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Absurd creature

I met with my favourite friend, he´s a absrud creture, Gustavo the frog a creature with big knowledge...

I usually speak with he, we often go to the park no far from to my house...the previous week our conversation was about the differents type cars, this discussion was interesting he prefers 4x4 to long journey throught the all types of lands however I love the small cars like to citroen saxo, chevrolet matiz, etc...

A few days the topic of the conversation are about the TV programs for example "Tu cara me suena"...why?, well the main Gustavo´s hobby is the music I have to the the most absurd thing of Gustavo, his favourite singer is Maria Isabel...this day I can´t hold off when he says this absurd things...for this reason and my self silly stuff, Gustavo the frog is my absurd creature, thanks for your attention.

Absurd wall

It is a wall in the middle of nowhere. It isn't a fence. It isn't a house. Maybe it was part of something bigger long time ago, but today nobody remembers nothing about it.

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04:00 am

It's dark and everybody sleeps. Well, not everyone is sleeping. There's a boy near the wall. He puts his backpack in the ground and he opens it. He catches a spray that was inside the bag and begins to paint on the wall. He doubts at the begining as if he doesn't know how to do it. But then, he begins to create a beautiful picture up in the corner. A beautiful picture like the others that were decorating the wall yet. Maybe, next week, he will have to begin with the other side.

11:00 am

An old woman carrying two plastic bags comes by the road. She finally arrives at the wall and she put the bags in the ground. The bags seem heavy because they are full with vegetables, meat, fruit... The woman leans on the wall enjoying the shadow. She takes the opportunity to rest, to gain strength so she could arrive home.

05:30 pm

Two children are laughing and sounds of joy fill the air. The dark haired boy is the goalkeeper, his back at the wall. The boy with the red t-shirt is shooting. They speak while they play as if they were sports journalists. "... he is the best football player of all times... if he scores they will win the championship..."

09:00 pm

A boy and a girl are watching the sunset with their bodies leaned in the wall. They are holding their hands and from time to time they look at each other. They are young and they are in love. -I've got to go, it's late- she says. -Come... just a moment...- he replies. And he pulls her behind the wall, where nobody can see them and he kiss her.

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One day, two men arrive at the wall. -So... Here it is... The mayor says it is an absurd wall in the middle of nowhere, a useless wall... He orders me to tear down it, so lets do it -
They get their picks and begin to hit the wall

THE DRUG SAGA

ACT ONE. Fallen in drugs

I still remember that story man. I have never believed in it. It could be true or not. But I didnt care either. My friends couldn´t be caught for a group of Gnomes. They were fallen in Drugs, who knows where are they now. Someone wrote their story, but I trought that paper to the toilet ages ago. And I dont even remember the name of that fucking mushrom.

I was investigating my friends lost for a long time. I have never got anything new at all, only that fucking jonkey irish lad. I can not trust him at all. He is never sober and he will never be. After a long time I accepted to have an interview with him. He invited me for dinner.

We were talking about his version, the newspaper version. 4 friends lost in the forest, they had some drugs, people said it was a special kind of mushrom. They got crazy and they are still lost. This guy version was very different. The reason about their lost, the mushrom was home of some crazy Gnomes and they kidnaped them in revenge. A stupid story, but they only one that I had now to listen. So I focus my ears to him and I listen all his full version at the same time that I enjoined a strange but delicious soup.

I felt for a moment like in a videogame, my head was pressed for an huge finger. I started to listen mexican music. It was hard but at the same time I was like in a poem. But that thing falling from the sky wasn´t rain. I could smell the blood everywhere. My feet walked trough spiked sand, hurting me everytime more. A horse wanted to bring me to the water. I was dry. Dead frogs jumping in from on me. A mermaid wistled "what u want" to my ears.

I looked up again tp the sky. There was no sky, instead 4 walls. I was in a room, hunging down from the roof. The walls weren´t empty. Something familiar was dead on them. I could see them from my eyes, my 4 friends were there, dead, gone. I wanted to cry, but I had not more tears. I brought my hand to the eyes and I had something there. A ticket from the place I went for dinner with the Irish Jonkie Lad. There was something written on the ticket that made me know about what happend. I was fallen in drugs, like my friends before, but I was still alive and there was not thing as Gnomes. It was that guy and next time I will break his drugs.

I freed myself and throught the paper to the floor, in it I could still read. MUSHROM SOUP. 

AN ABSURD PROMISE

Some of the buildings are still burning.

I watch the black smoke columns rise from the gaping holes on the concrete and steel skin of the skyscrapers, like pus slowly seeping out from an abscess, joining the permanent cloud of pollution that envelopes New York like a blanket. Or maybe a shroud. There are barely any screams, now. The ocasional ones here and there, when parts of buildings collapse, or near dormant fires suddenly spring into a blast of life, like a dying animal that throws a last, spiteful swipe of their claws at its murderer.

"Murderer". That's what they will call me, when the dust from the dozens of bombs I've triggered across the city settles down. When all the stupefied, beautiful and vapid kids that trot through the streets feeding on dreams, white noise and drugs to keep them thin gather their wits, and it dawns on them that this is not just another bombing. Just another deranged arab or disenchanted right winger. Just another bomb attack.

They will wonder. They will enquire. They will plead. In my mind's eye, I can already hear the news reporters words. "But above else, what the city authorities and inhabitants want to know, is why?".

They'll never even come close. Even in the unlikely case that they track the attack back to me, it will hardly matter. The people I have killed in the blasts with surgical precision won't hinder my ascent to power any longer. The damage I have caused won't be easily mended without the materials and companies I myself own. All the people who owe me and whose favours I called in advance will make sure that nothing is done. That nothing can be done. I will sit alone at the top of the food chain, with all the delicate threads of he city´s power in my hands. Able to make it dance to my whim, and to snap it in half like a dried twig with equal ease.

They will say I am a madman. That I'm guided by a signal in the heavens. Or by a birthmark on my skin, or the beauty of my weapons. It won't be far off. It's all true, in fact. But it's not the ultimate truth. All of those things are only accessory. The real reason is far simpler, and it watches the fires with me, starry-eyed with glee, her chest rising and falling to the rapid rhythm of her excited breathing. In the far left, barely inside my field of view, the smoke spires curl into themselves, taking the shape of the hollow of her neck.

The smell of her skin when I lean in to kiss it feels like that smoke. The way her body jumps is even more beautiful than the leaps and bounds of the flames outside. She turns to look at me, and the gratitude in her eyes makes it all worthwile. Worthwhile a thousand times over. 

She smiles and speaks again. The simplest form of communication there is: a promise. The promise I made to those dazzling blue German eyes, and that I have kept, after so many years.

— First, we take Manhattan...

She smiles again, beautiful, vindictive and deranged. That smile, I know, will one day swallow the world whole, and doom me. And I'd have it no other way.

— ...then we take Berlin.

The enchanted argument

He had dedicated his entire life to understanding humanity. As he came from another planet located far away from the Earth (and out of sight), everything was new for him on this world. He suddenly remembered what his grandmother had told him before leaving home: “Humans are strange and most of the time they have arguments about ridiculous matters, which even give rise to wars! You’ll have a hard time trying to decode the mysteries of this race, that’s why I believe that you won’t able to achieve your goal. But I’ll always support you. Please, take care of yourself.”

Her grandmother  did not know his little secret. She was blinded as well about the negative factors of this race. She had forgotten that there were still good people on that planet, and that humanity had reached lots of heroic achievements. Of course human beings made mistakes, but this was a common trait of people, unlike his species. They were peaceful beings, and words like “war” or “murderer” did not exist on their language.

As soon as he put his feet on the ground, after a long travel, he heard two men having a huge argument. One of them shouted that his favorite football was the best. The other man got angry and said that that was not true. He approached them (they were so focused on their fight that they did not realize that a creature with a weird appearance was there), and said the enchanted argument which would ease human minds and make them more tolerant and open-minded: “darabum arabard”. 

THE DRUG SAGA

ACT TWO. Broken Drugs

Seven years later…

I tried to quit drugs out of my life. I crushed myself.

There I was, sitting in front of the bright mirror. The cigarettes piled up on the worn ashtray.

The air was thick. Only someone like me just could enjoy that. The mixture of substances helped me to go into my own thoughts. As time went, the room was filled with smoke. More and more smoke…

My figure is diffused. Barely I can see my body.

Little by little my thoughts become clearer. My mind was widen…

At this moment a shot is heard. Then the silence…

The mirror is broken, my life is broken. The drugs don’t hurt me…