On the topic: The Storm and the Day After.
Part Eight: Another day later.
Phew! You have already passed the presentations part.
Now you are preparing to go to the job that has been assigned to you. you must go to the vegetable garden / the cornfield / the mechanical workshop / the board warehouse / the kitchen / the dining room / the budding auditorium / the community school / etcetera / etcetera / did I already say that etcetera?
You prepare yourself mentally, you inhale and exhale (although it seems more like you sigh). You are about to ask where the hell the place is, when a young girl (you estimate that she must be between 19 and 20 years old) approaches you and greets you.
Smiling, she introduces herself: “My name is Defensa and I call myself “Zapatista”, what is your name?” You hesitate before giving your name, and you regret not being able to choose your name with something this suggestive.
She continues smiling and says: “I’m going to accompany you to where you need to go. «I’m going to make sure nothing bad happens to you.»
You are puzzled: “Nothing bad? Like what?»
The little girl: “Well, all of a sudden there is a tick, a beet, a snake, a scorpion or a spider. The other day the captain was bitten by a spider they call “violinist”. Violinist the spider, not the captain. «That one doesn’t even play the triangle.»
You swallow. The girl, taking you by the hand and leading you to the place: “I’m going to teach you what you have to do and I’m going to take care of you.” Goes on: “we know that you are worth it and we have to take care of you. In the community, before everything that happened happened, we already knew and understood that people like you are important for tomorrow.”
You feel like your heart is pounding and a little debris gets in your eye, but you try to stay calm. As its guardian often says: “I don’t want to hear about it, resistance and rebellion.”
As you walk through a gap, a noise of agitated birds is heard. Of course, you think it’s a pack of snakes, scorpions and spiders. You remain motionless. The young girl laughs and explains:
“It is the bird we call “Juanchío”, because it does this when it sings: “juanchío, juanchío”. That means his heart is happy. Look at it, it’s black. We love and care for that bird, because it almost always travels in collective groups. Several of them, together. And when it sees danger, it warns. It goes “pit, pit, pit.” But since there are several of them, they make a big noise. And they are getting stronger and closer together, and they show you with their noise where the threat is, depending on whether it is a snake or a wild cat. In other words, it shows you where the evil is.”
You swallow again and ask, “Is there a bush cat too?”
“Yes,” she answers, “I think you call it “tigrillo.” “It’s smaller than the puma.”
“P… p… puma?!, you stutter and, inwardly, you curse the system, the storm and the day after.
She continues: “It also tells the smaller animals when the hawk or the eagle or the snake is around. As a group they take turns pecking at the bad guy, so that the little ones have time to protect themselves.”
Your skin is already washed white when you ask: “And right now, is it a snake or a bush cat or a puma?”
“None,” she says, laughing. “It’s just love. Two of them are falling in love, the male and the female, and they make a lot of noise and they even seem to float in the air so that they can be seen to be very handsome.»
You must still be shaking, because the young girl clarifies: “But don’t worry, they also fight and scold each other. “That is, they love each other.”
-*-
Later, in the dining room, those who had the arts and sciences as a curse, and now as a blessing, instinctively sit together. Everyone begins to tell how their first day went as part of the whole that they call “community” here.
When it is your turn and you start with the name of your guardian, someone else remembers that theirs is called “Esperanza Zapatista.” And he adds: “and hope, in these times, is always appreciated.”
Someone from applied sciences interrupts you: “You were lucky. My guardian introduced herself with the not at all reassuring name of “the Zapatista Calamity.” I don’t know, but I don’t feel calm. I have a feeling that something bad may happen.”
Laughter echoes in the battered gallery that serves as a dining room and that, at the entrance and to name it, has a sign that decrees: “At least in food, not a step back! (If you have to bathe, you better think about it carefully).”
-*-
P.S. WHICH INTERRUPTS AND WHERE THE CAPTAIN CLARIFIES THAT YES BUT NO (the mysterious case of the lost violin). – Yes, I was bitten by a so-called “violinist” spider. I did what any straight, cultured, well-informed male would do. That is, I took one of those little boxes of electric shocks (which used to be found in parks, town fairs, carnivals and cantinas – and which I don’t know if they still exist), and I self-medicated a full shock. 120 volts that outperform any loaded black coffee.
I waited patiently but no. My legendary clumsiness, hardened by decades of conscious practice, continued. I tried to see if I could climb the walls, but the dogs just looked at me and, thinking it was a trendy dance for TikTok, tried to imitate the movements. To sum up: I did not transform. I’ll have to continue being a superhero without superpowers. Of course, the spider died of poisoning. What? Do you think I should worry? I think there wasn’t enough voltage… Moral: don’t believe Peter Parker. If you see a spider, don’t panic. Just run for your life.
-*-
Shortly after, the one who introduced himself as “Supreme Chief of Health Prevention, Vaccination, Wash your hand, Necropsies and Annexes, Death Certificates and others” arrived. Is it necessary to clarify that the subject in question looked remarkably like a beetle?
He entered the cellar, covered the room with a quick glance and said: “I’ve come to see the victim.” Although distrustful of the “Chief etcetera” appearance, I rolled up my shirt sleeves and waited for him to turn on the baumanometer. Him: “Not you. I said the victim, that is, the spider.” Surprised, I pointed to the corner where the body of the now martyr lay. The beetle in a medical gown approached and analyzed her in detail. When he was satisfied, he declared: “There is no doubt, she died from an overdose of nicotine.” Then, inquisitorially, he added: “Do you smoke a lot?” Me: “sometimes, a little, very occasionally, although always a little a lot.” “Uh-huh,” said the medical examiner. “I’m afraid, my big-nosed friend, that you have a crime. Two crimes, to be more precise.” «Me? Why? She started it first because she stung me without a single warning.” The subject in question took out a little notebook from who knows where and, writing in it, added: “Homicide by transfusion in a perverse degree. Uh, that’s serious, you’re in trouble.” I tried to protest: “But Durito…” He: “Not Durito, you must address me as “your Eminence” and the other crime is… mh… mh… theft of an artistic instrument!” I was bewildered: “But I didn’t steal anything!” The Arthropod Prosecutor: “Isn’t that a fiddler spider?” “Well yes, that’s what they call them,” I hesitated. “Ergo, where is the violin?”
-*-
I have looked everywhere for the violin and nothing. I was thinking that maybe I would need a lawyer, when the same character appeared, but now in a cap and gown. He enters with a ceremonious step and hands me a card that reads “Tough but Tight Law Firm”, president, main shareholder and sole member: Don Durito, prosecutor, judge, lawyer and executioner of lost causes. We have home delivery service with a digital application – the Premium service includes discounts on the stay in “Everyone’s feared hell” -. Modest rates. Only euros, Canadian dollars and yuans.”
I think I’m lost… Send over tobacco, people! Hey, hey.
Moral 2. – Don’t smoke. In addition to endangering your health, you risk your freedom.
From the roof of the ‘champa’, preparing my best jump into the void.
The Captain.
November 2024.
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