This time I want to return to mention absurd situations that occur in the park in the area between Dorrego Wheelright and President Roca thereabout. That place that does not know his name, but surely is an absurd name, for example, " Freedom Square" or " Justice Square, saw that they put those names usually assholes ... What if in this ispa had " freedom" or " justice", but what can we do, right?
Well, it turns out, that, as we all know, I walk my dog \u200b\u200bthere. Some say: - There! What a snob! - But no, the first time I got to walk my dog \u200b\u200bwhen she was released from quarantine of the first three months in which not only should not go out, but, if so, must be UPA ( the dog knows it has to speak ) painted long in that place, she made friends with some ten dogs of various breeds and ages and their owners were types ropes, so the square unsaddled Snob. Who likes either, and no, that is tanned.
In the railing facing the river is a ravine that leads to it. And the bottom of that canyon live the mysterious men in black of strip "Macanudo " of Liniers. Some guys terribly dark, they teach respect and distance, as few in this city, dressed in huge inflatable camperones, hats and scarves to protect their true identities, leaving only the views of the parishioners that the sighted, the eye line. Intimidating eyes and inquisitors, of course.
and live down there. Until recently I had not seen or had not made contact, but there was a rumor of his presence. Several groups of normal human who will play football there were victims of the mysterious men in black , losing the ball in their hands. Balls or anything that falls down there are automatically obscure sect conquered by the gully.
One day, Saturday morning, early, I was with my dog \u200b\u200bnear the railing, which I never do, but not by fear but by laziness, as the car is far from me, but I ran into the area canidae and followed, innocent, with my cup of hot coffee. And I got ready to smoke the morning faso, uncompromising service that I have had for decades.
At the time I get my cigarette from its box, you see a head in the grass of the cliff, hidden by a hat and scarf and begins at me, threatening. I became Olympian asshole and continued with my task, but from the corner of my left eye saw that the head had decided, at my indifference, and out of the bushes near my integritud, so I started to walk away.
The mysterious man in black followed me, untimely, a strategic angled two meters behind my right shoulder blade while my dog, boluda important if any, he was playing and jumping. Then I had to stop and turn around. And I looked into his eyes. And I found at least his nationality was Chilean. The
trasandino looked hard at me and ordered me to: - Give me a cigarette - To which I replied, he had no more (which some other hand) Then I pointed to the pocket where my empty box by bagged and returned to order: - Give me a cigarette -
As I do not like being bossy and a lot less than a Chilean mandonée me cold , took the empty box fasos of my pocket and threw it in the face as he said in an energetic tone - I have no (pok ! - noise banging his nose box) If you say no I have is because I have, and if I have the cash in your pocket is to not dirty the park - and I left the dog tied to the side of the car.
Chilean indignantly, continued following me and harassing me, saying Chilean indecipherable behind my shoulder, but I kept my pace and did not give ball until almost feel her breath on my neck, which is why I stopped and turned back to me. And indeed. We had an inch. - do not know what you're saying, Chile. And I do not care - I offered as a last resort. The Chilean looked hard at me and told me, always threatening, the empty box of butts in the hand: - This? - supported me in the chest box - I throw it in the trash - and went to his ravine.
A week back to the park and also very early, I decided, seeing no one and my dog \u200b\u200bgarca quiet, smoke a faso with my freshly bought at the precise moment it appears by the side of the street another mysterious man in black, about 2, 30 meters tall, wearing a black, inflatable camperón that came on the heels ( not know where he got, there is no camperón so great, do not annoy me ) and appeared to levitate instead of walking, the rigid, tubular a coat.
looked like a refrigerator with freezer in black had come alive and decided to walk out of that Saturday morning. And he got on the grass, diagonal, due to his dark abode: The estate of the mysterious men in black , which is downhill, on the side of "Down Spain." When my dog \u200b\u200bsees him approach her, floating 10 inches off the ground like a ghost, put his tail between his legs and darted to the side of the silos. Shouted his name several times, but did not give me ball, turning in a blink of an eye the 30 meters that once separated us in many more than 100. So I threw the butt and shit coffee and ran to fetch ( had never done such a thing, I always ignore ).
In the run to the rescue of my dog \u200b\u200bwith panic attack, happened near mysterious black man standing between my dog \u200b\u200band I at the time of the explosion canine.
The mysterious man in black turns, looks at me and says, pointing at the horizon, with an innocent smile on his face:
- Poor thing, I must have scared the ... -
I looked at him answered: - Yes is most likely - and walked away. Near
silos, finally, I could catch it.
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