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Aldo wore dark glasses because their eyes were like glass burst, and all around swollen and red, like an allergy. Those eyes must have been so from one day to another. I can not imagine a process of Allergy and eyes pop, to the point of Aldo. In fact it should be possible. But knowing the history of Aldo, I think it was the day his life as a driver hit the windshield of the car, when his eyes were like that. And he had no time to wipe the blood that was in the mouth, or given the time to explain to his wife, who watched as police took him away, as the car drove away, and she was standing at the door the hall looking at him, still in disbelief everything in a couple of minutes had passed through his eyes. Aldo was
scammer. He did really well. The day after that round out her business, she told anyone the details of the scam, sipping a glass of whiskey. That and wearing dark glasses, but I did not want to be recognized. Many people will want to paste, and some also wanted to see dead.
His wife never visited him in jail. He only sent a few letters, Aldo said, but she did not read. Her son did go to visit him. But he gradually lost the habit. Aldo was in prison, but if he was, then I would have to pay many bills, and easier to see escape from the prison to escape from this situation. Therefore, Aldo were forced to feel comfortable in jail. But there was a time when he had to leave. One can not be in jail long as you want.
left the prison wearing a shirt with the top button undone and no tie, a gray jacket and dark trousers. Before leaving put on his glasses. He looked at the sky, the ground floor, dry grass, and finally checked his suit and took a deep breath. He called his wife. Then
Aldo and his wife were in a bar. She and him having a drink whiskey. As in the old days, only instead of having their scams round, there was a silence, which neither was uncomfortable because his wife had nothing to say, and Aldo took the opportunity to think about how to start the conversation. They spent a few minutes. Agreed. And Jesus is? "He asked. His wife responded instantly, as if he felt more comfortable with silence. While working, he said. He lit a cigarette and offered one to his wife, who declined. Fire the waiter asked. Deep breath and faked twice before starting a conversation.
- I suppose you know the problems that I am, "
- Half the city wants to kill you," replied his wife using the same tactics as the question about your child. Aldo imagined a angry mob advancing towards him, and smiled, but little, not take the environment into the conversation.
"Oh, I bought this watch .- Jesus said, and pulled out a digital clock that marked the time. "I miss
batteries, no?
"Yes, I think so. Unless it is broken. I do not think. I bought it from a guy in a trade.
-Aha.
Silence. The waiter served a steak with mashed potatoes on the table behind the wife of Aldo.
"And your mother is? - Aldo drank whiskey and asked for the bill to the waiter. He realized that his wife was bland as ever. He remembered his wife's cooking, when Jesus was still a boy, and was having the same expression a few friends. But this time it came to a head, not even answered the question, relieved that her husband had already asked for the account. She put the bag to leave. Aldo
While putting on his coat and his wife looked at her reflection in a mirror that was in the back of the bar, the two thought the same thing: "What would Aldo now." I had no money, no job, no family support. Only had a couple of poor devils who wanted to kill him. She thought of Aldo in the coming weeks lying in a hotel room, staring at the ceiling with the remote control in hand. In shirt and pants, with pants hanging on a chair. Aldo simply could not imagine anything. It came into his mind the image of angry people coming at him with rakes and torches. I smile back, feeling half confused.
The two left the bar. Aldo to one side, his wife for the other. They greeted only with a goodbye. When he reached the corner he realized he had stopped the clock for your child. Turned around, entered the bar, saw the clock on the table, put it on. Checked the time. It was agreed that lacked batteries.
left the bar.

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conductive legs separate the gold

The friend of my father that I was daft out one day to hunt.
He went to a field where he always went and got his shotgun.
was fat, his mouth and stuck to the inside and a straw hat.
The last time I saw him was when I was in my father's red truck.
He was with the straw hat, a plaid shirt and a enterito.
Then when I started the truck looked back as his figure was going away.
I understood why he did not look back. No waved or anything.
He stood with his legs apart, touching his cheek.
Then he went hunting on a Wednesday no one was working.
My father said he was a danger he hunts alone. It
he saw something moving among the bushes and fired and felt a scream.
then ran behind the bushes and there was a black man lying on the floor, shaking.
The black sweat a lot and had his blue shirt covered in blood.
The friend of my father was looking for a while. I did not understand what happened. But he was not quite right.
The black screaming asking for help. A cry that mingled with white teeth, full lips, brown eyes, sweat and a lot of blood.
The friend of my father looked at him trembling tongue with every scream, and then looked at his blood, and realized he did not feel anything right.
It started to get dizzy, had nausea until he vomited. Vomited
above blue shirt full of black blood. And vomited again, and finally spit until her mouth was fairly dry.
deep breath through your mouth. I was sweating a lot too.
knees, looked up at the sun that covered the whole scene, and dazzled him. Supported
fat sweaty hands on the grass, then passed them by its lack of gray hair, leaving it covered with dirt, weeds and grass and some ant.
The cry of black was quitting to become a groan and then a sob.
my father's friend did not know what to do. He stopped trying to balance. I was still dizzy. Then he took off his shirt and put it over the dying man and began to mourn. And started asking to please not die, but black was dying, and the friend of my father, with their big eyes bulging, did not know what to do.
cried and cried loudly, it made the situation uncontrollable.
decided it best to leave the place and forget everything.
And among the major weeds and bushes started walking, looking back every so often, and wiping her tears and runny nose with a handkerchief in the pocket of his jeans.
And he went away, until the dying out of sight.
then found a tree that was a little shade and pulled to rest.

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(women and monkeys II)

Analía, Adriana and Mary Virginia.
The three living alone in an apartment. Adriana
out of the bathroom.
has long hair, black and stuck to his head.
has a totally stupid and nasty smile. They sound
keys. It is Mary Virginia.
- Look what I bought! - Joyful cries.
All hands look as white as death and long fingernails, a
Take something old and wrinkled brown bag.
is a zebra print dress and a pink and green buttons glued to the sides. Analía Adriana
and shout in unison. Analía
At the same time is touching the hair.
says smiling, "I you're going to have to change a night for the gold."
With the "gold" refers to gold sequined dress. Although some already have the color of the plate. Mary Virginia
looks serious. There is an intense, short, awkward silence. Will the remembered
the "day that passed Adriana crown." That day (they say so when they talk among them) went to dance where they do every day and Adriana got drunk and, as in the department, he vomited on the gold sequin dress carrying

Analía

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The three women

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Son of the Father comes home. Father Son shall not see eleven years ago. Is 26. Son. Father has for many years. But it sure looks older than it has.
Father Son passed his messy home. Had other women after Mother. One left it in ruins. One night he was mysteriously and with it went all the savings that Father was under the mattress. That morning, when Father got up, a few days ago not shaved and went into the kitchen drawers, it was a mate and thought about anything for a long time. Then he decided he would go to the field. But he had no money to go outside. Had no money directly.
son sat at the table with checkered oilcloth. The tablecloth was stuck with bugs under the wooden table. And you could tell he had cut to fit. He noted that Father had acquired a nasty habit. Father bit his fingers all the time, pulling the skin that was falling. And when the mouth of the finger away a string of drool hung, and looked engrossed in a huge blue eyes. Father had a green visor cap, a beard of several days with parties graying brown and tanned and wrinkled skin. I had jeans and brown shoes in bad condition and a white shirt detached. He had a belly that hung over his belt.
Son: What have you been doing these years?
Father: How's your mother? Son
realized that Father was speaking from a humble tone. Of hurt for life. It was agreed there's some violent scenes when I was a kid. From his father yelled at and stuff. He preferred to remain silent. Father began to bite off a piece of skin was already red thumb. Son looked away. Towards a clock that was above the refrigerator. Could not bear to see his father biting his fingers. Then decided to say something for Father began to talk and stop this act uncomfortable.
Son: Okay. Today when I got up had gone to the fair. And when I left had not arrived. I did not see all day.
Mother Son spoke as if seeing her father every day. He realized he was not prepared to see his father. I had nothing to say. That does not inspire pity or hate or anything. Asked to go to the bathroom only make time and then leave. Went to the bathroom, looked a little tiles, toilet, washbasin. Turned on the tap. The closed, pulled the tank and left. As he left, Father was in the fridge.
Father: Want a drink?
Son: No, I have to go because I was to meet with people just now.
Son was going to the door father looked for a while before leaving. Blue eyes, great was all he could say. I felt somewhat ashamed because Son was to visit and see him in that state. Why had he gone? Why the surprise? Without notice anything? He had crossed a whole world of things with a visit to Son in which long time no thought. He opened the door. Greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.
Son lit a cigarette halfway down the block, looking tiles.

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huge blue eyes black trees

"Love is a burning thing" that girl told me once we were in a dark environment park, the trees waving leaves and small drops of rain wetting our frozen faces. I looked a while longer, I grabbed her hands and kissed me short, not at all intense, but reassuring. Something like a farewell. I asked if I was tense. I heard the word tense. He said he was shaking hands with force, then I realized that I had said he was tense and loosened his hands and looked for a while. His tongue was numb mine. Or maybe were the words he had told me a while before they had numbed my tongue. Then I stared at her without speaking. I always dream that at times I need to talk more than ever, I can not. And now, indeed, could not speak. My tongue was dead, and more than make the effort could not utter a word. Then she looked at me. I realized how wet it was the wall where he sat. I looked light bulbs in the fog and drizzle seemed spheres hanging from the sky. And then I looked at it, that was wearing a striped shirt under his sweater. Then she smiled her smile that was not deep nor so lovely, but it was her smile, but gave me another kiss on the cheek and walked away. I stared until he turned to leave the park. The only sound was the wind and the black trees collide. I leaned a thing I had read that after we become human loneliness. And I thought that until now had thought of me all the time. But as when a burr is turned to a shirt, the idea of \u200b\u200bself, loneliness and the black sky and the gray clouds, I could not loosen the head until I fell asleep in my house and dreamed of nothing. Teo

Can Any One Go To A Fashion Show

Everything was an excuse

the clown was putting his things in a small leather bag I had. That kept the balloons, a magic wand, a ball and stuff. Now he was taking the gloves and then rubbed his hand across his forehead. He closed his briefcase and went to the door where he hoped the boy's mother. While doing the walk every Chiquilines touched him and beat him and we talked and hugged. Thank you very much for everything, "said the boy's mother's birthday. He looked at the body and then, without making any gesture, said nothing and greeted with a handshake. He walked by a small passage of stones that was among the front yard of the house. It was four o'clock in the afternoon and had another party at half past five. It was very hot, and gave him time to go have a drink at a bar near the house of the party.
was makeup and nose like a red ball misplaced. Enterito had an overly broad blue nylon with red patches, a wide yellow shirt too, and a muscular bottom. He walked a few blocks until he found a small wall where the enterito unbuttoned and took off the yellow jersey. Now it looked like a mechanical clown, but he felt tired clown. He lit a cigar and walked away. The sun burned his legs and his feet were in red shoes were an oven. Definitely was serious. Forgot your clown character and went to a bar he found. Hours before the party started earlier, his wife had left home. Had collected all the clothes, cosmetics and a few wigs and went with a bang by promising to go the next day to pick up things that were missing. Teodoro thought when I got everything in order and would be easier and faster things. Everything was an excuse, however, because he knew that his wife actually went with the Wizard being helper. They had met at a party and he suggested passing things work during their performances and making small choreographies. Teodoro
found a table, a chair left in his bag and yellow shirt, and in the other chair sat. He ordered a whiskey and lit another cigarette. He looked out the window. There was an ant crawling on the window and looked. Then he looked at the traffic lights in the street and coughed. He took a sip whiskey and ordered another. I had no desire to go to this birthday. For a year or so that did not feel like partying, but I needed the money, and now more than his wife had gone and had left with her four years. In the last holiday I had done was over fighting with the parents of Chiquilines, making even a scene in front of children. Happened that while the children ate something, the father argued with the clown for the money they had paid him and scream and hit a piñazo in the stomach. Teo, handicapped by his clothes, threw himself against the father and he broke a lamp. In the end he paid the costs of transport and nothing more. Now he was thinking as the guy's wife gave her husband money while I watched from the kitchen red, angry, sweating, and his shirt half unbuttoned.
ordered another whiskey and I was hitting. Looked at the clock and it was already five. In less than ten minutes had to leave, and yet risked being late. He drank whiskey, pulled the bills from his pocket and stood up. When he saw the sun Rajant out, stayed a while stopped and sat back down. He ordered another whiskey and lit another cigarette. Forget the party, Teodoro, he thought to himself and took the whiskey in one gulp. The bar had two tables occupied, one with a partner and another with a girl. A brunette with a leather jacket and dress pants. He went to the girl. He looked at her in silence. I invite you told whiskey and gave him a small smile. The woman laughed. I'd like a drunk clown for my birthday party, he said. He scratched his head. He sat down and ordered two whiskeys and asked the waiter to bring him the briefcase he had left on his table to table the girl. Looked at the girl, not bad thought. I'm ruined, he said. We all feel that way sometimes, "said the girl. He replied. No, seriously, I'm ruined. I was left without a wife and a daughter, I like my job. I'm drunk, of late, talking to a girl who does not know and missing a birthday party. Go to the bathroom, he said quickly. He drank whiskey and stopped.
went into the bathroom. It was all scratched. There was a rusty sink with a worn green soap, toilet and a mirror between machado. Peed. When it was over looked in the mirror. I just clown world, he said and smiled as he climbed the fly.

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After passing the white wooden door, unpainted, Rafael opened the fly and went outside. There were some clouds and the trail was wet because his neighbor had just cleaned there. He looked up and the sky was overcast. Then look at the tiles and then wet leaves piled on the curb. I had a beer in hand. He scratched his head and wave to your neighbor who sat on a plastic chair watching the passing cars.
Inside was the wife of Rafael. At the time was a beautiful woman, but was now overweight. Was not fat, I was just a little overweight. A Rafael did not care much. In fact, had been his wife a few years if he cared little. Shared a bed and nothing else. Inside was then his wife, and sounded "Teacher, I need you" by Elton John. I think it's a beautiful song and reflects its qualities as a composer, especially with catchy choruses, told the neighbor while taking a swig of beer. Then entered the house back to look in the fridge if I had more beer. He went to the room, opened the refrigerator and noticed red. I had a tomato, butter open an envelope with a little butter and an apple. The bottom of the fridge was a little rusty with a bottle without water. Was there a long time, but neither he nor his wife was brought forth, or stuffed. There was more beer, had to go look. He put a white shirt, looking for cigarettes and walked out.
On the way
met Peter - Peter, you going home? Will not go to see my wife, not - he laughed.
Peter laughed and kept walking. This is going to take my wife safe, asshole.
I get to the store, grabbed a pack of cans of beer, threw the bills on the table and before he left her a look at the neckline of the daughter of attending.
The relationship of Raphael and his wife had fallen about two years ago. The attending saw the store, and always, after buying the beer, the store closed a few minutes and went to the bottom, always clinging to the envelopes of flour. Whenever I came home looked in the mirror stained white pants and shook a little, just in case. One day his wife asked him why his trousers as well.
- Ni I realized that was well .- answered.
But now a month had cut its relationship with the store.
returned home. When he opened the door he heard a voice. It was Peter. I knew it was getting, he thought. He opened the heavy door, throw beer on a couch that was next to the door and went to the room.
- What does here, Maria? - I ask his wife looking directly at Peter, who was at her side holding her hand.
- What you say moron? - Angry at his wife answered.
- Peter, I left here already! I do not want to see more of this house - called out excessively.
Rafael began to walk quickly to Peter clapping and casting. Pedro waved shrink and sped out of the chair. Followed him to the door-step in a hurry and when he threw a strike back. Pedro came out screaming, knowing that the next thing that would come days of fighting with Rafael and explain that failure was sleeping with his wife. Although in fact, if I did, and ever more frequently. While Rafael picked up the store, Peter did with Maria in his crib. He dressed quickly and left.
When Peter finished out of the house, Rafael grabbed the bag from the store, pulled out a can of beer and opened it. In the living room, his wife was furious at him directly, through pursed lips and half disheveled.
- Because I view it? Prefer to be with that idiot than me. If Peter is not
but a moron, does not meet a fly - said rushing a shot of beer - You have no desire to do so now, with me, eh? Rafael
sat in the place it was Pedro. His wife ran off a smile, I run my hand around her waist and went to the room.

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There's a girl in my house. They can go look if you want.
I'm not at my house, something strange happened.
if not tell, the Borrás always been a proud family.
And if I could not say this in public,
But I played a few bucks on a stupid bet.
And I lost all, was like jumping from a hill ...
without getting hurt, but it was inevitable ...
and not under the effect of that substance jumped ...
But I did not have enough money and the girl I mortgaged the house. That
Where am I?
In a pension, broken arm.

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blue moon table with whiskey man not all

She's my girl. Skin the sun. Sea salt, the foam of the waves. With an aura that distinguishes it especially from other people. In a moment, forgetting everything else that was around in my head said, pounding the table with a smile "another beer again, Ronda" (another round of beers, Ronda). Ronda was Irish, red hair and big. With a few small eyes, hidden in a dark green iris and pupil tiny, round and black. A black so deep it seems to bare my entire existence at the same time asking me while I served, "with foam or without foam?". Obviously with little foam! Obviously with the big legs open. And obviously hitting the table. The other member of the bar on the road is a man who does not know his name, but does know the name of Ronda. Not if you're a regular customer. It has a peaked cap, blue, stained with grease. The beard of a few days, a hoarse voice fills with the smell of whiskey all over the place, always sounding fresh awake and waiting for him outside his truck. A coffee and a booster and I told the truck affectionately as his large Irish redhead. But, like all pilgrims absent, unfaithful to the customs of the Puritans payments, change your truck's red-haired Irish-84, Nuevitas tires, for a true Irish Round, which is once a week, takes a once week fights, slaps her and reconciled once a week. Or maybe a little more spacing. (At this point I realized I was a regular customer of the place) The thing is that our friend today told round the ear (but I listen because, besides being attentive, his voice echoes in the tables closest) not going to see anymore. Never Again? Never again. Went to Brazil, a division of a new cola that had left, whose label was red with a diagonal blue line and said blank, with a black border and a very striking typography "Win-Cola." Ronda did not accept. Repeated with his bad accent over and over again "What do you anymore?". And slapping the largest rate of coffee and poured it on his brown pants ironed. Ronie (apparently this was his name, or nickname) (I could decipher the cries desperately furious round) got up and looked at his coffee-stained pants, but would not say who had pissed on it. A trucker mustache, sideburns and big hair, brown everything, pissing on it. A tiger roaring in the most harrowing can be spotted in the Round dark green eyes. The look in your eyes, displaying his cold sharp blade well. Cross-cutting and eyeball slowly, enjoying the course suffering Round was not really right now. After the ceremony, Ronie pulled out some crumpled bills from his pocket and smeared it on the table with some coffee. Picked up his cigar and ran the last look at a round confused, which was already heading off the blow that he would pull Ronie. A defeated look that spoke volumes to Ronda. It was the course of things. It was the direction of the truck that led to Ronnie, arrows, signs and bars on the road. And nothing could be done. Every decision was taken coldly without thinking twice, without deciphering its potential consequences. Only remembered later in a cheap motel at night, watching the ceiling wet, dimly lit by a lapara in the light table. No pictures, no I remember nothing. Not even a proper name. Ronie, Fish, Albert or whoever.
- Keep the change, "he said as he opened the door. A Round
not stripped the sun, or foams, or an aura, or anything. Destroyed, looked at me, the customer was closest. Uncomfortable, hurried up the beer and let some bills on the table. I walked out the glass door, I walked the dirt road and just went through the truck Ronie, which mirror betrayed the first of many Irish masturbating thinking about her fat.

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Hawaii 2.0

Neon and the name of the house was everything to them. Neon pink. Dark night. Costumes white. Two detectives. Hawaii, Hawaii only. Neon pink, flowered shirts, Ray ban blacks. Dick entered the place looking at the girls who in turn looked at him. Each invited him with his eyes to his bed upholstered in leopard skin. This is my night, Dick thought, not realizing that he thought that every night. In the past the next morning with a hangover and a half empty whiskey bottle without lid near its pink satin sheets. And in the future after getting up and brushing your teeth in hideous tiled bathroom bright pink and the floor filled with small pools of water, sky and magazines cut carpets. Mark was, however, more relaxed. He had his girlfriend who loved so much as cheating. His name was Sheena, Sharon, or something. At this time of night could not remember. Just came in, the two looked directly at the bottom of the place, where his usual table. But this time was occupied. The occupant, a simple black with a gold tooth, many necklaces, a wide pink shirt tucked into his tight black pants and a buckle of a golf ball. Dick enraged and took off his glasses, looked by far the black had not noticed his presence. He felt his pockets full of dollars, markets and some pills that he had sent a psychiatrist. Poor psychiatrist, Dick was not worth studying a patient. Dick was a worm worth spit. But at this point night, our friend could not tell if I had to take the blue pill, or orange. Tuesday and Friday were blue orange?. Sheena was the girlfriend of his friend, on Tuesday, and some bitch of a white motel, cheap (but good gratuity) on Wednesdays? Whatever. The black buckle showing a golf ball rings with imitation gold and emeralds and sapphires. "I think this is our table," said Mark. And Dick got ahead, as if he wanted the lead role in this conversation, and if it cost him a red spot of blood in his impeccable white suit, did not matter. The black man looked at Nick, took a sip of your screwdriver adorned with a paper parasol and toothpicks, orange and white, and then looked at his nails perfectly cut and filed. Massaging the hands that make me in the club are excellent, thought, and then managed to say - I think that took me and my friends a long time ago - and then looked at who was at his side, also black, with face marked by a chicken pox or something, and the square hair up - Sorry, not invited to a cigarette, do you want? - And showed his gold cigarette case with the initials JB (James Bean would it be? Mark was asked to himself, as he looked awful good guard the golden flowers framing the initials). Dick looked at his face black, proud to be what it was, proud of that awful golf ball he had in his belt, and proud of the money he had. Then pulled out a red knife, and showed the black - I think change your mind, no? - Dick said showing the knife and with a wink. From time to time, the black threw the table for spreading out the screwdriver, floral arrangement and a plate of sandwiches. Mess in the room. My friends, we love these situations, and be honest with me, all we encourage from our being more chickenshit and sorry to happen. As two cars crashing in the middle of a street, police or grabbing a thief and beat him constantly. Some people looked back, other followed by dancing to a song that day had rung all day talking about on the beach while Dick, with his little blue shorts, I went tanning a girl, now, under the influence of whiskey and a few few shots of pisco, could not remember his name. Dick threw himself against the black interior drawing from his pocket a revolver. How the fuck was the name? Randy?, Sandy?, Black threw the screwdriver in the face and hit a good punch in the nose. Impact. Dick fell on the table by sticking with the edge of this in the back. Mandy? Thought unsafe. While Mark fought pathetically, as an actor, with styling black square. Dick grabbed his revolver on the floor and pointed to the pink shirt, specifically to a fold near one of the last buttons. Fired. Randy, was Rnady insurance. The black man fell to the ground after a moan and he managed to throw a knife that was down to Dick, but failed. Dick, sore, remembered the girl. She was blonde or not? Well, that matters, I have a black man who is dying in front of me. Black shit, I had stolen the table. He looked at the pathetic fight Mark and the other black and shot the ceiling. - Stop fighting and get out now! - Said angrily. - The black, who was lying on the floor, got up and ran. Mark asked, confused explanations, but he was given. Dick
recovered. Lucid, stood with his yellow handkerchief and wiped his bloody nose while his other hand touched the bag to market. Doing this imagined place in the bathroom taking a kick on his business card. Went straight to a blonde who danced alone, now a dreadful ballad. He took her hips and said
- Sandy?
- No, Monica
- Same thing - she whispered, barely raising his voice.

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