was not always the case. Or it was only in part. One of the guests, A, had invited me to dinner but, without my realizing it, his dinner had been eaten by another friend's dinner, B, which then had become the host. That's why the days of postguardia are to see bad movies, snoop on the Internet or post a cuartiento, but not for much, much less if it means leaving home. Something that I had recommended C and D. For if there been any other day I would have immediately realized the coup, have invented an excuse, a pretext, and would not have gone out to dinner or anything. Whether I wanted to sleep and the ability to get me something in the mouth was not on my list of priorities. But I went to dinner without realizing that there was no plan but to B. A And what of the postguardia I did not realize the indirect:
(A is a film director. B is a writer of telenovelas. C is television sports commentator. D is a surgeon).
"But, are you coming to dinner? B, I asked insistently.
"Yes," I then, I swear, I meant the dinner A.
"But we've only booked to fifteen and you would be sixteen.
A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K ...
"Yes, yes, insisted no problem, half dozing, understanding nothing, sure that I have included in the book, wondering who would be that rather uncomfortable guest who insisted on not getting into the group: L?
I then went to dinner and I'm not deprived. When they brought the wine, I ordered the most expensive: A usually does not get angry about these issues. Of course, the best, the greatest: A is generous and if you do not accept his generosity is a bit annoying.
(A is an engineer. B owns a network of toy libraries. C is the emergency physician. D is a carpenter).
The other fifteen letters, A included, looked strangely at me and I wanted more and more, thinking that perhaps their eyes were simply an effect of postguardia. And somehow, that they were: they did not understand how I could behave well at a dinner which had not been invited and I was sure I was at dinner A. When
opinion, was not restrained. I talked about everything: men, women, animals, children, governors and taxes. The letters all looked at me as deluded. Maybe I'm talking a lot, I thought before quiet a bit and start chewing. Just still looking: how strange, we may not they have stayed.
With dessert, I could not hold back and accepted the generosity of A.
(A has a greenhouse. B builds roads for the government. C drink German beer. D read sports newspapers)
was in the last act, when to pay, when I saw that A was looking at B, which in turn drew notes slowly, I realized that something strange was happening there and for the first time all night, I started feeling uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what was bothering me.
I left the group and started walking toward the apartment.
When I reached the corner I thought that what had bothered me had to do with politics: D is an anarchist radical (at least presented), but on the stairs dismissed the possibility: I do not care about politics.
(A sells something. B takes you to your house. C does something to eat. D is medical emergency.)
I put the key in the lock and shouted Eureka. Not because the door was opened, but because they were convinced that the discomfort was related to taxes. At four minutes while I brushed my teeth, I aborted the way: tax me I give a damn.
I rested my head on the pillow and thought he had solved everything was the dogs, when they spoke ill of the dogs. So I could sleep, but when I woke up, I knew that was not the right answer: for better or for worse, I have no pets for more than ten years.
(None of the above is the answer.)
So what was it that happened? Why am I still wrong? That was what I was wondering until a few minutes when I realized that if A had not been the host, I had sneaked into the dinner B.
clarified the question, finally started to feel well and, for the day to continue straightening, I said aloud:
-I'll write a cuartiento.
- About what? - I asked the neighbor across the shared wall.
-On the first crap that I can think, "I answered or just dreamed that you responded.
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