viernes, 10 de abril de 2009

Just Playback, Delete and Rewind – Part II

I have seen in so many movies how people watch a little film of their lives just before dying and I have always wondered which parts of my story I would remember.

My mother used to tell me to look at the bright side to whatever problem I would have and give it a smile from ear to ear.

So, if I ever get to die, I think I would bring up my happiest memories. Like when my classmate’s father died, poor girl, but she cannot deny how fun it was!

One of my friends and I went to the funeral and everything; three months later we found her at the mall and he asked her: “Hi, sweetie! It’s been so long! How’s your Dad doing?”

Then, he realizes that he had screwed it all up and trying to rectify his stupidity he continues: “Is the gentleman... still... dead?”

I bet I would remember this stuff; it makes me laugh all the time! Or when I dressed like a woman for the first time and entered to the men’s bathroom at a hospital. Awkward!

Life has its moments; I have to admit that since I told everyone in my family that I was a transvestite, things have been a little bit harder, but here I am, still looking at the bright side.

Everyone in my family thought I was going through some kind of temporary phase when I started playing with dolls; no one said anything bad about me. The same situation happened when I used to paint my toenails, instead of watching violent cartoons. Finally, when I asked for pink make up and a beautiful vermilion dress, my whole family realized how “brain damaged” I was and my father couldn’t wait to kick me out of the house.

The bright side tells me to look at it: I moved in with the coolest cheerleader I have ever met, but the negative events that came out so fast, make me think some crap.

I met her one day at church; this cheerleader asked me if I would like to join the mime group, she said I had lovely eyes, the required body and other hundred compliments. She obviously liked me but the only reason why I accepted her invitation was the free make up!

God loves everyone, He created us all and we should thank Him for letting us live. But why should I praise Him for making me born like this wreckage I am? Nobody has ever told me a good reason to do it or I have not search enough... but that is not the point!

God, I mean, this ghost everyone seems to have heard of at least one time, is not perfect or he did not do his best when he molded the ceramic jar I call my body.

I’m not sure if He exists at all. There are people in Africa starving to death and even His own sons and daughters are being killed when they preach about their Lord around the World, while my pastor’s hoodlum daughter consumes drugs! Why would any deity aloud all of this!?

Could someone reply to this!? I guess not.

Eventually, the cheerleader got to know how I felt about myself, my genre claustrophobia; she knew I was a woman chained inside a guy’s body. At first, she got angry with me because she found it out while she meticulously read my diary, but a few hours later, she sent me an e-mail encouraging me to leave our religion in order to be who I really was and if she would have to go with me, she would do it.

Since that moment, I knew that she was one of those people that you would protect no matter what. I still have that letter and I still weep when I read it.

Inside jokes, restricted chats and thousands of minutes alone taught us new meanings to typical questions. Soon, we became “Cheer” and “Mime”; everyone confused us as a couple and one afternoon she almost kissed me, I wanted to give her a shot but at the end I could not do it and we never try it again.

Anyway, the mime group became a nice place to find some friends; we ordered a pizza after every practice and prepared an excellent performance. We even gave a sneak pick on YouTube and the video got lots of positive reviews from family and people from other churches. We were definitely ready for the great night.

No one foretold that more than three hundred people would come to this Christian activity; we were very enthusiastic because almost of all them wanted to watch us! A mime group had never been that successful before!

However, a manifold choir singed and then our group walked in the scenario. The lights pointed at us, we were all wearing dark maroon pants, azure glowing shirts, carmine ties and golden feather epaulets. I would be lying if I say that I was not nervous at all, but something kept telling me to stop being afraid of be myself and, as my mother would say, I looked at the audience smiling from ear to ear. That was the first time I ever got to use make up without being despised.

The DJ did a hand gesture and played our song, three of the mimes hopped in front of me, drawing gallant lines with their dazzling white gloves. Next, two girls and one boy joined me to form a rock band with invisible instruments, while Cheer pretended to be a groupie who game me an imaginary blowjob for a few seconds. One person or two left the place after that, but most people laughed corruptly. We wanted to shock everyone and we were making it!

I could recognize some mimes from other congregations; they were clearly envying our synchrony and feeling really amazed when they confirmed we were as superb as we were on the Internet.

Finally, Cheer and I danced onto the center of the ring painted on the stage, the music slowed down and we executed some ballet moves. I had never been that happy in my entire life!

We did a remarkable job, every step was specifically positioned and the crowd praised our passion! It is safe to say that none of us did anything to ruin it and that the pastor’s little girl threw our work away all by herself, along with my honor, joy and even part of my identity.

“STOP THIS SATANIC PARTY RIGHT NOW!” she yelled, nobody shouts at Church but the preacher’s daughter, who is seldom here, seemed to be forgiven as she invaded our zone.

“What did you say, miss?” I furiously asked, while everyone in the rows of seats exclaimed dramatic sentences in unison.

“Someone detain this devilish act! I can’t believe my father granted a homosexual in this holy activity!”

“Wait a second! I am not gay!” (This is the truth, because even when all of my neighbours see me as a boy, on the inside i am a girl who likes guys).

“No, you’re worse than that. This young man dresses like a lady! I saw him wearing a tiny skirt, tall heels and unsuitable underwear for his masculine anatomy, just forty minutes ago. He and his female partisan thought they were alone at the girl’s vestry... If it wasn’t for me, everyone in this church would’ve never noticed this sloppy sin. This will teach you to respect me as I deserve” then she stroke a pose to give me a bitchy smirk.

Contrary to my stoop silent reaction, Cheer was not as bewildered as I was, in fact, she slapped the tattletale child! No one in the crowd did anything, she really deserved that.


“Well, I did it and I am not sorry. Just because you’re rejected from every group that exists in this country, that doesn’t give you the right to divulge someone’s life...” my best friend replied “And yes, Mime doesn’t feels like a man. So, what!? We were going to make it public tonight, but this little hypocrite and drug addict spread the word first. Now, if anyone in those series of steps is going to mess with us because of my friend’s sexuality, you should start with this stray kid and her stupid problems with cocaine and weed”.

These kinds of things are the ones that get my attention, like a giant halt to wonder how God can let one of His sons lost his happiness. There is no god.

My lungs were about to explode, not even the car accident Cheer and I were going to have the next night hurt that much. I could not breathe or talk, the only word that got out of my mouth was “NO”; my eyes were in pain for all the tears I cried, some of my friends were more scared than I was when I crashed the stage trembling. The darkness took me, I was dazed.

The pastor’s daughter ran away and the lights were turned off. Unexpectedly, everyone watching did a standing ovation; they thought everything was part of the show; my life had turned into a play.

The grandest accomplishment I have ever reached and I did not witness it. I wish I could have filmed the whole thing.

“WAKE UP!” Cheer screamed frightened while I was still dizzy, I tried to open my eyes slowly. After some attempts, my view was completely clarified and I remembered everything: my boyfriend found out that I was a guy and when I came home to pack up my things and leave the city, someone knocked me out!

My arms and legs were tied to the chair I was sitting on, my lips were stick with gray tape and there he was. At first, I could not recognize him; maybe I was so freaked out that I focus my attetion on Cheer’s injuries. She was lying in the floor with blood stains all over her clothes; her wheelchair was almost destroyed and completely useless. I heard her whispering my name but everytime she tried to continue with a phrase, the guy would slam her with his baton.

“What the hell are you doing!?” I yelled.

The guy was so fearful that he dropped his metallic expandable stick when I spoke, his pupils were moving weird and his face was marked with inflamed veins. He was wearing a sleeveless perspirated white shirt and dark blue jeans with several parts ripped.

“You’re AWAKE!” he replied as he intermittently smiled and made mad face.

I was not possible; he was in prison, far from my friend and me. After he threw us into the cliff in the car accdident, Cheer knew that I could profit that chance to disappear; the police would think that he had murdered me and my friend would affirm that.

At that moment, our bodies were upside down, her legs were violently stucked against wrinkled metal from the car itself, her brain was overloaded with blood and my head was still reeling, the idea of a new life as a girl seemed to be perfect.

Besides, he was obviously going to have a trial for making us fall there, but his father was obcenely rich and he would have paid anything to take him out of jail. By faking my death, we had found a manner to keep away the man who wanted to kill us, forever or we thought so...

“How did you get to us?” I asked pale.

“Does it matter?” he argued as he picked his weapon and pointed me with it at the distance “Is that so damn important!?”

“I am... I’m sorry, dude...” I answered sobbing.

“Save those false tears, they won’t do any differense now... Or will they erase every memory of me sucking pricks when I was seizured!? It’s too late. Your weeping won’t give me all the time I loose, it won’t return my virginity back and definately won’t revive my sister either...” he said while he was aproching to me.

He was not doing anything unpredictable, we ruined his life and he was going to slay us, especially me, after all, according to the newspapers, internet and people from my old church: I was already dead.

“Any famous last words you’d like to share?” he questioned as he stained my face with my agonizing friend’s blood by pushing his baton against one of my cheeks.

“Yes...” I pointed out defiantly “I’m sorry about your sister, but sooner or later, everyone would discover that the pastor’s DAUGHTER was a drug addict and it’s not my fault that she committed suicide right after the show, she wasn’t strong enough to deal with her problems and I had nothing to do with that. She had issues and you know it… I’m also sorry about your mom; I heard that she suffered a heart attack when she saw your sister hanging inside her room!” I exclaimed scared “I’ve got an advice I’d advise you to take: Everything what you felt that was wrong, is wrong again; killing us will only complicate things even more and you’ll be arrested for second time… You can do better than that. Don’t you believe in God? Don’t you believe in forgiveness? Open your eyes and see what you have become!”

I would never try to convince someone about something using a lie… However, I had to do an exception and it worked… Our kidnapper fell on his knees, crying, claiming for God’s help and regretting all these things that he did to us. But he did not stop there, his temperament increased like flames on gas!

He stood up screaming and beating the furniture, walls and lamps. There were ornaments, dishes and pieces of broken electrical appliances everywhere. As I was tided up to the chair, I let myself crash the ground, so I could grab one of those sharp objects and cut my hindrances!

The preacher’s son was smashing things in the kitchen when I went to check if Cheer was still alive. She had lost big amounts of blood, but if I moved swift, I could take her to the hospital! All I had to be was very careful.

Have you heard of internal displacements which are transmitted to big distances in the shape of waves? They can be of low intensity or they can be devastating. You probably have, must people name them as earthquakes. I call them bad luck and, when I opened the door of the apartment carrying Cheer, I had an accurate dreadful fortune.

The young unhinged man came running to the living room and tripped over one of the suitcases I had left unfinished when he arrived. Quick as flash, I put down my wounded friend and straightaway searched a crystal shard, pitifully, he got up first and tackled me out to the corridor.

“SOMEBODY HELP ME!” I desperately shouted, but nobody appeared.

We were lying down the old wooden floor, fighting, he was on top of me, trying to snatch the piece of broken glass I was holding, and I was making the effort to stab him with it.

“LET ME GO!” I yelled when I got to stick the crystal in his left arm.

The kidnapper had to release me; I almost stumbled attempting to flee, my freedom was shown to me through the oriel window at the end of the path, all I had to do was cover a couple meters and down the stairs at the end!

Cheer! I had to take her with me! But if I went back for her, the pastor’s son would catch me again! Damn… I had to return, climb the three steps I had downed and rescue her.

It was too late, not just for her and not just for me, we where all going to Hell. Mirthfully for the abductor, he achieved to launch us like a rocket through the window, rupturing every glass panel. Our bodies fell swirling, we wanted to slay each other but when we knew both of our lives were going to end, none of us dared to let go the other.

As simple as that, when we experience the anticipation of some specific pain or danger, we tend to do anything to escape or help us fight against it. Some may leave their pride and others their egocentrism, even when that means to become an insignificant ice cube among icebergs. What really matters is to be safe, to feel protected, to have the certainty that someone loves us and will miss us in case that we would vanish from Earth.

A couple minutes earlier I would have compared Jesus to a fairy tale and, by the end of that very second, my soul was contrite and disposed to kneel before Him. I wanted to go to Heaven, I had chosen to believe.

It was time to crash against the ground, to scatter my brains all over the paving and to welcome my fate. But just before that happened, a film began to project inside my head.

Out of nowhere, the happiest memories of my life came up. I remembered my days at school when I was popular, the first time I blew myself a kiss through a mirror with my brand new cherry lipstick, the moment I met Cheer and my performance with the Mime group at church.

My eyes were closed; I was happy and smiling from ear to ear. I had died, but my soul would live forever.

domingo, 8 de febrero de 2009

Just Playback, Delete And Rewind – Part I

I love television, how it takes us to another reality, especially when a science fiction show is on. Everything we watch is design to develop a specific reaction in our minds. When a foolish man is shown carrying lots of boxes and let them fall, for example, that is suppose to make you laugh. Never the less, my favorite illustration would be the Nuclear Family, yes: perfection, they say. I wonder how many people have been depressed because they don’t have the Dad they see everyone has on TV, maybe the Mother who cooks exquisite food or even the peaceful brothers and sisters.

There is no one on Earth that has not ever felt wrong as a family member, just because the stupid yelling or fighting do not appear on the screen with the utopian Nuclear Family! Build one of those and your life will be considered as successful, lose it and you will be a failure.

Well, let me tell you a sad story about me, when I was younger. They always said that our lives would never lack of blessings, that our future would be great, but… at the end: we resulted to be a Failure (yeah, with a capital F)… and it was not our fault, we never saw that coming, we just… failed… or the truth: they made us fail. I don’t know what we did to them, but it must be something awful! Nobody would destroy a family because they felt like doing it, would they?

I liked when I had what it seemed to be pure fiction, at least I had an actual family and every neighbor in the block was not as happy as I was… In fact, I could see through their eyes how much they wanted their kids to be as nice as I was, like an angel.

I used to be a very social boy, full of kindness and surrounded by happy thoughts. But that is part of the past now, back in time, when nobody knew me as #07.

It’s amazing how an unexpected situation can blend your soul like a tree struggling to stay where it is against a tornado and, suddenly, the tree is no more than a bunch of dispersed branches in an eroded place that was your home once.

It sucks when that happens, when everything you new as normal turns to be a luxury and you don’t know if there is any chance to recover what you had. Then, it comes: the craziest idea arrives to your mind and you think it is the best that you have, so you follow that freaking idea until you realize… there was another way. Damn, that really sucks.

One of my friends just called me to tell me where the responsible of my four long years behind bars is. Obviously, I thank him for this enjoyable information; the only thing I forgot to ask him was the direction of the travesty’s house, nothing that a simple text message couldn’t clear up.

I got to her home, but someone else opened the door. The lovely old woman explained me that the gray-eyed girl who sold her the house, moved with her best friend: a handicap blond girl with a plastic leg. Excellent, now I could finish what I left incomplete before going to jail.

I remember how I chased them; they were a little bit different of what they have become these days: the disabled girl didn’t have a wheelchair that hampered her from her cheerleader jumps, and the transvestite didn’t have breasts, he was just a normal gay man.

Oh, boy, I really wanted to get rid off them and I almost did!

One winter night, I borrowed my dad’s school bus and waited in front of the cheerleader’s house, when they finally came out and got inside the car, I turn the bus on. The pursued had begun.

If I remember right, cursing, screaming and all kinds of laments were their favorite quotes to pronounce. It took me less than five minutes to scare the hell out of them.

The blond lady accelerated her long and metallic green automobile; I bet they were really terrified about a drunken guy chasing them and constantly crashing the back of that girly car. I wish I could have filmed that…

If this would have happened to me, I would not be so fearful, instead, I would think about that sick weirdo that is trying to kill me, you know? I mean, a good behaved young man who has been always known for his kindness do not changes to be a murderer so quickly! I would have wondered why this drunkard was so mad, try to calm him down and find a solution to his problem. Man, I was so drunk then… All I can do is laugh!

Eventually, their loud voices, the high speed and the reckless driving won us another participant in our survival horror game: a cop, whose siren sounded more like an ambulance. Poor man, he told me to stop at the count of three… He had a beautiful motorcycle, though.

Anyway, if I wanted to make them pay for their deeds, I had to do it before getting caught by the police. So, I step on the gas pedal, went to the right and then to the left, hitting the automobile with so much strength that it spun! The passenger’s door was against my bus, even one of their wheel burst! And when I thought that could not get better, a hole in the street made the green car turn 90 degrees to the side! What a wonderful thing: golden sparks illuminating the darkness! Free fireworks!

The cop’s face was priceless, he said “Oh, my God!” more than twenty times! Then, a curve in the road show me the end was near, I kept pushing until I threw them into a ravine. The bus almost fell as well, but I could stop it just in time. Sadly, the cop survived and arrested me when I peacefully got out. I wish I would have escaped when I had the chance; those four years at prison were infinite torture.

This is a fun fact I learned at jail: when it comes to a crime, people only criticize the bad guy’s attitude and never talk about his feelings, they don’t speak about his world and how it dropped to pieces.

My life had always been very easy, everything was like a fairy tale and, now, I’m one of those people with depressive days because I don not have that stupid Nuclear Family. God, what did I do to you!? WHY ARE YOU PUNISHING ME!?

Breathe, dude! Breathe… Stop trembling… Relax… Remember that your friend told you were the cheerleader and the transvestite are! So, calm down… Everything is going to be fine.

I found out that they were living at a humble apartment building, spider webs and roaches were part of the interior decoration, and these adornments appeared more frequently as I walked up to the next floor. When I made it to the seventh floor, the outer soles of my shoes were totally painted with green insect insides. I would have used the elevator, but I was afraid that a bat would bite me!

Each one of my steps gained sound thanks to the old wooden floor and, when my steel expandable baton slipped from my hand, the sound evolved into noise! But no one heard it or, at least, nobody cared of what happens inside the building.

I got to their apartment, the door was semi opened. A hot crying girl was desperately walking from one room to the other, picking up some of her stuff and putting it inside old boxes. She was so busy that she did not realize when I went inside.

I was starting to think that I had sneaked into a wrong apartment; this young woman was not familiar to me, I had to get out before she would see me, but I waited a few moments because she began taking her dress off (I was going to kill someone, watch a sexy ass could not make my staying at hell worst). Then… a big nude penis denounced “her”… And I knew that I was at the right room.

“Dear, are you there?” she said worried, someone was behind the wall and she knew no wheelchair had entered because it usually does a unique noise when it comes.

I could hear her agitated lungs, slow steps and three cell phone keys being pressed! She forced me to act sooner and I surprised her by hitting her head with my baton. Naturally, she fainted, which gave me time enough to tie her up, steal a few beers and smoke a few cigars.

Why do people have to change? What stuffs make us grow up and what things sink us down? How did I turn into a nicotine addict? When am I going to reach happiness again? Where is my dad?

The last time I spoke with my father was the next day after my release, he was kind of nervous when he first saw me walking straight to his house, and I don’t blame him, no one tells our parents how to deal with criminals. However, Papa stopped pruning the grass, my lips were not capable to move and my legs were shaking worst than ever. I would like to clarify that I am a real man, but, when my father held me so tight, I could not detain the tears running down my face and dampening his shoulder. I felt just like the Prodigal Son... Just after this, he told me that I had to leave the property.

“What… What did you say, Dad!?” I asked him with my breaking voice.

“Well, son… I mean! Friend…” he said while he seriously checked nobody saw us together and continued “I don’t know how to start… So, I’m just going to throw it all: I’ve moved on”

“Sorry, Dad, I… I don’t get it. What do you mean by that?”

“I have a wife now and soon: a new son, a real one… one that’s going to have my blood”

“If this is a joke, then, why aren’t we laughing? Papa, you can’t be serious about this.

Mute time without end. Prison was not as ruff as this.

“I did it because of you! I went to jail because of YOU!”

And he got angry at me, so much that he hit me. That guy really wanted me out of his life. I guess his past was too painful and every time he would look at me… he would remember my mother and my sister.

“Did you see what you just made me do!? I never touched you before and now you’re crying in the floor. Get up! You are an adult, go and build your life away from mine.”

“DAD, DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE! All I wanted to be was…”


“Papa, All I wanted to be was one of your children…”

The gray-haired man grabbed my neck with his left arm; stood me up with the other and told me what hurt me the most: “Do not call me like that again. You… Listen carefully: From now on, you are not any of my relatives. I never commanded you to kill those people. I loved you as a real son… But what you did trying to make me feel better was wrong. I lost my wife and my girl: my biological daughter that was so hard to have… and then, like if this wasn’t enough, the only ALIVE person I loved got in jailed. Do you blame me for moving on!? Well, I heard once that nobody can be slave of his own identity, when a possibility of change comes, you have to change… and I did. I advise you to take this opportunity, live a whole new experience… away from me”.

He left me out of his house and locked the door. Less than a minute later, his current spouse arrived, she was worried, kind and doing everything to help a stranger like me.

She asked my name and if I was fine, but I walked away as my father told me. After that day, I started regretting what I did… However, I came to the cheerleader’s apartment to end what I began.

Could I? Should I?

Oh, God. I no longer know if I should carry on with this… What is wrong with me!? It is too late to stop. The wooden floor creaks again, a door opens as an old wheelchair squeaks. I hope that the neighbors are not slept, because this is going to be the noisiest night of their lives.

viernes, 2 de enero de 2009

This (Wild) Animal I Have Become

Opportunities: We all have them. We choose how to live, who to love and even if you want to love someone. Sometimes it’s better if we use those chances to take advantage at some point, but there comes a time when it’s greater if you reject them, that shows your strength, your courage to stop some addiction or your determination to become a person who knows how to take care on his own.

I got one of those opportunities and took it, of course, the consequences made an almost instant appearance; I became addicted to a ticket machine, mostly to its own side effects like meeting girls, sex, girlfriends, parties and, hell yeah, more sex. At least, I know I can stop this whenever I want. Just like smoking, even though I keep asking for #30’s cigars… But I will stop doing those things whenever I want.

Another problem I got is this weird confusion that invades me everyday when I walk near to the chalkboard I have in my bedroom. It’s really cool, I’ve saved all the tickets I’ve taken in the library and nailed them into that wood slate. #07 asked me about it the other day; I told him it was a collection. Can you believe it? A collection, I collect people, like objects that I can use when I need them. I’m a human-kleptomaniac, I steal lives and, some may not be aware that I have committed that theft, but she paid attention and #47 got rid of me.

Now, because of the weirdest dream I’ve ever dreamt, I decided to change my lifestyle this morning, but I came to this point: good people are boring and I’m the totally the opposite.

Tonight, I’m going to be awake until dawn, nothing that a couple of prayers cannot erase. I guess I’ll have to go to church next Sunday. I know that the word “Why?” is coming to your mind and the answer is easier than the question: I don’t want anything to ruin my day, so, I won’t talk (or fight and cry for forgiveness) to #47 until I would miss her really much. “So, who are you going to spend the night with?” you question again (damn, you’re too curious!) and I’ll reply that #97, the red hair girl who gives massages, is my date.

Maybe you remember I don’t love her, I bet you also know she thinks I’m her boyfriend. Well, as I told you a little while ago, I got human-kleptomania and chicks like these are indescribably indistinguishable from the first kind of “opportunities” I commented about at the beginning. Obviously she accepted when I asked her to go the fanciest restaurant in the city (yeah, the one where now lies a plastic extra leg).

It’s going to be a wonderful night full of relax and comfort, let’s bring the drama dose of the day: “Do you know what #07 exactly did to get caught in jail?” I rustled to #30 while the three of us were in the movie theater, watching a film that reminded me of the supposed man killed by my main dude’s cellmate.

“Shut up, dude. He’ll find out what we’re up to!” he reproached inclining his body to my seat, so our friend could not understand a single word. The woman in the back apparently heard everything and shouted us to do silence. Oh, lovely irony.

Anyway, I managed to explain with my hands we were going to talk about #07’s link to the guy from the ID I found at the gray-eyed girl’s house the other day.

The movie was almost perfect. It was funny, cool and had an interesting development. It was a little confusing though, just like me.

We went to the food court and #07 left us for ten minutes to talk to a hot girl who was giving small tickets to gain a discount at our favorite pizza place. So, #30 and I looked for a decent table, one in the big balcony seemed quite good, we could smoke and see the artificial waterfalls outside the colossal building. I really like them, their structure, how they are presented. It looks alike to real cascades. I wonder how much money they cost to the mall. Wait a second... Why do I care? Well, there’s an empty table we can use to eat and appreciate how the transparent liquid flows between little rocks specially positioned by expensive architects. I can cheat myself and pretend that I have no problems occasionally. Five, four or one minute, at least a few seconds watching the waterfalls and I’m out of this universe.

“Stop acting like you’re retarded, dude!” said #30 as paper ball made out of a napkin woke me up. With no #07 around, we could freely speak about him and we did. I had so many questions. Why did he go to jail if he claims innocence? If he didn’t kill the owner of the ID, does that makes #47 guilty? That would have sense, she had the ID. What if she murdered him and ran away after leaving proves that took my cellmate’s friend to prison? But, why would she want to slay that guy? What did he do to her?

“Maybe we should tell him about the ID”- I told to #30, who preferred not being involved. Damn curiosity. I need to know the truth- “But later, here he comes”.

#07 wasn’t as happy as we expected him to be after talking to the hot girl in the entrance. “I invited her to go out tonight but she just gave me her phone number” he said.

There’s not such thing as perfect happiness, there’s always something missing. No matter how many things we have, we are never complete. The day we had no more goals in life, we’ll be dead.

“Look at the cascade, #07. It’ll take your problems away” I affirmed as I moved my arms imitating waves. But I just made him laugh... Who would’ve known? I’m a possible killer’s waterfall.

We ate six combos together, the food was delicious and we laughed as never before, especially when #76 appeared. I introduced her to the guys as my biggest fan; she just giggled and blushed, as usual, she didn’t realize we were making fun of her enormous wart, her breast-less chest and, generally, her ugly body. Some say the inside is what matters, but they said that because they didn’t meet #76.

She went to the mall because I told her; I had some homework to do for the next day and, as I had a date with #97, it was impossible for me to make it. That’s where #76 does her amazing entrance. So, I gave her my notebook followed by a fake “Thank you very much, you’re great!” and she left smiling.

“I’m glad she’s finally gone!” said #30 stretching his arms up.

“Why?” asked my other friend.

“She is visually uncomfortable” he responded.

“A fancy synonymous to Ugliness” I added to finish the cruel joke as we all burst out laughing. Its official, if I don’t go to church this Sunday after telling this, I know I’m going straight to hell.

Where does that come from? Why do we need to feel greater than other people? What makes us destroy someone’s life? Is it to make our self-esteem grow higher? I remember I used to talk about those things with #21; I have days without seeing her… But I’d phone her tomorrow; I had to get ready for my date!

I borrowed #07’s car to pick my girl, it was very important to make sure that everything worked perfectly that night, I was dating a chick I didn’t really like and I wanted to try to love her. That would be a nice way to forget my sexy religious ex: the gray-eyed girl. I wish I could’ve been careful with her, #47 was unique.

Anyway, we arrived to the restaurant and I felt lucky to have #97 by my side, she looked pretty hot in that black dress. A waiter took us to the table I booked last week, however, I never expected what happened.

My girlfriend was sitting behind an apparently strong man; he was wearing a cool shirt and a silver watch, but that way of dressing was not what interrupted my peace. He was speaking to the gray-eyed girl and I could tell by the way she stared at me, how surprised and happy she was to attend to our destinies’ reunion.

The waiter gave us two menus and went back to his place near to the main doors; my girlfriend kept talking to me but I couldn’t take my eyes off #47 who was doing the same. Strangely, there was a sexual spirit between us, even when she never wanted it before. I had to do a sign.

“I’ll be back in a minute, baby. My bladder is suffering” I joked to #97 as I stood up. She laughed and agreed with me.

I walked straight to the men restroom; before entering, I threw a look back and caught the gray-eyed girl coming to meet me. Nobody saw us going inside together.

There were a few seconds of silence in that black place, but those were changed by apologizing comments from both of us. Then, I kissed her with passion, love and all my soul. I really missed her. I grabbed her from the ass to put her on the dry lavatory and, while I softly bite her lower lip, she asked me: “How much do you care for me?” I tried to give her a clear answer as I tasted her neck: “So much… I assure you… Anything or anyone could separate us”, I told her those last words gazing at her beautiful eyes.

“Really?” she added amazed.

“Yeah”, I replied. Then, I kissed her again and again. At that moment, my hands were starting to explore her virgin breasts.

“Now… listen… listen to me” she said while sweating. But I told her everything was fine, that I would block the door with a broom (which I did) and that we would break up with our couples, she just had to let the situation run and enjoy it.

“Before going further… Oh, God… I want to tell you that I love you as well… Oh, Lord… And I have a… Yeah, THAT”, she exclaimed scared.

Honestly, an 8 inch erect penis is not what you imagine to find out when you touch between a hot girl’s legs.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT, BITCH!? WHAT’S THAT!?” I yelled while I quickly walked backwards and hit a bathroom door with my back.

She tried to explain this whole new discovery; the only thing I did was throw up in the lavatory and taking her arms off me. There was no excuse for that. Why didn’t she tell me before!?

Opportunities: We all have them and I should’ve rejected the bible she or he gave me the day we met; I should’ve denied those gray eyes, those eyes that couldn’t avoid my angry fist. Yeah, I couldn’t hold the fury, but that just revealed the truth. At that instant, she had a brown crying iris in her face and I had a contact lens in one of my knuckles, then, everything turned so clear that I could smell reality: #47 was the man of the ID.

#07 got in jailed for a crime he didn’t commit. He had to know that his suppose victim was alive. This travesty deserved prison and even death!

“You do not have freaking idea of what expects for you, piece of crap” I said before cleaning my mouth and spiting a residue of vomit to the lavatory, leaving her/him weeping in the restroom floor.

I fixed my tie while I returned to my table. #97 asked me what took me so long. The lack of toilets was a good reason for her and immediately she noticed I was sick. We left the place, I wish we had gone to see a waterfall, but we didn’t. I took advantage of the opportunity to call #07 to tell him about everything while #97 got in the car. He was astounded and I was happy to be obliging.

What makes us destroy someone’s life? The desire of revenge may be the answer; also the need to recover our fallen status, but, most of the times, the real motive is to make our self-esteem grow higher.

If someone doesn’t want his or her life to be ruined, that someone should be careful of the words he uses, the way she looks at people or, merely, don’t mess with me. I’m not just a normal guy. I hope #47 rotes in jail, I really do.