV, while one last one, ignored by everyone, was screaming at the top of her lungs, over and over again: “I want to die! Take me away! I want to die! Take me away!”

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“Come on! Come on! Let’s go to bed!” G323 shouted, and took a broom leaning against the wall by the brush side, and started banging it on the floor to get everyone’s attention.

The screaming old lady approached G323, continuing her noisy chant: “I want to die! Take me away!”, and G323, in response, hit her in the face with a stick. “Don’t you understand Eleonora?! Go to bed!” G323 shouted. Eleonora didn’t fall, but started running like a chicken chased by a fox. Six or seven other old ladies joined her and started screaming and running anarchically around the large room.

G345 and G357 also followed G323's example: the first one picked up a metal fork from a table, the second one took the walking stick from a poor and unfortunate woman, and together they started chasing the grannies, slashing and lunging, until they were all pushed back into the corridor.

G307 turned off the television, and announced dramatically: "The show is over! Go to bed!"

The spectators complained a little with low murmurs, but G307 started shouting and gesticulating until they all got up and headed to their rooms. Then, the brown goblin turned to Roberto: "G379, help me carry those in wheelchairs!"

After the request, G307 got behind one of the ladies in wheelchairs, and started running, pushing her. He went straight into the corner of a door, hitting the poor woman's knee, who started screaming. Nonchalantly G307 backed up, took better measurements, and launched himself into his mad dash again.

Roberto, with a hint of apprehension, turned to another old lady in a wheelchair, and asked her: “Mah… dame… which room… your room?”

“Oh, what a kind little gentleman you are! I’m in room 311,” the lady replied.

After struggling for a few moments with the wheelchair’s brakes, Roberto was able to get it moving. With incredible slowness, controlling it with difficulty, Roberto began to push it across the entire corridor of the floor and arrived at room 311. He entered but realized that both beds were occupied. He turned to the old lady who looked at him with dazed eyes. Roberto left her there, in the room, and shouted to G323 who was passing by, carrying another old lady in a wheelchair: “Hey! This one told me she’s in room 311, but the beds are already full!”

Strangely enough, communicating with the other goblins was easy for him.

G323 braked suddenly, and the old woman was almost thrown from her chair. The sudden deceleration made her scream in terror. Nonchalantly G323 left her in the middle of the corridor and went to help G379. After peering into room 311, he said: “Hey, that’s Ginevra! She’s out of her mind, don’t believe anything she says. Her room is 314!”

Roberto then set off again and reached room 314, on the other side of the corridor. Indeed, one of the two beds was free. So he placed Ginevra in front of the cot, stood in front of her and lifted her up, placing his arms under her armpits. However, he didn’t expect to be lifting such a huge weight, and Ginevra fell on top of him, crushing him under her on her mattress. Under Ginevra’s bulk, Roberto felt himself soaked by a warm, doughy material. After struggling with the dead weight of Ginevra for a good minute, Roberto managed to emerge, and immediately noticed that his bright green skin was streaked with brown.

“She shit herself!” Roberto exclaimed in disgust.

G357 poked his head in the room and replied, “Great! She hasn’t pooped in five days! Let’s leave her like this for four or five hours! Let’s soak her well!”

Obediently Roberto straightened her as best he could on her mattress, and without bothering to cover her with blankets, dashed off to fetch another granny from the recreation room.

When he arrived, still covered in feces, there wasn’t much left to do. Only the burraco ladies remained, and G323 was already taking care of them. The goblin bellowed, “Enough! You’ve played enough! Go to bed!”

One of the old ladies, a rebel, retorted, “No. We haven’t finished the game yet.”

Deaf to her protests, still holding the broomstick, G323 began banging it on the floor and yelling, “Go to bed! Go to bed! Go to bed!”

The other three old ladies gave in, put their cards on the table and stood up, but the rebel did give no shit. She remained there, with the cards in her hand, looking at the goblin defiantly.

“Are you deaf, Genoveffa? Are you deaf?!” G323 shouted.

Genoveffa stood up and faced G323, towering over him menacingly. Without warning, the old lady gave the goblin an extremely athletic kick in the face, which made him fly away, crashing into the blue wallpaper on the wall. The being stood up gasping, and hissed: “Fuck you! You fucking bitch! You take care of her, G379!” before leaving the room gesticulating and cursing in anger.

Roberto felt quite intimidated by the new task. He absolutely did not want to end up like G323. So he approached Genoveffa very cautiously, and fearfully began: “So… ma’am… please, it’s time to sleep… please, go to bed.”

“You’re covered in shit,” was Genoveffa’s stinging response.

“I know ma’am, I know,” Roberto replied with tears in his eyes, “but it’s my first day… why do you have to cause problems ma’am? There’s no one left to spend time with here…”

“I know it’s your first day, you idiot. But why should I listen to you? You’re here by choice, I’m not. Do your job and make me go to bed, if you’re capable!” Genoveffa exclaimed defiantly.

“Ma’am, I need money. I don’t want to stay here covered in shit either… but I have no choice,” Roberto fended off.

Confronted with such a pathetic little being, Genoveffa grunted and headed for the door. Looking back, the woman observed: “I pity you, hitting you would not give me any satisfaction. If you have come this far, you must have fallen very low in your life, like all those who work here. Unlike them, however, you seem aware of the shit you do. And if oblivion towards your condition does not shield you, you are as desperate as I am.”

Left alone in the recreation room, Roberto sighed with relief. He had not been beaten. How bitter, however. The old woman was right. He was truly humiliating himself for a handful of euros.

G307 did not give Roberto much time to brood and feel sorry for himself. He burst into the room shouting: “G379, what the fuck are you doing? Are you slacking off?! We have to clean up!”

G323, G345 and G357 had prepared five buckets full of gray water with as many mops inside. G345 was urinating inside his bucket from the little hole in the lower part of his belly.

“Why does he piss in it?” Roberto asked G307.

“To give this floor its unmistakable smell! He marks our territory!” G307 replied, as if he were stating the obvious.

The goblins took longer than expected to wash the floors. They entered every single room, making a racket, slipping on the floor in their own urine, and stirring up every single drowsy old lady.

Around three in the morning it was time to carry out the next task. Taking the vital signs of their guests. However, all five of them were clumsy and slow. They put the cuff on the wrong way, took the blood pressure three or four times, the machine didn’t show any. Then they squeezed the cuff with their three fingers, thinking that by doing so the machine would succeed in its task. Of course, another error message was delivered. Finally they managed to get the three desired values of systolic pressure, diastolic and heart rate, and wrote them down haphazardly on a grid, often next to the wrong name. In any case, for them those were meaningless numbers, and they didn't understand whether they were good or bad.

Around five o’clock it was time to change the diapers and empty the bladder catheter bags. No asses were properly wiped and no urine volume was recorded. But Roberto was now aware that their goal was meaningless. The important thing was to achieve the side effect: to wake the old women again, irrigate them with cold water, and punish them if they complained.

Before Roberto had a single moment to relax, it was six in the morning. The shift was over.

The other goblin colleagues gathered in the cafeteria on floor -1 for breakfast, but Roberto, dirty as he was, did not feel like going. Exhausted, he slipped into the locker room and treated himself to a long, hot, purifying shower. He remained under the jet of boiling water and steam for a long time to wash away the disgusting humors that had impregnated his skin. His sense of smell was now completely insensitive, but he did not want any trace of that evening to remain on him when he regained his human form. He soaped himself up and rinsed himself obsessively until he felt his fingers wrinkled.

Finally Roberto got out of the shower, dried himself, put on the tracksuit he had arrived in, still too large, and went to the entrance.

Passing through the glass doors of the hall, Robertò underwent a metamorphosis inverse to the one he had undergone at the entrance. His fingers separated, his back straightened, his skin returned to its natural pink color.

The most shocking change, however, occurred in his mind. It was as if his thoughts were unrolling, starting from a compact cube of folded paper, to form a complex origami. The memories of the previous hours still weighed on him, but they seemed unreal, dreamlike. An out-of-body experience: it was as if he had seen himself from the outside while he committed inhuman atrocities against defenseless old ladies.

Perhaps that was simply a defense mechanism of his psyche. Considering himself a stranger to the disgusting actions he had unmistakably committed, isolating them in that drawer of his memory where he buried his nightmares, perhaps he would have been able to move forward, day after day.

Under the red sky of dawn, in the courtyard of “Villa degli Amorini”, as he headed for the gate, Roberto took a cigarette from the pack and lit it, then smoked it greedily.

He was wrong. He was wrong indeed. Whether he remembered it as a dream or as reality, the horrible deeds that had been committed could not be erased.