Once upon a time there was a guy who was not afraid of anything in the world. So they called him Giovanino the Fearless. Once, while wandering around the world, he walked into an inn and asked to spend the night. “We don’t have room,” says the owner, “but if you’re not timid, I’ll show you the way to the castle.”
- Why be afraid!
- There are voices... no one left there alive. I myself have seen more than once how in the morning a funeral procession heads to the castle with a coffin for the brave man who dared to spend the night there.

Metelitsa-Borea wanted to get married. She flew to Sirocco - the south wind - and said: - Don Sirocco, would you like to marry me?
But Sirocco didn’t even think about marriage. He loved a free life. Now he flies to Africa, now he flies over the sea - what does he need a wife for? So he replied: “Eh, Donna Borea, when two poor people get married, they don’t get richer.” I have nothing, and you are not rich in dowry.

Once two friends met. We turned into a tavern, sat down at a table and ordered a glass of wine.
“Eh,” the first one spoke, “it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” And during this time I happened to visit Naples. I saw so many things along the way that I stopped being surprised. But once I was still surprised. I was walking along the road, and suddenly I saw a drum. Huge-enormous! I barely walked around it in three days. And a village is built on the drum. When the inhabitants of this village drive their cattle out to pasture, the hooves of the cows beat out such a sound that it can be heard for five hundred miles.

Once upon a time he lived in the small Italian town of Grassano... no, not an evil wizard. There lived a cheerful road worker, Mario Costa, in Grassano. He worked all day under the scorching southern sun, building a highway to the village of Irsina. And on Sunday, Mario got on his old bicycle and climbed high into the mountains.

One day night found Mario at the very top of the mountain, and he decided to spend the night in a small grotto on the bank of the Bilioso River.

Once upon a time there lived a shoemaker with a big, big hump. He had seven sons. Their names were Perrotto, Gianotto, Rinaldotto, Erminotto, Arrigotto, Ambrogiolotto and little Peppy.
But. And seven more daughters. Their names were Ninetta Giletta, Jovanetta, Ermellinetta, Lauretta, Gelisetta and little Catellina.
Just count - seven and seven, that will be fourteen children. How many legs do these children have? Wow, a whole twenty-eight. How many shoes do you need? Do you think twenty-eight? No matter how it is. Have you counted the shoemaker and his wife? The whole family needs thirty-two shoes. That's how much!

Once upon a time there lived a poor young man. One day he says to his mother:
- I’ll go, mom, to travel around the world. In our village they won’t even give me a dry chestnut. What good will come of me here? I'm going to seek my happiness! Look, joyful days will come for you too, mom.
He said - and went on his way. He reached a city and began to wander the streets. He sees an old woman trudge up the mountain, carrying two large buckets of water on a yoke, and she can barely breathe. The young man approached the old woman:
-Give me, grandma, I’ll carry the water, it’s not good for you to carry such a burden.

One woman had a very tall and gluttonous daughter. When her mother gave her soup, she ate plate after plate and asked for more and more. And the mother poured it for her, poured it and said:
- Three four five...
And when it got to seven, the mother gave her daughter a strong slap on the head and shouted:
- Here's seven for you!
One day a rich young man passed by their house. He saw through the window a mother beating her daughter, saying:
- Here you are seven, here you are seven!.. He liked the tall beauty. He entered the house
and asked:
- Seven? What seven?..

Once upon a time there lived a foal of a donkey. He had no name, because he was only three days old and his owner had not yet had time to come up with a name for him. The donkey was very cheerful, very curious and constantly poked his nose where it was needed and where it was not needed.
On the fourth day of his life, he was walking around the yard and saw a small hole in the sand. This seemed very strange to the donkey. He spread his hooves wider, leaned over and smelled what it smelled like. Suddenly a terrible monster jumped out of the sand - a round belly, many, many paws, and everyone was reaching for the donkey! It was a spider beetle, an antlion, sitting in a sandy hole, waiting for the ants. The foal, of course, is not an ant, but still he got scared and screamed at the top of his lungs.
His owner came running to the cry. He saw what was happening and began to laugh.

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The slopes of the hill where Pocapalla was located were so steep that the residents tied bags under the tails of the chickens so that the eggs, as soon as they were laid, would not roll down into the bushes.

Therefore, the inhabitants of Pokapalya were not at all, as is commonly believed, sleepy fools, and the saying:

It is known what kind of people are in Pokapalje:

There the donkey whistles, and the owner roars, -

was a cruel joke from their neighbors. The Pocapalese people were meek people and did not like to quarrel with anyone.

Yes, yes,” they usually answered, “just wait, Mazino will return, then we will hear who roars louder, us or you.”

Mazino, the favorite of the neighborhood, was the most lively of all. Pokapalli. Judging by his appearance, Mazino would not have been given a soldo, but he was very cunning. When the boy was born, his mother seemed so weak that she decided to bathe him in warm wine - this would give him strength. To heat the wine, the father put a red-hot horse shoe in it. And so Mazino perceived with his whole body the subtlety of the wine and the hardness of the iron. After bathing, his mother put a green chestnut shell in his cradle, the bitterness of which gave Mazino a sharp mind.

And just at the time when the inhabitants of Pocapallia were waiting for Masino's return - and he had not been seen since he had gone into the army and was now probably fighting in Africa - strange things began to happen in Pocapallia. Every evening, when the herd returned from the valley to the stables, the witch Michillina stole the cattle. Usually she hid in the bushes near the village, and it was enough for her to blow for an entire ox to disappear. When, after sunset, the peasants heard rustling noises in the bushes, they were out of fear and fell down as if they had been knocked down. Here's how it's said:

Witch of Michillina

Steals cows from the valley.

He will look at you with a crooked eye,

And, like a dead man, you fall at once.

The peasants were in a hurry to light large fires by nightfall so that Michillina would not dare to leave the bushes. But the witch silently approached some fire and put the peasant guarding the cows to sleep with her breath, and in the morning he found neither cows nor oxen, and others heard him crying and sobbing, beating himself on the head with his fists.

Then they began to scour the bushes, looking for traces of animals, but found only tufts of hair, hairpins and footprints left here and there by the witch Michillina.

No one dared to drive the cattle out to pasture anymore, no one dared to go into the forest, and the mushrooms there grew huge, like umbrellas, because no one picked them.

This went on for many months, and the cows, all the time locked in the barns, became so emaciated that they were no longer cleaned with a comb, but with a rake, the teeth of which passed freely between the ribs.

The witch Michillina did not go to other villages to steal cattle. She knew well that nowhere were there such quiet, gentle people as in Pokapalye.

Every evening these poor peasants lit a huge fire in the village square, the women and children locked themselves in their houses, and the men stood near the fire, scratching their heads and lamenting. They scratched their heads and lamented for a day, scratched their heads and lamented for another, and finally decided that they should go ask the count for help.

The count lived on the mountain in a round castle behind a stone wall strewn with broken glass.

One Sunday morning, the peasants came there, crumpling their hats in their hands, knocked, and the gate opened. Entering the courtyard, they found themselves in front of a round house with closed windows and many bars. The count's soldiers were sitting in the courtyard, smearing their mustaches with lard to make them shine, and looking angrily at those who came.

And in the depths of the courtyard, on a velvet chair, sat a count with a long, very long black beard, which four soldiers combed with four combs.

The oldest peasant plucked up courage and said:

Signor, we dared to come to your honor to tell us about our misfortune. Our cattle, which graze in the forest... the witch Michillina steals them... - So, with sighs and complaints, with the help of other peasants who encouraged him with gestures, the old man spoke about their life, full of fear. The Count was silent.

And so we dared to come here,” he continued, “to ask your lordship for help, because if your lordship deigns to send us soldiers to guard us, we will be able to drive the cattle out to pasture.

The Count shook his head.

If I send soldiers,” he said, “I will have to send a captain with them.”

The peasants listened with timid hope.

But if I don’t have a captain,” the count continued, “then who will I play lotto with in the evening?”

The peasants fell to their knees.

Help us, Signor Count, be merciful!

The soldiers standing around yawned lazily and continued to smear their mustaches with lard.

The Count shook his head again and said:

I am a count, but the truth is only in the count’s answer:

I haven’t seen a witch, and she doesn’t exist at all.

At these words, the soldiers, without ceasing to yawn, took their guns and, with bayonets at the ready, slowly moved towards the peasants in order to clear the yard of them.

The confused men returned to the square. Now they didn’t know what to do at all. Then the oldest of them, the one who had spoken to the count, exclaimed:

We need to call Mazino!

They wrote a letter and sent it to Masino in Africa. And then one day, when they, as usual, gathered around the fire, Mazino appeared on the square. Well, as usual, there are greetings, hugs, pots of wine heated with spices, and questions: “Where have you been?” and “What did you see?” and “Do you know how unhappy we are?!” Mazino listened carefully to everyone, and then spoke himself:

In Africa I have seen cannibals who cannot eat people and therefore feed on cicadas; in the desert I saw one madman who grew his nails twelve meters long in order to get to the water; in the sea I saw a fish that had a shoe and a shoe, it wanted to become the queen of other fish, because no other fish had either a shoe or a shoe; in Sicily I saw a woman who had seventy children and only one saucepan; in Naples I saw people wandering along the road because the gossip of those around them was pushing them forward; I saw a lot of black people and a great number of white people; I’ve seen enough of timid people, but this is the first time I’ve seen people as cowardly as in Pokapalye.