Below is a story inspired by the irony of being "conciati per le feste"—a phrase that can mean both "all dressed up" and "thoroughly wrecked."

"You really did it, Elio," Sergio said, handing him a cup. "You’re properly conciato per le feste now."

Elio had spent weeks on a ladder, his fingers numb, stringing ten thousand LED bulbs across his roof. His goal was simple: he wanted his house to be the only thing visible from a low-orbit satellite. Sergio, on the other hand, had opted for a single, massive, inflatable Santa Claus that shook with a violent, motorized cough every time the wind blew.

By the evening of the Great Reveal, the entire town had gathered. Elio stood with a remote control in his hand, looking, as the locals said, conciato per le feste —he was wearing a suit made of green velvet with actual bells sewn into the seams. He looked like a Christmas tree that had gained sentience and a mortgage. "Watch this, Sergio," Elio hissed, pressing the red button.