Home > Musings of a Decorative Ham Man > Musings of a Decorative Ham Man

Musings of a Decorative Ham Man

By Chris Vitiello

By Chris Vitiello

The Vitiello name that graces the packaging of every decorative ham is an ancient one.

I have traced the Vitiello’s with ease back to the famed reign of Pirrapods. Many were chandlers, house men, makers of some boats. And before that, they were to be found living on the island of La Hardy, where they flourished as builders of great but senseless stone walls.

During the Lankvillian Restoration, there was Adolphus Vitiello, a respected cleric. But the name devolved after Adolphus and generation after generation produced nothing but halfwits, teethless men and the very short. And these inferiors, in turn, married other inferiors and the pool became murky and darkness descended over the name for over three hundred years.

The past century produced my great-grandfather, Randy, a drunken repairer of sashes. It is said that he was last seen vomiting into his own hat while pushing an island prostitute into a rented hut. My grandfather, known affectionately as “The Elk” but also sometimes as “Excrement”, disappeared into a small hole. And my father. You know already about him.

These men of the past century married equally despicable women. They were of no consequence and should have been whipped mercilessly.

But now the name is enjoying a rebirth. It is to be seen on millions of decorative hams all over Lankville.

And this is the sign of greatness.

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