http___www.proyectoambulante.org__p_19398_gtlang_ga_1.xml
1.1 2.1 3.1 4.1 5.1 6.1 7.1 8.1 9.1 10.1 11.1 11.2 12.1 12.2 13.1 14.1 14.2 15.1 16.1 16.2 17.1 18.1 19.1 19.2 20.1 21.1 22.1 23.1 24.1 25.1 26.1 27.1 28.1 29.1 30.1 31.1 32.1 33.1 33.2 34.1 35.1 36.1 37.1 37.2 38.1 39.1 40.1 41.1 42.1 43.1 44.1 44.2 45.1 45.2 46.1 47.1 47.2 47.3 48.1 49.1 50.1 51.1 52.1 53.1 54.1 55.1 56.1 57.1 58.1 59.1 60.1 61.1 62.1 63.1 64.1 65.1 65.2 66.1 67.1 68.1 69.1 70.1 71.1 72.1 73.1 74.1 74.2 74.3 74.4 74.5 75.1 76.1 77.1 78.1 79.1 80.1 81.1 82.1 83.1 84.1 85.1 86.1 87.1 88.1 89.1
Written in December 2011 As they are feeling the first cold winter, it seems that around every corner, between mented mented and motorists carols and hear the best feelings of the people begin to surface (see Oaxaca for example), came to my mind a memory of a adventure occurred on a night of Dec. 24. Forgive you, dear reader, that maybe my stories are too long and sometimes have to split, but I think the end result is well worth it, so at one, two, and three: Warning: I must say that what is written then I will relate in first person because I do not have happened, is just the tonic for the chronic this now established itself began: "Like every Christmas for many, many years, met in the City and Port of Veracruz, my grandparents, their children and grandchildren. Results in a way that the eldest grandson me and my sisters and there are actual pa'l, my cousins come cascading ages as Telerin family for that time, their ages ranged between 7 years and 3 years more the lowest (You apologize blackouts, but after so much alcohol, one is something ... we say "dañadito") approximately. In this honorable occasion, my grandfather refused flatly to be characterized as Santa Claus for the umpteenth time, so we turned around to see us all shocked to see who fulfilled the requirement for the occasion and choose a worthy successor. And the angelic voice of my holy mother drilled the southernmost part of my eardrum when I said that eternal mellow tone: - "Come on Tupa, your turn." I turned to see her face "I nor rub" and a moment later I tried to imagine red dress, with that fucking hot, with a bag of toys next to a tree and shouting jojojojojojo. I did not have much time to think about it, because my grandfather saw in me the way out of this singular character and immediately went for the black rubber boots with pruning the garden probármelas and everyone else decided to collaborate with the designation bringing other accessories. ("Havemus Santa", I thought). "It is' said my aunt while I looked all red pants with my grandfather as coach of the Globetrotters, Santa hat corner lights, false beard made of cotton Comercial Mexicana, a couple of pillows way belly (no longer would be needed .. sniff), a super heat of the mother and of course ... this pair of black boots inche gardener. - "You barbarian!, You were just like ...". Yes, exactly like Freddy Crugger crossed with Barney! I thought, but because "what's done is done (or belly in this case)" and prepared to carry out my work as decent Santa can finally had inherited an honorary position and felt some responsibility to my back ( after that responsibility was to materialize in bags with toys but anyway). And enthusiastic, ask my aunt: - "I'm going to the corner?" (Let me clarify here that the traditional route of the Santa Jarocho is from the corner of the house to the front door, something like 40 meters). To which she replied sweetly: - "No Tupa, um in about an hour, children are not ready and there are a thousand things to do." - "Queeeeeeeeeeeeeee?, And earned martha!." I thought. That meant staying an hour at a temperature slightly less than one oven pan de muerto, while everyone else was fresh as lettuce and enjoyed the food and beverage equipment. My uncle Otto took pity on me and I get a six pack of Coronas, which ingested almost immediately to prevent dehydration and thus between chela chela and vanished the agreed time. Shortly after I began to feel half mareadón and at that moment my aunt told me: - "Sale Santa, and go to the corner." - "Sui aunt" I said with the voice of Alex Lora half drunk. And so was I, carrying a couple of sheets of grandmother with a load of toys, in pants, boots, heat, and the pitcher toward the streetlight on the corner brandishing a hidden hood that my grandfather took my grandmother and gave me to do "more realistic" the triumphant arrival. Faltabanme few meters to reach the point when I heard that gentle voice, male and educated that characterizes our heroic police state when he said: - "All right my Santa?" I guess I said some blame on the clergy or the state because after I opened the hocicote Christmas, I was approached and I heard two of them clearly as one would say to another: - "How do you partner"? Finally he turned to me, telling me exactly what I had to ask, that night, at that hour, that day: - "Let's see Santa, blow me ..." - "Futa, this is gonna get ugly" I thought, but lacked many things to happen that night. Once .. Polecía almost goes back to the dragonazo alcoholic and the other stops it adds: - "Újule my Santa, is forbidden to drink in public, even for you, bring identification?". - "Nou, I guess I was in the sleigh." - "Mmmta Santa, I would, but we will submit." I started to scare me more than my mother that the police, because this could take them suripantos ball to the ball, but my mother would hang from the gizzards with everything and the damn sled (imaginary of course, that brought not fart?) For not toys arrive home. So bajóseme (as I said my dad) a little fart and tried to find a dignified exit in such a situation it would not let my first year of appointment Santoclosero, so I sat up, look to the horizon (it looked very little it was night), cleared my throat and told the pair of thieves: - "For favooooooor, I'm not here ... look trumpet official, I must deliver these toys to children on a house there and ..." At that time, a voice from the balcony of the house of my grandparents came to us in a quasi-melodic: - "Santaaaaaaaaaa ..., ¿TAS Santaaaaa on?" Feeling a mixture of grief and astonishment, I told these monkeys: - "Do you see?, Are calling me, should be Rodolfo". - "Come on then, you see these toys leave ... mmm .. Do not you give us our Holy pedote inche Christmas?" - "Mmmm, after a while that I will pass down to their homes .. byeeeeeeeeeeee". I went on fuck toward the house, ringing the bell old grandmother, while the balcony was all in anticipation. - "Mama, here comes Santa, is it looks, look .. sniff, sniff .. buaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, I had to see buuuuuu no longer going to let me nadaaaaaaa" I managed to hear one of my cousins when he saw this Sancho stunning Clos across the street. - "It must have stuck in your head" I thought as he walked without understanding the children's thinking these days. I must say that the sheets were like toys the first days of January, so that nearly dragged because Santa was fat, but was by no means strong. - "To his mother, it seems that all unassembled bicycles asked his toolbox and a bitch Olmec head at the entrance of the city, I like that not even the amuelan" babbling while my grandfather came probably laughed and laughed, and I could do with that long face that mockingly seeing black boots placed outfielder saying: - "Go ahead click Tupa, now your turn" My mom gave orders to Santa from the balcony as they turned around to see everyone (believers in Santa or not): - "Why do not laugh Santa?" - "For I bring to the Aztec stadium tucked in the sheets of the grandmother, I sweat like a marathon runner and since I have many, so a load of wanted to laugh," I thought, but ... pus or so, so it was my job: - "Jojojojojojoo" tried to imitate the fatso (I mean that other), while the cries of joy, tears and more orders from the balcony: - "Santaaa, enter the house of your you ... uh, by the fence at the izquierdaaaaaaaa" While the sweat fell profusely from my forehead, the beard was about to disintegrate and I about to start mentar mothers, remove the lock, I begin to open the gate and say aloud: - "Futa, well, how heavy is over." I never remember these things and less repeat aloud as something in the dark of the garage of my aunt began to move towards me. - "What now?" The "Coquette" (a pet doberman dog all of us) so uncaring snarled the strange red bellied that opened the gate. , "Grrrr, grrrrr ..." "Coquette, Coquetita ... linda" tried to calm the dog while the chirp of the grating competed with the pounding of the fuck toys. I tried to think of something that would make the dog calm down, I do not bite and the show to be perfect, so I took a Max Steel one of the nephews and tried to distract her with it. "Look Coquetita, quiet ... me ... Tupa, and cute and ..." The last thing I could see through the gloom was the full corncob dog pouncing on this already battered Santa ... "Yaaaaaaaa, no Mam Flirty!!, Am I stupid bitch ..." So he said to the pretty while you reveled splitting the mother's pillow over my aunt's red jacket, so the scene was Dantesca: A sheet full of toys blocking the gate, A Warrior "Max Steel" under the car my grandfather and a Doberman trying to kill a half fart Santa Claus, with a bell in one hand and the leg of a doberman in another. Just then, both (the bitch idiot and I) were startled at the steps of the whole family who came to observe Telerin from the back window as the triumphant Easter delivered the gifts and gave joy and happiness to Christmas in a grand show. So great must have been the surprise of my aunt when she sees me going down trying to break free of the dog and trying desperately to put the sheet of toys. - "Coquette" said my aunt energetic. - "I leave Santa" finished telling this quadruped schizophrenic. Do not know how one of my cousins heard that last comment and leaked the news among the other cousins that Santa had suffered a mishap, the latter only guess because I saw one of them mourn bitterly and tell my Uncle Joe: Snif snif Paaaapaaa Co ... sniff ... Harriet ... this .. boo .. do to kill ... San ... taaaa ... booed, boo" When I got desasirme of the Coquette and finally entering the house, the family toooda I looked through a glass and a mosquito net as 8 meters from me and the light to medium chiles, so they could not make neatly. - "Jojojojo, Congratulations to all." Told that while, noted that the belly had it aside and instead of Santa, it seemed some sort of horror movie character of the silver-masked Santo against the Vikings on skates, as well as the latest "jojojo" I felt like cotton that my beard was already falling and threatening to cause terror among my cousins, since disfigured beyond, santa would appear to be losing his beard to pieces and would risk me as Freddy Cruegger to leave. - "Jojojouesuputamadre, fucking bitch, but I know that I am spiteful and vindictive as Huitzilopochtli" thought while talking and sent a message of love and peace. So I grabbed with both hands the sheets and dropped the toys making noise and causing colossal reconveniencia my mother: - "Oh Santa, Holy carefully, close the gate ehhhhh?" I slipped as I could from that place at all costs avoid the Coquette, I went to my other aunt to move me as the children open the toys and gave Betito something to the impression of seeing almost killed Santa. It changed and bathed entered the house and my cousin Elizabeth tells me square eyes: - "Tupa, Did not you see Santa?" Aim was to answer: - "If I seemed to see kept in the closet" but instead, the question politely refused and prepared to hear your next question, but my grandfather interrupted him, saying: - "No eejit, do not you see I did not see him, as was platícale all!". Isabel, with the tone I can remember child looks at me and says: - "I tell you?". FI N.
1.1 2.1 3.1 4.1 5.1 6.1 7.1 8.1 9.1 10.1 11.1 12.1 13.1 14.1 14.2 15.1 16.1 17.1 18.1 19.1 20.1 21.1 22.1 23.1 24.1 25.1 26.1 27.1 28.1 29.1 30.1 31.1 32.1 33.1 33.2 34.1 35.1 36.1 37.1 38.1 39.1 40.1 41.1 42.1 43.1 44.1 44.2 44.3 45.1 46.1 47.1 48.1 49.1 50.1 51.1 52.1 53.1 54.1 55.1 56.1 57.1 58.1 59.1 60.1 61.1 62.1 63.1 64.1 65.1 65.2 66.1 67.1 68.1 69.1 70.1 71.1 72.1 73.1 74.1 74.2 74.3 75.1 76.1 77.1 78.1 79.1 80.1 81.1 82.1 83.1 84.1 85.1 86.1 87.1 88.1 89.1
Scríofa i Nollaig 2011 Mar a bhfuil siad ag mothú an chéad gheimhreadh fuar, is cosúil go bhfuil thart ar gach cúinne, idir mented mented agus carúil tiománaithe agus a chloisteáil tús na mothúcháin is fearr de na daoine a dromchla (féach Oaxaca mar shampla), a tháinig go dtí mo intinn a chuimhne ar eachtra a tharla ar oíche an 24 Nollaig. Logh duit, a léitheoir, gur b'fhéidir go bhfuil mo ró-fhada scéalta agus uaireanta a scoilt, ach is dóigh liom go bhfuil an toradh deiridh fiú go maith é, mar sin ag ceann amháin, dhá, agus trí: Rabhadh: Caithfidh mé a rá go bhfuil an méid atá scríofa ansin beidh mé ag baint sa chéad duine toisc nach féidir liom é a tharla, ach an tonic don ainsealach seo bunaithe anois thosaigh féin: "Cosúil le gach Nollag, blianta fada go leor, le chéile sa Chathair agus Phort Veracruz, mo chro, a gcuid leanaí agus garchlann. Torthaí ar bhealach a an ua is sine atá mé féin agus mo dheirfiúracha agus pa'l iarbhír, teacht ar mo chol ceathracha cascáideacha aois mar theaghlach Telerin le haghaidh an am sin, bhí na n-aoiseanna idir 7 mbliana agus 3 bliana níos is ísle (blackouts leithscéal a ghabháil leat, ach tar éis an oiread sin alcóil, tá sé ar cheann rud éigin ... deirimid "dañadito") thart. Sa ócáid onórach, dhiúltaigh mo sheanathair flatly a arb iad is sainairíonna mar Santa Claus don am umpteenth, mar sin iompú muid timpeall a fheiceáil dúinn go léir shocked a fheiceáil a chomhlíon an riachtanas le haghaidh an ócáid agus roghnaigh comharba fiú. Agus an guth angelic de mo mháthair naofa druileáilte an chuid ó dheas de mo eardrum nuair a dúirt mé go ton síoraí mellow: - "Come on Tupa, do sheal." Chas mé a fheiceáil a aghaidh "Tá mé ná rub" agus nóiméad ina dhiaidh sin rinne mé a shamhlú gúna dearg, leis an te fucking, le mála na bréagáin aice le crann agus shouting jojojojojojo. Ní raibh mé ag cuid mhór ama chun smaoineamh faoi, mar gheall ar a chonaic mo sheanathair i mo bhealach amach as an carachtar uimhir uatha agus chuaigh láithreach do na buataisí rubair dubh le bearradh na probármelas ghairdín agus gach duine eile cinneadh a bheith ag comhoibriú leis an ainmniú thabhairt gabhálais eile. ("Havemus Santa", shíl mé). "Tá sé sin 'mo aintín agus d'fhéach mé go léir pants dearg le mo sheanathair mar cóiste an Globetrotters, soilse Santa cúinne hata, féasóg bréagach déanta de chadás Mexicana Comercial, cúpla bealach piliúir bolg (mbeadh a thuilleadh a bheith ag teastáil .. sniff), le teas Super na máthar agus ar ndóigh ... an péire garraíodóir dubh buataisí inche. Tú barbarian, Bhí tú díreach cosúil le ...". Sea, go díreach mar a thrasnaigh Freddy Crugger le Barney! Shíl mé, ach mar gheall ar "Tá an méid atá déanta a dhéanamh (nó bolg sa chás seo)" agus ullmhaithe chun mo chuid oibre mar Santa réasúnta is féidir a bhí mar oidhreacht ar deireadh post oinigh agus mhothaigh roinnt freagracht ar mo chúl ( tar éis go raibh freagracht ar materialize i málaí le bréagáin ach mar sin féin). Agus díograiseach, a iarraidh ar mo aintín: - "Tá mé ag dul go dtí an cúinne?" (Ceadaigh dom an soiléiriú a dhéanamh anseo go bhfuil an bealach traidisiúnta na Jarocho Santa ó choirnéal an teach go dtí an doras tosaigh, rud éigin cosúil le 40 méadar). Chun a d'fhreagair sí binn: - "Níl aon Tupa, tamall de bhlianta anuas i uair an chloig faoi, nach bhfuil leanaí réidh agus tá míle rudaí a dhéanamh." Queeeeeeeeeeeeeee, Agus a thuill Martha" Shíl mé. Chiallaigh ag fanacht ar uair an chloig ag teocht beagán níos lú ná ceann amháin de muerto oigheann uile, nuair a bhí gach duine eile úr mar leitís agus taitneamh as an trealamh bia agus dí. Mo uncail Otto ghlac trua liom agus mé a fháil pacáiste sé de Coronas, a ionghabháil beagnach láithreach chun cosc a chur dehydration agus dá bhrí sin idir chela chela agus vanished an ama comhaontaithe. Go gairid i ndiaidh thosaigh mé ag mothú mareadón leath agus ag an nóiméad sin a dúirt mo aintín liom: - "Díol Santa, agus téigh go dtí an chúinne." - "Sui aintín" a dúirt mé le guth na meisce leath Alex Lora. Agus bhí mé mar sin, i mbun cúpla leatháin de seanmháthair le ualach na bréagáin, i pants, buataisí, teas, agus an pitcher i dtreo an streetlight ar an choirnéal brandishing cochall a cheilt a bhí ar mo sheanathair mo sheanmháthair agus thug dom é a dhéanamh "níos réadúla" an teachta triumphant. Faltabanme cúpla méadar chun teacht ar an pointe nuair a chuala mé go guth mhín ó, fireann agus oilte go characterizes ár staid póilíní heroic nuair a dúirt sé: - "Gach ceart ar mo Santa?" Buille faoi thuairim mé a dúirt mé roinnt milleán ar an chléir nó mar gheall ar an stát tar éis d'oscail mé an hocicote Nollag, na mbím, agus chuala mé dhá cheann acu go soiléir mar a bheadh duine a rá go ceann eile: - "Conas a dhéanann tú comhpháirtíochta"? Ar deireadh, chas sé liom, ag insint dom go díreach cad a bhí mé a iarraidh, an oíche sin, ag an uair, an lá sin: - "Déanaimis a fheiceáil Santa, buille mé ..." - "Futa, is é seo a fháil gonna ghránna" Shíl mé, ach ní raibh a lán rudaí a tharlóidh an oíche sin. Nuair .. Polecía Téann beagnach ar ais go dtí an dragonazo alcólacha agus na stadanna eile cuireann sé: - "Újule mo Santa, tá cosc a ól go poiblí, fiú ar do shon, a thabhairt ar a aithint?". - "Nou, buille faoi thuairim mé go raibh mé ar an carr sleamhnáin." - "Mmmta Santa, ba mhaith liom, ach beidh muid isteach." Thosaigh mé le scanradh orm níos mó ná mo mháthair go bhfuil na póilíní, toisc go bhféadfadh seo iad a ghlacadh suripantos liathróid chuig an liathróid, ach bheadh mo mháthair hang as an gizzards le gach rud agus an sled diabhal (samhailfhadú ar ndóigh, nach bhfuil a thug fart?) I gcás nach bréagáin teacht abhaile. Mar sin, bajóseme (mar a dúirt mé mo dhaid) a fart beag agus iarracht a fháil amach dignified i staid den sórt sin nach mbeadh sé in iúl mo chéad bhliain den Santoclosero cheapadh, mar sin shuigh mé suas, breathnú go bun an aeir (fhéach sé an-beag bhí sé oíche), glanadh mo scornach agus d'inis an péire thieves: - "Do favooooooor, níl mé anseo ... oifigiúil trumpa cuma, ní mór dom na bréagáin a sheachadadh do leanaí ar tí ann agus ..." Ag an am sin, tháinig guth ó bhalcóin an teach mo sheantuismitheoirí dúinn i quasi-séiseach: - "Santaaaaaaaaaa ..., ¿TAS Santaaaaa ar?" Mothú meascán de grief agus astonishment, dúirt mé leis na mhoncaí: - "An bhfeiceann tú, An bhfuil glaoch orm, ba chóir go mbeadh Rodolfo?". - "Come on ansin, a fheiceann tú na bréagáin a fhágáil ... Mmm .. Ná thugann tú dúinn ár gcuid Naofa pedote inche Nollag?" - "Mmmm, tar éis tamaill go mbeidh mé pas a fháil síos ar a dtithe .. byeeeeeeeeeeee". Chuaigh mé ar fuck i dtreo an teach, ag bualadh an clog seanmháthair d'aois, nuair a bhí an mbalcóin ar fad in oirchill. - "Mama, is anseo a thagann Santa, tá sé, breathnú .. .. sniff mm, sniff .. buaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, bhí orm a fheiceáil buuuuuu a thuilleadh dul chun ligean dom nadaaaaaaa" éirigh liom a chloisteáil ar cheann de mo chol ceathracha nuair a chonaic sé seo Clabhstraí The Cloisters Féile iontacha ar fud na sráide. - "Caithfidh sé a bheith greamaithe i do cheann" Shíl mé mar a shiúil sé gan tuiscint na bpáistí ag smaoineamh ar na laethanta seo. Caithfidh mé a rá go raibh na bileoga cosúil le bréagáin an chéad lá d'Eanáir, ionas go dragged beagnach toisc go raibh Santa saill, ach ní raibh ar chor ar bith láidir. - "A mháthair, is cosúil go léir a d'iarr rothair neamhchóimeáilte a bosca uirlisí agus soith Olmec ceann ag an mbealach isteach na cathrach, is maith liom nach fiú an amuelan" babbling agus tháinig mo sheanathair dócha gáire agus gáire, agus d'fhéadfadh sé liom a dhéanamh leis an duine fada gur chuir buataisí mockingly bhfaca dubh outfielder ag rá: - "Téigh amach romhainn cliceáil Tupa, anois do sheal" My mam orduithe a thug Santa ó na BALCÓIN mar a iompú siad a fheiceáil ar fud gach duine (creidimh i Santa nó nach ea): - "Cén fáth nach gáire Santa?" - "Le haghaidh a thabhairt I a ghabhann leis an staidiam Aztec tucked in bileoga an seanmháthair, allais mé mar a bheadh rádala Marathon agus ós rud é go bhfuil mé go leor, mar sin bhí ina ualach a gáire," Shíl mé, ach ... pus nó mar sin, mar sin bhí sé mo phost: - "Jojojojojojoo" iarracht aithris a dhéanamh ar an fatso (Ciallaíonn mé go eile), agus an cries an-áthas, deora agus orduithe níos mó as an BALCÓIN: - "Santaaa, dul isteach ar an teach de do leat ... uh, an fál ag an izquierdaaaaaaaa" Cé gur thit an sweat profusely ó mo forehead, bhí an meigeall ar tí disintegrate agus mé ar tí tosú máithreacha mentar, an glas a bhaint, tús a chur mé a oscailt an geata agus a rá os ard: - "Futa, go maith é, conas trom os a chionn." Mé riamh cuimhneamh ar na rudaí seo agus arís níos lú os ard mar rud i an dorchadas an gharáiste de mo aintín thosaigh sé ag bogadh i dtreo dom. - "Cad é anois?" An "coquette" (a Doberman peataí madraí dúinn ar fad) ionas uncaring snarled an bellied aisteach dearg go oscail an geata. , "Grrrr, grrrrr ..." "Coquette, Coquetita ... linda" thriail go calma an madra agus an iomaíocht chirp na gríle leis an pounding na bréagáin fuck. Rinne mé iarracht smaoineamh ar rud éigin a bheadh a dhéanamh ar an madra calma síos, ní féidir liom a bite agus an seó a bheith foirfe, agus mar sin ghlac mé Cruach Max ar cheann de na nianna agus iarracht a distract di leis. "Féach Coquetita, ciúin ... ... Tupa dom, agus gleoite agus ..." Ba é an rud deireanach raibh mé in ann a fheiceáil tríd an ghruaim an madra corncob iomlán pouncing ar an Santa cheana féin buailte ... "Yaaaaaaaa, aon Flirty Mham!, Am I soith dúr ..." Mar sin, dúirt sé leis an deas agus reveled tú scoilteadh na máthar pillow os mo aintín a jacket dearg, mar sin ar an radharc a bhí Dantesca: A clár iomlán na bréagáin blocála an geata, A Trodaí "Max Cruach" faoi an carr mo sheanathair agus Doberman ag iarraidh a mharú go leith fart Santa Claus, le clog i lámh amháin agus an cos ar Doberman i mBallstát eile. Díreach ansin, bhí an dá geit (an leathcheann soith agus I) ag na céimeanna ar an teaghlach ar fad a tháinig Telerin a thabhairt faoi deara ó fhuinneog ar ais mar a sheachadtar na Cásca triumphant na bronntanais agus thug áthas agus sonas a Nollag i mhór thaispeáint. Ní mór chomh mór curtha ar an iontas mo aintín nuair a fheiceann sí ag dul liom síos ag iarraidh a bhriseadh saor in aisce ar an madra agus ag iarraidh desperately a chur ar an gclár de bhréagáin. - "Coquette" a dúirt mo aintín fuinniúil. - "Fág mé Santa" críochnaithe ag insint seo schizophrenic quadruped. Níl a fhios agam conas a chuala ceann de mo chol ceathracha a comment caite agus leaked an nuacht i measc na Cousins eile a bhí i gceist Santa a mishap, buille faoi thuairim an dara ceann amháin mar a chonaic mé ar cheann acu bhrón go ctuaidh 'mo Uncail Joe insint: Snif snif Paaaapaaa Co ... sniff ... ... Harriet seo .. boo .. a dhéanamh chun a mharú ... San ... ... taaaa booed, boo" Nuair a fuair mé desasirme an coquette agus ar deireadh ag teacht isteach sa teach, d'fhéach an teaghlach toooda mé trí gloine agus glan mosquito mar 8 méadar ó mé agus solas a chiles mheán, mar sin ní fhéadfadh siad a dhéanamh go néata. - "Jojojojo, Comhghairdeas le gach duine." Dúirt cé go, faoi deara go raibh an bolg sé ar leataobh agus ina ionad sin de Santa, agus bhain sé éigin de charachtar scannán uafáis an Santo airgead-maisc orthu in aghaidh na Lochlannaigh ar scátaí, chomh maith leis an is déanaí "jojojo" Bhraith mé cosúil le cadás go raibh mo féasóg titim cheana féin agus ag bagairt terror a chur faoi deara i measc mo chol ceathracha, ó thar disfigured, bheadh Santa dealraitheach a chailliúint dá féasóg chun píosaí agus ba mhaith liom riosca mar Freddy Cruegger a fhágáil. - "Jojojouesuputamadre, fucking soith, ach tá a fhios agam go bhfuil mé spiteful agus vindictive mar Huitzilopochtli" Shíl ag caint agus a sheoladh teachtaireacht an ghrá agus na síochána. Mar sin, rug mé leis an dá lámh na bileoga agus thit na bréagáin a dhéanamh torann agus is cúis le colossal reconveniencia mo mháthair: - "Ó Santa, Naofa go cúramach, dún an geata ehhhhh?" Shleamhnaigh mé mar a thiocfadh liom as an áit sin ar na costais go léir a sheachaint an coquette, chuaigh mé go dtí mo aintín eile chun bogadh liom mar a oscailt na leanaí na bréagáin agus thug Betito rud éigin ar an tuiscint go bhfaca Santa beagnach marbh. D'athraigh sé agus bathed isteach ar an teach agus mo chol ceathrair Elizabeth insíonn mé súile cearnach: - "Tupa ní, An bhfaca tú Santa?" Aidhm a bhí a fhreagairt: - "Más rud é an chuma liom a fheiceáil á choimeád sa closet" ach ina ionad sin, dhiúltaigh an cheist go múinte agus ullamh chun éisteacht le do cheist eile, ach mo sheanathair isteach air, ag rá: - "Níl aon eejit, nach tú a fheiceáil nach bhfaca mé é, mar a bhí platícale go léir!". Isabel, leis an ton féidir liom cuimhneamh leanbh Breathnaíonn ag dom agus deir: - "Inis mé duit?". FI N.