Toy for Christmas

Home is far, the flight was too expensive, thought Kev. He weighted his options. As Christmas approached a sense of solitude invaded him. He hated this time of the year, everyone left town to visit their relatives. What's there to do? He looked at his phone and browsed through the address-book entries: Adela, out of town, Peter, out of town, Sonia, same. Everybody's out but the usual suspects. Sighing he dialed Bosh, old Bosh.
"Wassup Kev"
"Not much, wadalluduin for Christmas?"
"Tradition calls. Get together at the Old Tabern. You coming?"
"Not sure, was thinking about visiting a friend."
"Sounds more like crashing to me."
"Sorta, just a thought."
"See you at the Tabern round eight."
"OK."

He remembered his childhood toys, waiting for that special toy--Christmas seemed to take forever to arrive, and then sort through the gifts, the usual ugly socks, the pants he didn't care about, grown up shirts. He needed the clothes but couldn't care less. The special toy kept him awake for many days. When he finally got around it, he jumped in joy, and went outside to show it off. The other kids were out there playing. Skates, bicycles, soccer balls, actions figures, you name it. But that was a long time ago. He couldn't get a toy anymore, he was all grown up, no more toys, real world, real people, real pain in the butt.

White Christmas? No. It rarely snows in Austin. It was a perfect Christmas eve... perfect for fall, not for winter. He looked outside the window, it was dark already. More cars than usual parked outside his house; a faint laugh. Where all this people come from? He took his coat, got into his car and drove to the Tabern where his "extended family" waited for him. Extended as in, extended hangovers and extended tequila shots. He hanged out there almost everyday hoping to find the girl of his dreams. It was futile, only the casual one night stand that left him feel "hungoveremptyIregretwhatIdidlastnight".

As he was approaching the Tabern he had an idea: why not a toy? why not wish for a toy? A special kind of toy. He quickly went back to his house, once there he wrote a letter:

Dear Santa (?)
I've been an OK citizen, I work, I go to the bar with my friends, and live a peaceful life. It's been a while since I wrote you a letter but it's never too late to want something. When I was a kid I used to write you about action figures, well, this time I want something special, something very important: I want companion. I feel so lonely that most nights I feel like crying. I miss the company, the laughter, the discussions, the sound, the voice of another human being.
Sincerely,
Kev.

He read the letter and a tear rolled down his face, that followed by anger. He took the letter and threw into the garbage can. I'm so stupid, so, so, stupid. Santa Claus, yeah, right. His face covered with tears of loneliness, sadness, and frustration. Suddenly, the sound of a loud crash. People yelling. He quickly went outside to see his car destroyed--a small car smashed on his car's side; somebody trapped inside. He opened the small car's door: blood on the steering wheel, and a unconscious girl inside it. The strong alcohol smell inundated the scene. She woke up and said, "Please don't tell them."
"Don't tell them what?" replied Kev.
"What just happened."
"Are you OK?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Let me call an ambulance."
"No! They'll take me to jail."
"Why?"
"DUI. Is this your house? Can I lay down for a while?"
A dilemma, what to do? He decided to help her, "OK."

They walked inside the house. Kev phoned to a friend so the cars would be taken care of. She lie down on the sofa.
"What's your name?" asked Kev.
"Amelia," she said.
"You feeling better?"
"Yes."
"You got a small cut in your arm. I'll bring the first aid kit."
"Thanks, you are so nice."
"Do you want me to call somebody?"
"No, everybody is out of town."

Kev left and brought the first aid kit, right then he noticed how beautiful she was. He cleaned the bound, put a band-aid, and said, "It's Christmas eve, as a matter of fact it's almost midnight. Where were you going?"
"I was just driving around, I went to a bar, drank a lot, and was just... you know... driving..."
"I think I know what you mean."

No more words, they stayed there looking at the fireplace, hypnotized, and, like that, they fell asleep.

No exception, the next morning they were both hungover, but this time it was a different type of hangover, the feeling happy hangover, the non-empty hangover. Amelia opened her eyes, it took her a second to realize where she was, smiling, she said, "Good morning."
The best way to wake up, greeted by Amelia's smile, Kev replied "Good morning."

A toy? After all, I got my wish granted! thought Kev.

Language Lessons

Hello kiddos! Today we are going to show you a simple story told by four different "persons" in four different languages. Let me introduce them:

  Billy - The American guy, he's about ten, and loves dogs.

  Catalina - The cute Mexican girl. She's 18, and loves cats.

  Panny - The British dog, he has good manners and likes dog tea.

  Gatocat - He's bilingual--speaks English-cat and Spanish-Cat.

Billy: Once upon a time there was dog name Fufu,

Catalina: Había una vez un perro llamado Fufu,
Panny: Woof woof, woof --- (dogs don't name themselves, they distinguish each other by their behind odor).
Gatocat: Meow, meow, miau, miau--remember, he's bilingual.

Billy: Fufu was sad because he was going to get fixed.
Catalina: Fufu estaba triste porque le iban a cortar los blanquillos.
Panny: Woof, woof?--he barked.
Gatocat: Miau, meow!--Cats love to hear dog fixing stories.

Billy: His owner took him to the veterinarian.
Catalina: Su dueño lo llevó con el veterinario.
Panny: Woo--he can say no more. Did the cat eat his tongue?
Gatocat: MIAAAAAAAAAU, MEOW--He's getting a little bit too excited.

Billy: And he lived happily ever after.
Catalina: Y vivió muy feliz por el resto de sus días, aún y cuando se quedó sin blanquillos.
Panny: --no comment.
Gatocat: Purring--Cigarette anyone?

Ninety minutes a day

"A waste of time, that's what I used to think," said Steve, "but I found something very interesting."
Puzzled, Harry asked, "What's a waste of time?"
"Driving."
"Driving? Just like that?"
"Driving to work. 45 minutes each way, 90 minutes a day. Imagine what you could do--I mean, I could be exercising, well I'm kinda lazy, or I could spend more time with my wife--not that we have too much in common, we don't even like the same books, movies, or TV shows. I guess I could watch TV but that would be a waste of time as well--you know what I mean, don't you?"
Harry was a little lost, too much information, "Not sure. You said you found something interesting?"
Smiling, Steve replied, "People."
"People?"
"Yeah, people--you know..."
"What about people?"
"I started to pay attention to people on the street. Have you noticed them?"
"Sorta. What's interesting about them?"
Steve eyes lit, "You don't even know. Pay close attention to people, you'll find a surprise or two. I noticed this kid, he walks with a backpack, I suppose he's going to school which is not that close, then I wondered about his parents, are they at work and can't take him to school? What if it was my kid, would I let them walk to school even if it's raining? I felt compelled to take him to school but, me? The middle age man? That doesn't sound right--" Steve smile disappeared, "So, every day I see him walking to school, I guess that's alright."
Harry sighed, "Well, that's how it goes. What other people did you see?"
"Old people, retired, I guess. There's a traffic light, it always turn red when I get there. That's where I see her; she's pretty, late 70s. She's always sweeping--she lives in an old house. House is kept clean and nice. Does she live alone? I've never noticed anybody else. I guess, she must've been popular when she was young."
"Why do you say that?"
"She's pretty, must've been gorgeous when she was younger--does she have any kids? Grandkids? Is she a widower? But, she's always there, sweeping, looking at the floor, like searching for a lost ring or something."
"Where do you get these ideas? I mean, for what I was able to gather people have the same routines: go to work, school, clean house, etc. What's interesting about that?"
Surprised, Steve said, "Don't you get it?"
"No."
"It's not about routine, it's about life. People's lives. We do things that are repetitive, routine as you call it. However, if you pay attention you'll find there's more to life. Notice it, enjoy it, live it."
"You are crazy."
"Yeah, crazy, but no longer bored."

The Darkest Night

The air hit us in the face and made us blush, the exposed parts of our faces were frozen; we stayed there, looking at each other in total darkness. It was a starless night, the sky hid its light in a mantle of dense clouds... black clouds... sinister clouds. She trembled anticipating something terrible. I tried to console her but she didn't budge. Frozen tears came out of her eyes--I knew she used her sixth sense, that sense that only women possess.

We had to move on, we couldn't wait there. I turned on the lamp, the weak light lit a narrow cobblestone road surrounded by trees. The night sounds interrupted the sepulchral silence. We walked a few steps, suddenly we saw him, he took us by surprise. Black as night, he waited for his victim, patiently. When he saw us, he came out of his hideaway and jumped. His claws nailed inside her left arm, the skin flew and the bone got exposed--a river of blood cover her clothes. I stayed there, paralyzed, watching at the massacre, yet couldn't do a thing. When she dropped to the floor I knew it was my turn. I ran and a massive load hit my back and made me tumble. I hit the floor and immediately adopted the fetal position. A comfortable position I had before I was born--the perfect position to see life's last light.

On Vacation

"I was on vacation," said Mr. X.
"Vacation? I mean, vacation, vacation? As in vacation?" said Mr. Y.
"Yeah, 'twas fun, partied all night long and ate like a pig."
"Pigs eat crap and weird stuff," replied Mr. Y with a wrinkled nose.
"It's just a figure of speech. We ate a lot."
"What kinda food?"
"Mexican, Mexican, Mexican, and Mexican. Did I mention Mexican?"
"Very funny, I'm not that stupid." Mr Y turned a little red.
"Didn't say that, no labels here," said Mr X sorta apologizing.

Always fighting, they could never get along. Sighing, Mr. X went back to its place, right between Mr. E and Miss. I. Dragging its feet Mr. Y went back to its old house where Mr. U waited for him.

The wall smiled proudly, she wore travel posters from all sorts of countries. Proud Mr. X lived in "Mexico," while Mr. Y lived in the old "Yugoslavia."