Short Story para cortometraje.
“El NIÑO”
En el plato podía observarse una porción de brócoli, arvejas, lechuga y coles de bruselas. Era el quinto día que el niño almorzaba comida verde. Por más que intentaban ponerle rebanadas de tomate o carne, se rehusaba a comerlos, debían ser estrictamente alimentos verdes o de otra manera no se los comería.
Ustedes pensarán que es extraño que a un niño le gusten las coles de bruselas, ya que se ven como pequeños cerebros de seres verdes de aproximadamente 3 centímetros de diámetro, y su sabor probablemente se les parezca; sin embargo, el niño no se ha quejado esta semana de ver lo mismo sobre la mesa. Mientras sea verde, no protestará.
En la cocina todos se han conmocionado ante tal episodio. El chef Astoriello, con la mano rozando el mentón, varias veces exclamó: “¡Ma que cosa il bambino mangiando coles, de dónde ha sacado, de dónde!”. La señora Dotilia llevaba el charol a la mesa con gran aplomo, y al colocarse junto al niño, con el entrecejo en zigzag dijo:
-Aquí tienes tu almuerzo exactamente como estuvo ayer, antes de ayer, y un día antes del día antes de ayer. Buen provecho. ¿Seguro no se te antojan unas papas fritas, alguna porción de helado, o un poco de refresco tal vez?
-He dicho que no. Gracias señora Dotilia- respondió el niño como un completo autómata mientras observaba un portaretratos junto al plato y tomaba parsimoniosamente el tenedor de plata a su izquierda.
-De todas las casas en las que he trabajado, definitivamente ésta es la más extraña-pensó la señora Dotilia al darse media vuelta, luego de dejar el charol y retornar a sus labores.
En el vecindario ya se escuchaban comentarios sobre los inusuales hábitos alimenticios del niño. La criada de la casa aledaña mencionaba su rechazo a los dulces y chocolates en sus visitas de juego, pero había alguien a quién estos sucesos nada sorprendían. Se trataba de la niña de la paleta roja, la que ser obaba la tiza de la maestra y dibujaba una rayuela en plena avenida. La niña de la foto en el portaretratos sobre la mesa, la que a cambio de comerse sus vegetales durante una semana, había prometido a nuestro niño verde, un beso sabor a frambuesa.
Short Story para el concurso "Muppets Talk Show"
THE BACON GUY.
I have this friend who is really into Halloween. I thought I was really into halloween because I love to plan everything about costumes and props, but this guy is like, totally crazy about it. So, this year he met a girl online who LOVED bacon. I thought I really loved bacon, but this girl is like, totally crazy about it. She’s like, bacon crazy: “bacon this”, “bacon that”, “bacon here”, “bacon everywhere”. It’s like she makes me hate bacon everytime I hear that word coming from her mouth. She is a bacon poser.
Anyway, my Halloween crazy friend was into this girl, and after a few weeks of chatting and facebooking and tumblring and tweetering, he decides to ask her out. You know, to finally meet each other in person. The thing is that, this girl, told him that she liked mystery. I though I liked mystery, but this girl is like “let’s not say our names”, “let’s not show our real faces”, “let’s just get more online adrenaline”. It’s like she’s nuts for mystery. She’s mysteriously nuts. A mysteriously nuts bacon poser.
So, one week remaining for halloween and my friend comes up with what he said was the best idea for a costume: he was gonna dress up as bacon. A fluffly 1,75 bacon strip that would “randomly” appear where this girl would go. That’s right, he was planning to stalk her.
He had a map of all her Forsquare’s check-ins. He was doing a great job as a stalker. I thought I did a great job as a stalker, but this guy was like “I’m gonna stop by her favorite cookie store and wave at her”, “I’m gonna run into her at the park and give her a balloon”, “I’m gonna lend her a pen at the bank”. It’s like he had completely lost it, you know, like who would ever let a big fluffly walking bacon strip inside a bank? I would.
I definitely would. But I’m the same person who told the cops to arrest my halloween crazy friend for surprising his soon-to-become girlfriend outside her office. It wasn’t Halloween anymore, It had been a week since Halloween and he was still wearing that bacon outfit so she could take pictures of him and post them in every social network. I thought I posted pictures in every social network, but she was like “OMG bacon is here again”, “Oh wow, bacon brought me chocolate chip cookies. They are my favorite <3 “, “Guess who came to take a walk at the park, aww such a lovely thing” I was freaking out. I was baconfreaking out. I needed to stop it and tell him how I felt, but I couldn’t.
And that’s why I became a vegan.
Short Story para proyecto de libro ilustrado.
There’s something weird about the guy next door, but there’s something weirder about those watching him.
They are everywhere around the house; invisible to his eyes. They are laughing inside the fridge, hiding in the egg cups. They are standing right beside the closet, waiting for his ghosts to get out and yell at them in C-minor.
Nobody at the street has noticed about the glass mailbox, or those burgundy frogs singing farfetched melodies with their eyes to the sky. The only thing that it’s known is the tune in their heads, that hitchhiking tune that rested on our guy’s tongue and got spread in the air of his midnight hour, when the nurse’s radio was on, when the world went away.
They are everywhere around the house; invisible to his eyes. They are laughing inside the fridge, hiding in the egg cups. They are standing right beside the closet, waiting for his ghosts to get out and yell at them in C-minor.
Nobody at the street has noticed about the glass mailbox, or those burgundy frogs singing farfetched melodies with their eyes to the sky. The only thing that it’s known is the tune in their heads, that hitchhiking tune that rested on our guy’s tongue and got spread in the air of his midnight hour, when the nurse’s radio was on, when the world went away.
