Categories
Short Stories | Contos

LUCY BREAD

“I got bread!,” shouted a brute in high school while groping Lucy’s buttocks.

“You got toasted!,” she retorted, hitting him right in the eye with Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain.

This is Lucy Bread and the moment was magic indeed. Never more in her all entire life she would be a victim of abuse. The brute got blind, she was expelled for the first in a million times and in all of those she couldn’t care less. Expulsion, sacking and debt became natural in her life. A happy life, believe it or not.

Lucy Bread had the genius of being highly responsible without taking life too seriously. She had her moments of grief, as anybody, and let them go away. Sadness did not deserved to be clinged by her heart.

“I am leaving you,” howled her first husband, “and the kid goes with me. You better stop laughing!”

Smiling widely, Lucy Bread scanned the condescending dimwit expert on money making from crotch to eye.

“Do you really want to fight me, win me over? Are you sure?” When it came to stabbing her heart, Lucy Bread’s voice had the calm, persistence and reach of a deadly epidemic. “Are you really considering destroying your daughter’s childhood out of spite for her mother? Do you really want to drawn your money there?”

“You won’t have a chance!”

“Try me.”

He did. For years. Lucy kept on laughing, as well as her daughter. The kid learned from the best and her dimwit father had to realize no money could depress that woman.

“How can you do it?,” asked one friend at the job center. “How can you be so happy while living in tragedy?”

“Find me a better way to deal with it.”

“You’re a nut case,” said one lover. “Too bad I don’t have the balls to cope with such invulnerable joy.”

“People are taught to solemnly cry and suffer with dignity. I taught myself to let all tears pour fast and laugh it out when I’m done.”

“You’re on denial.”

“And you’re deaf. I just told you I get all the grief and mourning done in one blow. No more annoying and tedious sadness, believe it or not.”

“You should coach people.”

“I’m not that presumptuous. People don’t laugh because they’re chicken.”

The second husband of Lucy Bread had the maturity to make no judgment and learn from her. I’ve never seen a happier man. I envied him hard and my wife noticed that.

“Would you like me to be like her?”

“I would like to be like her,” was my digressive response. “We should all be like her.”

She gave me the glare of immediate divorce and I kept my mouth shut to the moment I widowed. I don’t know if I fell in love with Lucy Bread. I eat a loaf of bread in her honor every night and do my best not to care a thing.

Saturday, August 28th 2021

Categories
Short Stories | Contos

LOVE’S MUMBO JAMBO

Gregory sat on the bench, tightly close to Sophie due to the cold. For thirty eight years they would sat there every Saturday afternoon, except on vacations. When occupied, they would lay down on the lawn. The river started to change color as the Sun moved towards the horizon, dimming the stains of pollution to tones of mustard. Some kids were jumping on skateboards, boys and girls. Though he could be their grandfather, the girls were making Gregory horny.

“Good heavens! Things never change!”, muttered Sophie, flashing wide open his overcoat. “With this cold and you having a lump under your trousers. They’re underaged, Gregory!”

“It’s automatic. You hear me saying this for decades. Do you really want to have another argument on this?”

“I thought you’ve learned something.”

“Their boobs are giggling, for crying out loud! There’s no learning to restrain the effect! We could be on the North Pole and my pole would rise still!”

Sophie punched him in the stomach.

“Time to get you distracted, you sperm brain.”

It hurt, but it did not work.

“Honey, come on. You also get aroused when some well dressed Adonis passes by. You blush like a tomato.”

“I do not!”

“You’re blushing right now, in denial!”

“Here we go again.” She rose her arms to the purple clouds. “We know the drill back and forward, and we will repeat it all over again until we die.”

“Even after our death, honey. This is eternal. This is eternity itself.”

“Sure is. The programming of nature, the gods and God. Thou shall have lust and jealousy.”

“Right. The urge for multiple sex encounters and to demand fidelity from each other.” Shivering, Gregory closed his overcoat and rested his head on Sophie’s shoulder. “The darnest thing is knowing all this doesn’t prevent us from lust and jealousy and from blaming each other.”

“I must blame you. I am your wife. I’m the love of your life for almost forty years.”

Taking a deep breath, Gregory growled:

“Their boobs are awesome!”

“Stop that, you pedophile!”

“I bet you’re now remembering the surfer you stalked last Summer. The kid was fifteen!”

“I wasn’t stalking him!” Sophie punched Gregory again. “He just happened to be in all places.”

“You offered him sandwiches and tried to put some cream on his chest.”

“There was a red alert on the weather report! Some people had to go to the hospital with sunburns and dehydration.” Now she rested her head on his shoulder. “God! We really are survivors. The excuses we get to keep our animal selves getting their way.”

“I like being an animal.”

“I noticed that.” She patted his thigh.

“You’re blushing”, he whispered.

The Sun was getting orange. Two skaters kissed. It was damn cold.

Saturday, 12th June 2021

Nuno Neves