Chocolation

The wallet hit Oca, the chocolate, on the head. “Ouch.”

It wasn’t the first time nor the last time he bumped into Oca ‘unintenionally.’ He was so rude, always bothering Oca. Of course, there were coins too, but they were nice. Oca liked pennies, they were small and rounded. Their smell reminded him of his younger years, when he used to be out in the open; the wind caressing his face. He loved to be high in the tree, and how people looked up to him.

A flat and thin piece of paper tapped on Oca’s shoulder. “Wally’s givin’ you shait?”

“I’m used to it, thanks.” Oca grinned at him. Such a nice dude.

Wallet eyes grew hateful. “Wanna pieze of mua? You pieze of paper.”

Mr. Receipt shook his head and turned around.

“Good.” Mr. Wallet opened and closed itself in a big slam. “Don’t mesz with da masta.”

Oca’s wrapping wrinkled. “Why are you so mean to him?”

“Hez stupid, besidez hez old and wrinkled.”

The receipt was indeed old and wrinkled, but that didn’t make him a bad thing. Oca knew bad and mean, his Dad warned him when he was a little grain of cocoa. He told him about the humans, and how all of the grains would one day be ground and become chocolate. That thought made Oca melt a little more.

“You should respect the old,” said Oca, her brow furrowed.

“Why? Hez so insignifecu—insinsfeu, no, insi. Ya know wha I mean!”

Out of the blue, the whole pocket moved violently. They flew one way to the other, hitting the fabric walls. Oca watched in horror. A human hand with its gigantic fingers grabbed several things; a coin, the wallet, the receipt until it scratched Oca’s surface. He knew what that meant: No more bumping into Wallet, no more chatting with Receipt, no more life. Life as he knew it would be over… soon.

Oca saw the blinding light of the street. Then the wrapping crumbled; the hand peeled it out. He gasped, he was traveling directly to a giant mouth… and it had teeth. His left leg melted away. His right arm and left hand followed, and so on.

The last thing he saw was a disgusting tongue moving inside the mouth, like a cobra ready to bite its victim.

Briefly, he went back to the tree. His parents smiled at him, and the wind caressed his face for the last time.

My Life in Five Minutes

Usually, a human life last years, decades, sometimes even a century… or more. However, life is so repetitive that it takes a set of incredible actions to make it stand out. Famous people, unforgivable people, heroes, artists, etc. made and make a difference. Legends are born and other persons talk about them. Generation after generation, the knowledge is passed and they become immortal.

In most cases, when they were alive—in their time—they didn’t feel any different; quite the opposite, most were rejected or couldn’t fit in the society at the time. Of course, there’s the other side of the coin, some lived great lives and enjoyed every minute of it… did they?

And then there are movies.

“What about the movies?” you may ask.

There’s this way to make the immortal more immortal, a picture is not enough. A motion picture can be a powerful way to teach us about these famous people, yet, these movies are usually two hours or a little less.

If famous people lives can be captured in film in two hours or less, how long would it take to show my life? This triggers several questions:

Is my life interesting?

Am I one more sheep in the herd?

Am I living life to the fullest?

Can I make a difference?

And the list goes on… and on… and on.

But, think about it, how long would the movie of your life be?

That’s a question that only you can answer…

That’s why I think the movie of my life is five minutes long…
Or more...
Or way more...
It could be less too...