-Look at the cruel eyes and you will understand. They are dead students. Take a closer look -. Here’s how Mr. Malandro explains how to spot evil: through observation.
“That’s not enough,” I replied. Furthermore, what can you gain by observing? This is narcissistic behavior.
He smiled, a smile filled with forgiveness.
-A lot of psychoanalysis, man. Is masturbation a narcissistic behavior? Or hormone secretion? Perhaps viewing an art exhibition is an act of masturbation? Go to a movie, watch some beautiful calves in a bar, and watch a fiery sunset over the river? Please let me speak and don’t interrupt me with your poetic gibberish.
I took his hand and squeezed it, but he broke away and tore off my watch.
-Two thousand years in Tibet, four years spent with Mayan shamans, three years with Maoris, four years with Chilean convicts and the rest with psychics… It’s enough for him not to try anything on me, Pirincio.
I calmed myself down. – Let’s see and tell me about the eyes and the evil things you see, you know.
-I won’t mention destructive agendas or strategic provocations, maybe you won’t understand. I don’t know if they were on time, but we have to admit the bad guys did a good job. They are filing, fraying, becoming blurry. The democratic tent houses prophetic suckling pigs dressed as plaid clowns, fascist dwarfs in curlers and bearded women. The Masked Chaquinia, the Morales Brothers and Their Blood Gang, the Masters of the Eyes, the Criminal SMEs of Comodoro. They have logic but no soul. They are eager. They have no mercy. They are scared. They have weapons. They have anger. They have justice on their side. They have people. They have it all, and they target everything that comes their way, whether it’s the president, the empanada vendor, women, and children. Don’t let any of these become your shipwreck companions: they will definitely make a deal with the shark to push you into the sea and drink fresh water. So, they caused so much damage! Oh, my country, I don’t know how to explain so much evil! It’s not my responsibility, but when I see you so wet, so confused, so hurt, so half-dead, so focused, so humiliated, it makes me want to put on a samurai uniform and go to the battlefield.
“It’s better not to do this: you are too cynical and the future is not in your hands”, I replied with some resentment. I looked at him: he was tanned and smiling. He stated things and facts that I knew but that scared me. He touched my heart with his ring finger.
-Don’t let it hurt or stop you from having gastritis and prepare for the worst.
He left whistling Gianni Nazzaro’s song.
I am alone in YPF. The boy who accused me was going to vote for Milley, and there was no way he could change his mind.
-Those who rule us brought me here and they will not kick me out! – Statement.
-I swear to you, kid. The interim founding fathers of this country’s monster did the impossible and left a government with no businesses, no money, and no bosses.
“No idea,” he commented as it hit my windshield wiper.
-Pretend I left you at this station, unable to go out, with 38° flu, no ibuprofen, the police will arrest you at any time for a crime you didn’t commit, and I accuse your girlfriend and your friends including the bank, Counterfeiters and drug dealers. I have every means of publicity to ridicule you. I have the body bag, the guillotine and the funds. I summoned you to court and you couldn’t even go because you didn’t even have the money to buy Subey and your team was going to be relegated. Tell me seriously what do you want to do?
He wrung out the grill cloth, picked up the gasoline hose and put it in his mouth.
-I’d do it and it would cost me next to nothing a game.
It doesn’t get much more graphic.
-Thank you, I told him and left him two hundred mangoes as a tip.
-Sorry, but that’s not enough for coffee. Millay and Burridge, on the other hand, even got toilet paper for their use. Then they will charge you but it is already used by the caste. What will they be? These are serious bad guys.
He is still thinking. I walked over and looked at him in the mirror. As a kid evaluates the tip of a gun with his eyes to fire a super bullet, I tell myself something.
Mr. Malandro warned me.
-A few days ago, September 1st marked the one-year anniversary of the attack on your Vice President. Do you know what to celebrate?
-He’s not dead?
-On an international level, it’s Vulture Day. Look at this bird’s eyes: they’re as dry as those of the Pandilla Miserable de los Copitos. And then there are Maury’s eyes, Millman’s eyes, the Caputo family’s eyes, the judge’s eyes, the prosecutor’s eyes, Capuchetti’s eyes, the eyes of all those losers with fat mouths: they’re going to be Worms eat, but in life. remember. I don’t know if they left traces of their adventures because they went unpunished or because they were idiots. But those who do not defend her will have hot tears in their eyes. Where are the leaders? What about those who say they place the dead, the history of resistance and the victims of their ancestors?
-Have you become a Peronist?
-No, don’t be so stupid. Realize that I am a gentleman, a gentleman who is outraged that few people defend a lady of her stature. I’m sexist, I’m old, and I admit that that picture of her smiling and beautiful, not noticing the gun they were about to pull over her head, scares me, even though I don’t know fear, And, it stirred up the erotic feelings inside me.
-You are crazy.
– Be careful, I’m not weird. Do you know why it woke me up? Do you know why? Because the bullet didn’t fire; that’s why it excited me: that woman was inexplicably beautiful and exciting because she defeated death just by looking at her from the side. Even in the face of an idiot’s revolver, she’s beautiful. He can break Maura with a clean chest. He can clean and adjust them with just one slap. The wish includes a speed of 230 kilometers per second. I’d love to cross them. I would marry her and be faithful to her, mind you, I even thought about that. I’ll take care of your savings. But even if they cut my throat, I will never become a Peronist.
-Others will come to slaughter you, Mr. Malandro.
-I already knew; I warned him a few days ago.
Suddenly, I leaned on his shoulder and cried so sadly and so violently that I couldn’t hide it. Mr. Malandro sat motionless, absorbing all my pain, as they say the Sufis of India taught him.
-Breathe, man, breathe. Or cry about what you should cry about. I see. Since I have no country and no home, these things make me very hard, and sometimes I feel like crying. I have already forgotten. I can’t do this anymore. Cry, cry, be strong because we need it. The bad guys don’t have to defeat them. I tell you this from the bottom of my heart, I don’t have it anymore.