La intrascendente y común tragedia del indiferente Señor Monotonía

Veinticuatro dividido entre cuarenta y ocho: un medio; demasiado riesgo, petición denegada. cuatro dividido entre dieciséis: un cuarto; demasiado riesgo, petición denegada. Cinco dividido entre cien y veinticinco: uno sobre veinticinco; riesgo aceptable, petición aceptada. Siguiente caso, siguiente, siguiente...

Los formatos de petición se encontraban apilados a la izquierda del señor Monotonía, a su derecha los ya tramitados, divididos en aceptados y denegados. A sus espaldas, la tenue luz que se filtraba por la simple y cuadrada ventana dejaba ver que el sol comenzaba a menguar: pronto serían las ocho, hora de ir a casa; Consciente de esto, el señor Monotonía comenzó a recoger sus cosas con el mismo paso tranquilo e indiferente que lo caracterizaba, la misma actitud que le había ganado su apodo. Su verdadero nombre era “Montoní”, pero hacía ya varios años que sus compañeros habían optado por cambiar su apellido. “Cielos Montoní” le había dicho en broma el jefe unas semanas después de haber empezado el trabajo “un día mas sin que rías o te enojes, y empezaré a pensar que has mentido, y tu verdadero nombre es Monotonía”. Y así, sin mas ni menos, comenzaron a llamarle de aquella manera. No que le importase -ni siquiera le interesaba-, mientras no alterara su horario, el mundo le venía siendo indiferente. Así era él, Señor Monotonía a su servicio.

Camino a casa, pensó en la rutina que seguía: llegar a casa, cenar, bañarse, estar con Ana; Al llegar a casa, Ana lo recibió con una sonrisa y un plato de su corte de carne favorito. “Claro” pensó el señor Monotonía, “hoy es jueves”. Había olvidado la rutina del jueves: llegar a casa, cenar, bañarse con Ana, tener sexo, dormir; “Que va” pensó, “mientras mas rápido mejor”. No era que le molestara el sexo (en realidad lo consideraba moderadamente entretenido), era solo que, con Ana, esto implicaba un agregado: hablar de bebés; “Amor” solía comenzar, “cuando tendremos una familia?”, a lo que el solía responder “cuando los dios lo manden”. Claro que el no confiaba en los dioses, el confiaba en las Matemáticas: un tercio de probabilidad que Ana estuviera fértil, un quinto de probabilidad que el condón fallase; total: un quinceavo de probabilidad, punto cero sesenta y seis; riesgo aceptable. Y así, Ana pensaba que el señor Monotonía deseaba tener una familia, y el podía complacerla con poco riesgo.
Benditas Matemáticas.

Al día siguiente, el señor Monotonía -tal como lo hacía todos los días-, se levantó a las seis, se baño, besó a Ana (quien tenía dibujada una sonrisa mientras dormía, señal de sueños de niños y de la noche pasada), tomó su café y partió al trabajo. Al llegar a su oficina, el señor Monotonía comenzó con los trámites del día. Al dar la hora, recogió sus cosas y partió rumbo a su casa... Uno a uno, los días de rutina se fundieron en semanas de rutina, las semanas en meses, y así, el señor Monotonía fue feliz: feliz de su vida inalterable, feliz de su rutina;
Cierta noche de Agosto (una fría y silenciosa noche del segundo Jueves de Agosto, para ser exactos), el señor Monotonía llegó a su casa con el alma preparada para una noche de carne y sexo. Sin embargo, al abrir la puerta y ver el rostro de Ana, cuya sonrisa parecía querer saltar de su lugar, supo que aquella noche sería diferente. “Amor” fue lo primero que dijo Ana, sin poder contener la felicidad “nunca creerás lo que tengo que decirte”. Extrañado (y un poco molesto por el cambio de rutina), el señor Monotonía esperó a que Ana continuara. “Fui al doctor por un examen de rutina, y pareció perturbarle algo, así que pidió exámenes extra. al llegar los resultados, me dijo que al parecer estaba enferma, pero me sentiría mejor en nueve meses! nueve meses amor! estoy embarazada!”. Ella continuó hablando, pero el señor Monotonía había dejado de escuchar. Las matemáticas le habían fallado.
Mas tarde, acostado en su cama junto a Ana -quien dormía plácidamente-, el señor Monotonía reflexionaba. Las Matemáticas no le habían fallado, no podían haberle fallado: era el quien había errado, quien había calculado mal; Pero esta vez no lo haría, no habría errores: probabilidad de ser visitados el siguiente día: uno sobre doscientos; probabilidad de que ella gritase: tres cuartos; usando un método alterno: un décimo; Probabilidad de ser descubierto: un dosmilésimo; riesgo aceptable. Reconfortado el señor Monotonía volteó a ver a su esposa, sonrío, y se durmió.


Benditas Matemáticas.

ármonica

so, compre una armónica (=, es una bella y yo la amo, estuve practicando toda la tarde con ella y me encanta el sonido que produce, pienso ser lo mas constante que pueda, considerando la escuela y el gym, y con suerte mejore pronto (=, ahora lo único que le falta a mi pequeña es un nombre, un amigo sugirió lucy, y me gusta pero, no se, ya veré que pasa, es mi bebé después de todo, y tiene que ser un nombre especial.

btw una imagen de el modelo de mi preciosa

lovesick (II)

WARNING mature content ahead XD, si alguien se ofende fácilmente o tiene problemas con cosos, please don´t read :3, don´t say I didn´t warn you



Over the next few weeks, mamma Jean woke up to the same routine as she had during the first day his son took the medicine, in turn, her son seemed to become ever more lovng towards her: he would ask her to stay with him until he fell asleep, accompany her everywhere she went, clean for her, cook for her; Nevertheless, as perfect as mamma Jean found all this, she knew sooner or later Johnny would have to return to his own place, after all, he had already skipped a week of college, and only god knew how that would affect his grades. That´s why, one day, just when they were returning from a delightful picnic Johnny made for her, she told him “ma´boy, it´s been such a wonderful week, but, alas, don´t you think you should get back now? after all, your´e all but cured now, and as much as mamma loves you, it´s not right to skip class“, she´d never seen him so agitated in his whole life: when he heard what his mother had told him, Johnny started crying, screaming, trying all the time to hug his mother with both arms (something quite difficult, seeing as how Johnny was driving back from the picnic, turning his attempts on something more of a playing-with-death kind of thing rather than a loving gesture). “you don´t love me anymore!“ he screamed “you never did!, oh but mama, why?“, as he was saying this, they had arrived at mamma Jean´s home, as soon as he parked mamma´s car, Johnny got out of it, seeping off into his room without giving his mother a chance to answer. “oh dear“ thought mamma Jean, “what am I to do?“.

Up in his room, Johnny was a mess: tears rolling dow his eyes, a storm of feelings raging on inside his souls; confused, he sought the only comfort he had in that desolate state he found himself in: the medicine; that strange, intoxicating medicine that no longer smelled only of sex, but of mamma Jean. as he smelled the sweet liquid, his thoughts began to pace ever more rapidly inside his head: he could feel the feel of her soul, her tender love, her eyes, her hair, her lips her hips her waist herbodyhersmell; and, as he drank what was left in the bottle, Johnny understood that he loved mamma Jean like no other could love -or so he thought-, for he loved her as a son, and he loved her as a man, she was his life, he, her unspoken lover. Nobody would understand he knew, -not that he even cared-, not even her, fornow that he knew SHE didn´t love him anymore, Johnny knew there was only one thing left to do: he would make her see, he would MAKE her love him;

Mamma Jean had gone to her room, she was trying to figure out what to do with Johnny when she heard a knock on the door, “Oh mamma!“ came Johnny´s voice from across the door “guess who brought you dinner!“, as he came trough the door, mamma Jean thought she saw something strange in Johnny´s eyes, some kind of spark she had seen somewhere before... she was brought back from her thoughts by her son “eat up before it gets cold mamma“, as she took the first bite off the delicious looking lasagna she had before her, he asked “how is it mamma? does it taste good?, I made it special tonight, with lots and lots of love“, “honey, are you feeling alright? you look a little bit unrestful, is everytihng okay?“ asked mamma Jean, as she continued eating, “don´t worry mamma, everything is gonna be alright soon“ as he said this, Johnny started getting closer to mamma Jean, taking off his shirt in the meanwhile. Mamma Jean, who had finished eating by now, was feeling quite distressed by now “honey?“ she asked in what she tried to pass off as her normal tone “what´s going on?“ Johnny didn´t answer, he was now one step away from the bed, and, -mamma Jean saw in the uttermost shock- taking of all of his clothes: first his shoes, followed by his socks and then his jeans; he stayed in his underwear, and started climbing up the bed. As mamma Jean saw this, she tried to move, to stop whatever madness was going on within his son, only to find that she couldn´t move. “Johnny! what did you do! answer me!, Johnny did you drug me?!, Jo-“ she was interrupted both by the drugs effect and Johnny´s finger placed between his lips, “ Shh“ was all that Johnny said, his face now a few inches away from mamma Jean´s, his hand reaching out into her skirt “I love you too mamma“.

Far away, in another town, a doctor´s voice was heard through the stillness of the night: “Just a spoonful, mind you, for there´s nothing as terrible as love given without restraint“;

love sick (I)

“Is he going to be alright doctor?“ asked mamma Jean once the doctor finished the check up on the young man who laid in bed, eyes glazed and body sweating. “Do tell me doctor, please! the gods know I couldn´t live without my poor Johnny! Is it serious?“, mamma Jean said with tears welling up in her eyes,as she tried -in vain- to read the doctor´s expression, trying to make something out of that cold, hard stare one gets after watching as much pain and suffering as doctors do. Fortunately, this was not a case that would harden even more said gaze,and so, the doctor calmly replied “not to worry ma´am, the boy´s only got a fever,just give a spoonful of this to him every night, let him rest, and within a week, two tops, he´ll be up and up again,“. As he said this, the doctor handed mamma Jean a dark green bottle, filled with what seemed a purple -mamma Jean´s favourite color- liquid which, she thought, smelled like freshly made pinapple jam. Curious, she wanted to ask what was that bottle, and turned to face the doctor to do so, only to find out he had already left the room, and, had not mamma Jean practically chased him through the house, she might have not been able to send him off properly (more importantly, she wouldn´t have had a last time to talk to him, but mamma Jean was far too well-educated to admit that). As she was opening the door for him, she asked “excuse me doctor, but what is that bottle you gave me for?“ As the doctor replied, a faint, unusual spark burst in his eyes, as if what he said was all that mattered in that moment “Why, my dear Jean, it´s medicine for the boy, just what he needs: a pure dose of heavy, raw love; a spoonful a day, not a drop more mind you, ´cause theres nothing so terrible -and overwhelming- as love given without restraint“. Mamma Jean, at hearing this, didn´t know what to make of it, and, before she had the chance to ask the doctor another question, he was already halfway down the street. All she managed to do was shout to him a heartful thankyou. “he must be joking“ she thought, looking down to the bottle she still held in her hand, “after all, It might just be a treat he gave me to comfort my poor Johnny“. And so, with this thought in mind, she went to the kitchen, ready to give her Johnny a spoonful of love.

Johnny had never been much of a ´loving´person -he´d never even liked hugs-, a response, perhaps, to his overly protective mother´s attidue. It wasn´t that mamma Jean did what she did on purpose, thought Johnny, it was just that at twenty a mother shouldn´t still be still asking her son to call her whenever he went out, or insisting on him to be safe when a girl ´asked him to do things´, after all, he´d gone away over two years now and the world still spun. She´d been the last one he called whe he got sick -mamma Jean would never know, of course- but nevertheless, she ended up being the only one available to nurse him. “Just my luck“ thought Johnny, “I started the week asking a girl out on a date, and ended up saturday at my mother´s house“. Just then, there was a knock on Johnny´s door, and mamma Jean came in. “here´s dinner honey, doctor said you needed rest so I brought it up to your room, oh and I almost forgot, he also said you had to take this“ as she said that, mamma Jean handed the bottle and a spoon to her son, who took it and put it in the table besides his bed. His eyes, still glazy from the fever, showed either gratitude or contempt. Without saying a word, mamma Jean left the room, leaving Johnny alone again. As soon as she´d left, he gulfed down the food, and then, reluctantly turned towards the medicine bottle -he wasn´t much of a medicine person either- which to him seemed red coloured. The first thing he noticed when he opened the bottle was the smell: to mamma Jean it had smelled like lillies, to Johnny, it smelled like sex; encouraged by this, Johnny poured himself a spoonful, and tasted it, “holy gods!“ thought Johnny “this tastes like clove cigarrettes!“, greedily, Johnny swallowed the whole spoonful, and then another, and another, and another, until he was satisfied, already feeling better, he went to sleep, hoping the next the he could return to his own place, far away from what used to be his home

The next morning, mamma Jean woke up to a rather happy surprise: breakfast in bed; it seemed to her that Johnny had gotten better sooner than the doctor had predicted, and had developed quite a good humor in the process. “oh honey, you shouldn´t have!“ she told him, looking at the menu her son had made her “oh it´s nothing ma´, I woke up feeling so good after taking that medicine that I felt like doing something to thank you“, and thank her he did: after breakfast, he cleaned up for her, went to the supermarket and, good muses! -mamma Jean almost fainted from excitement when she heard him- he even took her shopping.
It wasn´t until they came back from all this that mamma Jean noticed that Johnny´s glazed eyes were coming back, and so, upong arriving home she sent him to his room, where se brought dinner, just as the night before, this time though, she served him the medicine herself, a quarter of a glass -about five or six spoons- “just to be sure“ she thought. She gave it to her son, who gulped it down like a man who´d been in the desert for too long. After that, he feel asleep.



ahhh la crisis de bloqueo del escritor D= meh lo termino luego u_u

Año nuevo

Año nuevo, nuevas resoluciones, metas y propósitos, intentaré revivir esto y hacerlo un poco mas no se, personal? en fin, solo quería empezar bien escribiendo desde el primer día del año.

see you, space cowboys...