THE SENIOR MOMENT!

- Anyway, the guy said, this clarifies everything. I've said it a thousand times. They would not listen to me: "Death is a great fiction!
-Hmmm, I'm guessing you're going out with an esoteric cobblers! Of these wizards, sorcerers, prophets, priests, alchemists, diviners, necromancers, astrologers, priests or sorcerers. Commissioned by the divinities angelic guide and ease the man's pilgrimage through this vale of tears ... And protect you from disease and misfortune. Of course, that includes death and predecirles the future.
Do not fuck with these issues in times of misery and slavery, dammit! You look at these Brazilian church pastors who spend half saying stupid television She said the wife, very angry.

They had finished dinner, as did every night, in that humble home. The, was engaged to teach philosophy at an elementary school, and her critical writing about celebrities, in a lampoon of a mall and thought about the lives of artists, from anywhere in the world. He got up from the table and went to the kitchen to prepare some coffee to her genius husband ... He returned to the room with the cup humeanate, he had gone to sit in your favorite chair. The chair was one of those wide and high back seat almost round. Furniture was the highlight of their humble home. Perhaps the most expensive. He had been placed just in front of the window overlooking a small park. We can say that the mentioned chair, turned his back to everything and everyone. He was placed in that position by the husband, the wife to escape, that every day, the ravages of menopause and infirmities, which made it more unbearable. The philosopher, put it that way, back contemptuously, kept seeing the face of his "beloved" wife and was resting well, their bíscos eyes, staring at the tops of the trees, the flowers when no one had cut to give to a naive girlfriend, and when the sky was clear and blue, they almost always had much smog, in that small town, and that the most abundant were the countless factories manufacturing and export products and therefore the Chinataun called when his real name was Fortin of flowers ...
The husband sitting in his spacious, comfortable and curious armchair, in the way he did, on his back, also it was very easy to avoid conversations with his wife, but they were monologues, annoying, tiresome and annoying, plus endless ...

-Here's your cup of coffee, my life, 'she said with all the tenderness that you can go to a menopausal woman and fifties, depositing as nightly cup on a table that was placed next to the couch, I warn you, that both speak of death, with coffee, yes you will not be able to sleep and maybe that's why the reaper say no ... This coffee night, though you sostengas otherwise, will keep with the naked eye. All people who drink coffee at night are revealed and can not rest, stirred, and you, dear, you will not be the exception ...
The lady took a deep breath, which he always did before saying something very nasty and added:
-No you will happen to be of sexually restless at night, because then we as men of your age - 60 years and can not and with all your soul and exceptional you do with your gut skinny medium stop is salpicarme buttocks with your stinking urine ... Do you think that your doc told you you appear younger than you have, you're going to look like a tiger? ...
No answer.
- Are you listening? You're so stubborn and obstinate than ever you ignore what I say. You are not going to happen today estarme jeringando because I warn you, I wear tights, these are ajustaditas me, so you can not wash your gut untarme and piss me like you do every night you listening, idiot? ...
The question came from looking at the back of the big chair that you could not see at all, the small and chubby husband.
'Yes,' he replied in a bored voice.
The woman, criticism of shows, was quite simply an old. Already charmless. You could not even call old lady. It was an old, period. When talking about buttocks orinadas, who knows whom he meant. Those references were referring to people with vitality and muscle mass. But she could only be defined as a woman whose body smooth and designate by the term coarse gritty and old, bound for the elderly. The truth is that menopause, had done much havoc in it and maybe, the bad vibes of those artists who criticized mercilessly every day.
He grimaced strange, the kind that make the old, with his wrinkled face, and looking round contemptuously, Philippicus continued his monologue:
You will agree to that as you say "we are immortal", in this dump can not live forever, right?
New monosyllabic response from the chair:
-Yes.
-In spring and summer, you sweat and you upset everything everywhere, no ventilation ... And in winter, until the urine leaves you cold, we only need to piss ice cubes and cohabit with polar bears and Eskimos. But of course: When one is allowed to go through the palaver of a philosopher, and worst, marries him, and knows a future that awaits. Because, if I remember, as you and your bloody and misguided prophecies, we would live in a house in the country, even mentioned something like a medieval castle, a mansion you called beautiful. I remember you mentioned your father's inheritance. Silly me I'll believe it. And then I found out you were no father and mother. Too late I realized your lies. You were as poor as a rat campo.Tu fantastic castle was of cards came crashing down in one blow. We had to install in this hovel, from the beginning ... and the fresh air of the countryside, as you were going to breathe every day, we turn to these stinking fumes we swallow every day. Yes as well as my mother told me: "Be careful with that stupid idiot who feels genius, daughter!" ... Silly me, I believed everything. I do not know if mourn, because I have done for a long time, or die of laughter, of this madness that I have stuck to the current date.
There was a brief but strong cough and dry.
- What? - Asked the woman hurried.
-Nothing. I espantaste with everything you say, 'said the husband, half asleep.
- Are you looking at, bitch?: The smoke of the factories you are running, in this atmosphere both consumptive finish. And worse, we can never get out of this hell. I know you always say that hell does not exist. Because you only can you think of such nonsense, and what about this hell you made me live in the best years of my life. Do not have anything to say, believing matusalénico of immortality?
'No,' was the answer that came out the other side of the chair.
- Sure! What could answer, dear, but you know I attend quite right and not necessarily all of this has something to do with the "Critique of Kant Reason", eh? I have more reason St. Theresa of Jesus! If not for the little money that I won it by making healthy criticism about the world of entertainment, who knows where we would be, surely living in the depths of the sewers of this filthy, hellish town.

The wife, as he spoke, and had collected all enceres dinner, the tablecloth had kept in a drawer of the cabinet and then grabbed a basket in which he had his son, sat in her rocking chair, behind the great seat of husband , and began to patch a pair of socks, without stopping to talk.
- We need a miracle, sir - looking spitefully towards the chair. Have you heard?
Silence, no response from the chair.
- Are you annoyed with my talk?
-No.
- It would be good to upset you! Just you deign to speak to me. You think you propose with immortality, someday we can get out of the poverty they live?
I do not know.
-Well, I know, 'said the woman bitterly, and I believe with all your ideas and that death is a fiction, full of disgust corpses end up next to each other or as always, to me behind your back, to finish your misfortune ...

Reluctantly gave a stitch the sock and almost pricked his finger and continued, in a tone of nostalgia now:
I remember the guys in my gang, all were rich and very friendly. They were children of wealthy families. They had money to spare: The girls bought us everything we wanted. I danced with them, I wanted more. but, I just wanted to have fun, very little was serious ... And at the end, and once, I fell into your hands. I believed all the nonsense that you know off by heart, especially those of the Prince: "Only with the heart that one can see the essence of life." I fall for a guy with no job or benefit. If you knew how sorry I am! The worst of my suitors, and as I said my grandmother, was a thousand times better than you. To the music of those then, so happy and moved, now seem a funeral hymn, when I hear it in your company. Are you aware of the miserable woman that I've become?
-Yes.
-I can not anymore, do you understand that?
-Yes.
There was a fierce growl in response aged by the wife.
- You're pathetic! Shouted.
- I just do not understand me, woman! And as you talk and talk, just let me me say that death is a great fiction, but I did add that life is too, it is all a fiction and that includes you and all your nonsense I've been uttering all Jajajajjajaa this time ... (laughs a philosopher of primary school).