ME AS PORK Engripados A sneeze. – Salud! ‘exclaims plumber A. The voice begins and ends threaded pipe rot in the morning with a lecture abrasive as sandpaper, causing the polish plumber B senses, just as gritty role she would. – “See, Mario ‘My predictions were correct, this will be a long season of rain. -Kabul, click Luigi. I told you before and I repeat again, leave the predictions to people who handle the gavel with arcane numeric scale. You have a hammer, lighter weight and size. Silence is stuck in the air. The bodies evaporated by the work are a high to peek outside the window, watching the rolling clouds. “What’s law is that when the end of the world, God will send another flood ‘says plumber A. – ‘5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 7, 18, 40 ‘ “Is the count for the end of the world'” No, the lottery numbers. The wildcard will be the 27 The joke takes less than lightning. Cesa thunder and repeated nature of the water cycle with light rain. “My God, has begun ‘warns plumber B. “Oh, droplets of anything, nobody drowns” Take my head, neck Cortame. Nothing is within the accoutrements of the bathrooms, after the acid rain. – “Acid Rain” If water is pure, man, bad for living things. Smog is full of advice to the poor quality and combined with moisture in the air. “My only regret is that I just washed the car was pouring with rain. The skyline is gone, except air unsustainable and parasols on steps and sidewalks running except putting the primitive technology of the bailers. The minibus makes the stop and is empty in seconds, all coming down in droves were men returning from their work. The truck part and Luigi Ramirez starts walking through the mud. There is a fish by crossing her legs apart. In the small restaurant of the Iron Curtain, Ramirez greets Dona Flavia, the mother removes the apron stretching, and orders the usual: Two eggs rancheros and coffee with milk, please. Slowly, with quiet dignity, Dona Flavia in the chair where he jumps and gives a towel to the newcomer. The poor plumber dripping tiredness at the elbows. – What happened ‘ “The storm of the century, patron-Va pa’ long this mother. Forecasters say the population never true weather forecast. The good son is sitting at the communal table. The comedic fat and starving him galan open space, taking up the flavor with both hands. The eye plays with every fly that lands and takes flight. “Flavia, Have you ever had any desire too selfish, that to be realized someone else has to die ” asked the boy, choking with a thrust of tortilla. Flavia thinks about the ingredients of the broth for a moment, the spoon knows what. “Do not these your pa ‘I know not to tell, but my favorite wish is to have tariffs of all countries with the sea,” confesses the matron, with a smile that never ends “My other wish is to see me as statuesque as Women Botero mirror. And my last wish is a tough choke marzipan, like those split into four, each fair on my ranch ‘Flavia shrugs and loses interest in the conversation. “But none of them was fulfilled. Luigi Ramirez ready to save a face contorted with the mood of the potato.
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