was enough to shoot himself, dammit. To get his head on the tracks. Security had been the Noelia, the hypocrite that he was always kicking a hornet's nest. I was already down here in the Noelia, which had to stick his nose where it was called! When she had sent anonymous, that was fixed, and now had to walk Yola throwing thunder, give the board to kill and waiting until he got to pop the head of a belly flop, and would have called the mother and the old I would be warming the ear, I would be saying he was a drone, an avid hummingbird and the whole bunch of antiques that he would repeat. Had to think what to say to his wife, had to find a lie that would save the hide, and urgent (micro that had already climbed Rivadavia), but how to concentrate if the brunette who had risen from the front seats are well deserved if I took a look, and now that looked better, deserved more than that.
came from the side, flying through the tangle of people who filled the bus, pushing the body to break through and watch her cleavage rates, suddenly bent down a little and peered out the windows as if lost, but he did not swallow this pill: the brunette knew well that he needed to download a century, and yet they were crouching, followed by hesitation seams of the skirt because he was pleased that a portion of Buenos Aires arches its to look at his ass, and how nice ass had two stops and still not touch timbre, if not down at Castro Barros was a post I was looking for war, and thus one could not concentrate on what he had to tell the Yola, least the kid in the front seat, a freckled face coloradito oval, a quail egg with a wig that two of three turned around to get language. I had thought not buy flowers at least!, But if you think, fall on his wife with a gift would mean acknowledging that he was off side, then it would be best to get as usual and hit a kiss and a hug but what was going to hit you hug? if the Yola had to walk made a thistle, "Do not touch me junk, I would say," Gather your things and means, let's go ", and the old would look to that side of beef eating chewing gum and he would release" You has sought mijito; go away to tease the other, that enough damage has already done this. " Old lampalagua, twenty years supporting that screws onto him their secrets, twenty long years waiting for death to take her away for good, but look what the black turra: Barros Castro had spent two stops and still not come down, "God, I swear that if I leave this, not to put the horns back to Yola. " I wish I could know what the anonymous said, she would know what to expect, but had been adamant Yola, "came a letter and I want you to come urgently," he had said only that when he spoke by telephone, and nervous tone left no doubt of I was determined to give the crack. Was pretty fucked be the thing for the Yola call him to the agency. Felt like jumping down from a train. Security had been the Noelia, this hypocrite. There was no alternative to get out: with the idiot coloradito sacándole language was impossible to think. The brunette had finally touched down and now ring on one side, and behind him, looking at the boots that disappeared under her skirt, boots shaped like Argentina, so high that it would tickle in Upper Peru. Lampalagua old, twenty years waiting for death to take her away for good, and in that eternity had not taken even this sympathy to the old, because the thing right from the start cubs had been wrong: the day the Yola said he was going to marry him, the old let go "Ha! Linda Cross has decided to go into the shoulder, mija, "and the party was crying as if it were buried instead of wedding, and had walked from table to table whispering" If only I were a decent man ... "as if being an artist is not decent, dammit, but the old woman had been dogged in that work was something else, and so I had gotten this job in an office of a pimp you the gift. How right he was when he told his father that the mother is like the blade tip, which is more advantage when underground. The brunette was standing on a pilchería and while looking at the window lit a cigarette. He was throwing a hook, any excuse was good to start a dialogue, give me fire, I say the time, but not because the Yola would be waiting and because he had sworn to God, and yet the blood that could, had need for this body to put another name on the list of bow traps, and also when the agency began to manufacture the poison had to drop it or yes to not die poisoned. Asked fire, and when I returned the cigarette, "Do not you mind if I ask some advice?". The brunette raised his eyebrows and pulled the bag, he hastened to say that it was the birthday of a friend and would like to give her clothes, "but I fashion half and half did you see?" Which will advise her that was good taste, and her "What do you know?" and there it was standing on, everything was a matter of tact, had to say it was clear there was good attention to detail combine the shadow of the eyelids with the beige blouse, and now that the black eyes lit up, even rescue the arch of the eyebrows and things like that, because the secret was to repair where they invest many hours of mirror and black and was going through the window and advised him a scarf and notice you do idea, a blue scarf, "Barbaro, is more original than a skirt and I can not fuck shit up at the waist" and the brunette enchanted. Had to take his arm, asking to enter to try on the scarf and pulled gently but firmly, and invented a black face plate was a surprise, but plin box, the rest was a formality, because the scarf had to buy it as a gift when you leave the hotel. He invited her to a cafe, "Look, you're a nice guy but", but nothing, because he was a public man, "I Dardo San Román, singer" and she died for her songs, "Especially for that ... What do you call that love ...?", contraband would it?, Yes, that was. The brunette sat the bag and the brightness of an alliance by the belt slipped. Married the black ... And told his father that a woman is like a hen, "Stop eating corn to go eat shit." Then there was bound to take coffee, all with careful matching hypocrisy, and finally put a face mangy dog \u200b\u200bto speed the way to bed. Luxury hotel because it was payday and the black was worth it. Blue Room dimmer lights on the bedside table the image of Christ with outstretched arms identical to one that Yola was crucified with bugs in the kitchen. He put up the package with the scarf so that Christ does not see naked. And that was the black cat, while the Yola would walk made a lion, the black bit her lips, bite Yola elbows, he pricked the conscience, the old woman asking to be separated Yola, asking him God that could resist the black asking him to wait, it better if they relaxed with a bath, which first him and then she was ashamed together. A shower without a word, because a mine infatuated love does mean machine. When he opened the rain the black was just wondering how many discs had been sold, "Twenty thousand plates in four months," and yes, it was good twine, labels were removed eyes for a record. And then there was a long silence, a distant sound of a lift and a fight with the cops, the water too hot and too cold soon, and when finished showering and drying and returned to the room, the black was gone . He checked his pockets but did not need to, if there where there should be a package with a scarf, was the Christ alone, staring at him with his face at all, saying "I was the oldest, Superman, they spend every day on the news. " I had threaded the black this! He had shown that in the theater of the jerks he sat in the front row. And to think that had missed the winner when the truth was I did not raise no land, Noel was the beginning and end in the list of bow traps. What would he Pajarón number in this black list? Do not fall when he said he knew if Dardo San Román did not know neither God four or five shows in a cabarutes Constitution, a couple of auditions in clandestine radio stations and a lifetime spent with that disquito doors shit that nobody wanted to produce. Already said his father ... but what the hell, if his father had never said anything, his father had been a poor devil, and he had spent his life inventing sentences like ticket to put them in your mouth. "Ticket sentences like" crying, and street people turned around. Now we had to kick up the house, tell the Yola, see the face of the old. And who could hold his gaze to the old? And the mirror? ... Because we had to accept once I was a mediocre. And how to continue loading the hump? Better to put his neck on the tracks, let the iron leg take charge.
When he reached the station Flores was getting dark. Neon lights slipping on the rails. He waited until he saw a blister on in the background of the landscape and then lay down in fetal position, his back to the locomotive. He rested his head on the road and felt the giant steps, closer, more and more giant. The long whistle of the locomotive put a stone in the stomach. "God does not want to live, do not let me escape like a rat." The bells of the level crossing was announced the imminence of death. The ringing became more stubborn, the earth shook, the giant continued to grow, honking cars had coupled from the level crossing, some people bitched, many of whom shouted that he saved, "do not let me escape like a rat, Lord." When we reached the light of the machine closed his eyes, and then could hear the mechanical noise of the engine, the complaint detailed some car, the turning of the wheel that would cut off his head and was too much. But when he pulled up he felt his neck. Then he realized: God would not allow to escape like a rat. He caught the sweater in one of the bolts that secured the rail to land. He struggled to escape, but the lack of space would not let him break the tissue. The mechanics of the train was monopolized everything. He thought of taking off sweater but a final beep neck ruffled him, "God does not want to die ...!", and when I said I was listening to their cries did not know who was crying and did not know the shame of being on top because shitting death was coming back there to give you a kick in the ass to life, and then the train passed.
routes for next happened. Looking out the window, the driver what puteaba in all languages. He looked back. Twenty meters wagons curled in a shunting yard. Stared at the tail of death went away, fingering the wool sweater, which coup had unhooked himself.
On reaching his house still shaking. From the hallway felt off the TV. La Yola and the old would be on guard: the Yola pressing the handle of the iron, the old, organizing their gestures, accommodating an eyebrow here and a corner over there to build your best face of Frankenstein.
The door should be opened in another house.
The old, curled in a chair, smiling faces of happy birthday. La Yola had been the best duds and was a bunch of strokes. And on the table, the letter, instead of an anonymous letter was a contract from EMI to record their album, With Love smuggled to the head. Without listening to the blandishments
collapsed in a chair. He looked up and faced the statue of Christ that was crucified with bugs Yola to the wall. That face of potato chip could not be the face of God. What then? It occurred to him a freckled oval face: the kid who will stick his tongue out at the mike.
More about Daniel:
http://fernandomurano.blogspot.com/2011/01/taller-literario-daniel-paredes.html
More paintings of Grace:
http://gracielabello-naif.blogspot
.com/2010/07/la-morocha.html
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