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I had gone to the SRI on Monday to start elbow therapy (I’ll tell you about this elsewhere), they put me in the fucking heat lamp —thermo dick what’s it called— and the woman in charge of that pod left me for a long time And that shit burned my skin. I even got some bladders.
The next day I went to tell him that this week I was not going to continue with the therapy because of the burn I had and I showed him my arm. He was red, swollen and with the fucking bladders. In order not to go smooth, I gave him a little mother’s mint.
Therapy already suspended, until next week, I came home. The day was foggy, with the air that a can of water was going to fall. And so it was, in the afternoon a bucket of water fell, I took advantage of bathing in the rain because all water is welcome and more so in this cock that the water never arrives.
Already bathed and dried, I looked at the ceiling, because the trauma of the leak didn’t take it away from me, not even Freud with those guevonades of the libido and the rooster’s head complex. And damn and the mother I saw two leaks. I looked for the ladder and climbed up to see them up close. Two fucking leaks back in the garage.
I had screwed it up in October of last year and had fixed the problem. But due to lack of money, which is the misfortune of the poor, I couldn’t and can’t buy a mantle for waterproofing. That’s what that cock lacks for the job to be pepito. From October to here, some good sticks of water had fallen and nothing had happened. But now those two leaks appeared.
I told myself:
—Tomorrow I’m going to the hardware store to get liquid asphalt. I hope they still have.
The next day I went to the hardware store, but whatever. They had an asphalt with primer for 21 dollars, the motherfucker that gave birth to them.
When I was walking past Beto I took a look inside and saw that they had IPA liquid asphalt for 16 dollars.
Nogoda, that in an oil country a gallon of liquid asphalt costs that much dick is a son of a bitch. A dick that people in the oil fields got horny because if they didn’t look closely they would put their foot in a puddle of asphalt and screw up their shoes. The shoes were no longer fit for a cunt, because there was no way to remove the asphalt. Come now that pod to cost that price. And it’s cheap. Because in other places the sons of bitches have it more expensive.
In any case, I bought it, because they left it for 14 dollars, no rim. And I need it. Since it occurred to me to make tar, I went and bought a liter of kerosene. But it’s how they put it in you, even if it’s folded. A liter of kerosene 4 dollars. It seems to these pussies and mother that one is buying the entire refinery. They didn’t give away kerosene for free. Kerosene was cheap. There was even a joke that said: «I was buying kerosene.»
And that’s where my pension went, on those two cocks.
20 dollars a gallon of liquid asphalt and a liter of kerosene. Let them suck a shorty each.
In the morning, before leaving for the hardware store, he had seen that Eugenia had removed the hose from the bottle of water, because she was throwing herself away. She had picked up the hose and dried the floor. I saw that when I left.
When I came back, after buying kerosene and liquid asphalt, I already felt like a sheikh from Saudi Arabia or Dubai doing international oil transactions at those prices. In that I see that there is water on the floor where Eugenia had dried. And I said to myself:
—This cock is not the hose. Something happens here, let me see well.
I look for a stool, I sit down to look at and touch the bottle well, because it is a glass bottle. When I put my hand under it, I feel that it has a crack, but a crack that covers half the diameter of the bottle and that is where the water came out.
—Damn and the mother. You have to buy a bottle of these. And the vergajos are expensive.
I waited for the afternoon, because the infamous discovery was just before noon.
I go to one of those pods where they recharge the water bottles, and I ask:
—How much is that bottle?
—Eight dollars.
The fucking mother who gave birth to you.
The dollar is like 6.50. They are like 52 bolivars. Nogoda, or that they gave him full of liquor.
I left horny.
—Tomorrow I’m going to look for that shit somewhere else, I said to myself.
The next day I got up and went to get the bottle. The first place I asked, they told me:
—11 dollars.
If you suck me on the cross, I thought.
Over there at 7 dollars; elsewhere at 46 or 48 bolivars. Not even in New York do you hear so many prices in dollars.
Over there I approached a commercial where they sell several pods and asked, about to mention the mother too:
—How much is the bottle?
—At 40 bolivars.
—This is. Give me one.
I paid and I came.
Who knows what other cock comes out this week.
Nogoda. The message to pay for elevator maintenance has already arrived. I’m sure all these motherfuckers are ecologists and believe in sustainable pods, but they’re not walking up the stairs.