Smoking Dead. S. Bonavida Ponce
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end of our journey. If you are so kind, I will accompany you to the exit, not without first commenting to you, citizen Peter and citizen Corinne, the sale of gift products made in Fort Dufferin at the exit. If you want, you can take with you a lightweight stone book weighing only four hundred twenty-three ounces, or a beautiful necklace pendant made of seven stones, the latest in fashion. Think about it, Peter and Corinne, because with the second purchase we make a significant discount.”
Pepa Frank's diary
“Corinne, everyone thought he was a legend, but Pepa Frank existed.”
Corinne, sitting peacefully on the co-pilot's side, looked at Peter without any trace of effusiveness. The van continued at good speed along the road on its way home.
“It's incredible, we have the only copy of Pepa Frank's diary.”
“How interesting,” said Corinne in her usual tone of boredom. “I can't wait to read it.”
The van was advancing at constant speed along that secondary road in the Left Zone, a very torrid place.
“Let's stop for lunch. I can't wait to read Pepa Frank's diary. I'll read it to you aloud.”
“For my sake, don't bother.”
“This dude is silly. One of the most important journalistic discoveries and look at her. As if we had found a pot of jam in bad shape.”
Peter stopped the van in a service area in that desert area which had not been passed by a single vehicle for a long time.
“It starts like this...” Peter began to read the newspaper aloud, ignoring Corinne's words.
~~~~~~~
Dear Daily,
May 3rd. My family and I have climbed into the attic of the neighbors' house. It's horrible, the bad guys who smoke passed in front of the house the other day... My dad said to be very quiet and quiet. Everything was a game. We had to be quiet and quiet, otherwise the bad guys who smoke would find us and we would lose. Dad thinks he can fool me. Maybe if I get it with my little brother Pepito, but I'm older, I know it's not a game.
May 20th. The neighbors have finally welcomed us in their attic. Mrs. Juarez didn't want to at first, she said 'there are a lot of mouths to feed', but Dad brought all the food from home and gave it to her. The safest place in the world is a good attic. Bad gentlemen who smoke don't like to climb stairs, or do sports because they drown from the effort, or at least that's what Dad says. We'll be safe here.
June 15th. Tonight, is especially bad. Dad made us shut up. Today the game became very dangerous. I looked out the window and saw horrible things. Lots of bad gentlemen who smoke, sad eyes, extinguished by the rain, cigars in wet mouths. And those brown and gray dresses because of the strontium. Strontium was to blame for everything, Dad always repeats. The bad gentlemen who smoke howl like a herd of hungry dogs. I think one has seen me. I hide. I'm very scared. Dad tells me to hide, otherwise the smoker will come and smoke me. Bad gentlemen who smoke are very scary, Dad laughs, says they are some ‘chacuacos comechingones’. I laugh so I don't know how scared I am.
June 28th. The meal is over. Mrs. Juarez is nervous and angry. Andresito, her son, is a very good friend of mine. But there is little food. There are no tortillas left and Mrs. Juarez gets very angry when there is little food.
July 3rd. Dad promised to come back with food. I didn't know that in Mexico there was so much bad guy who smokes. Mrs. Juarez says that God has punished all those drug addicts. But I think that if God is good, he couldn't have punished them. Every night I pray for Dad, so that he will come back. With him here everything will be better. The bad gentlemen who smoke howl at night. It's horrible. Glazed eyes. Grey and brown clothes. That lost look. One night I looked out the window again. I stared at them. I recognized one, he was an old neighbor of my parents. Mr. Velázquez was good when he didn't smoke. Why did good people start smoking and become bad?
July 6. Dad is back. It's an immense joy. He hasn't brought much food, but I don't care about that. Mrs. Juarez has reproached him that there was so little. I kept quiet because we are in her house and Mom taught me to respect our elders and that when we were guests in someone else's house we should keep quiet. But every day I hate Mrs. Juarez more and more. Dad is weird...
August 2nd. Many estimated daily days have passed. I'm still not over Dad. I'm sad. The day after coming back with food, Dad started to get sick. Mr. and Mrs. Juarez examined him. Dad had ingested a lot of smoke, they said. Soon he will become a smoker. One day I woke up and Dad was no longer with us. I couldn't believe it. Dad had always been good, why do good people always leave? First Mom with that bad disease, and now Dad, because of the tobacco smoke. I miss you so much, Dad.
August 13th. Yesterday I saw Cantinflas walking the streets. He smoked a great cigar. At his side Mr. Mariachi played a very sad song while smoking. Cantinflas touched his mustache while he extracted smoke from the great cigar. Dad loved the movies of Cantinflas, but to see him like this now, in the street, surrounded by smoke and ugly smell, surrounded by bad gentlemen who smoke. I became very sad. I couldn't help crying. Mrs. Juarez was very angry when she discovered that she was looking out the window and that she was crying like a spoiled woman. Didn't she know that she was putting them all in danger? I bit my tongue and swallowed saliva. I didn't want to put them all in danger.
August 28th. Food is scarce, we barely have enough to put in our mouths. Luckily, being an attic, the water is not lacking. Mrs. Juarez has a huge jerrycan of water on top of the roof. On the roof. But we can't open the windows, the bad guys who smoke could hear us, and the smoke from the street could get in. It is very hot. Cantinflas and Mr. Mariachi are always around the house. Would you hear me the other day when I cried?
September 3rd. Last night we were very scared. My brother no longer makes jokes. And Mrs. Juarez is no longer angry. Now she always looks raptly at the same point. Cantinflas was on the other side of the door. Sniffing. We knew it was him because Mr. Mariachi accompanied him singing and smoking.
“Oh, oh, oh, brunette. Ay, ay, ay, my love. Ay, ay, ay, tobacco of my heart”.
A dark, melancholic song. We listened to his sad howling. We were all very quiet, very quiet, very frightened. I was so scared that I peed on myself. Mrs. Juarez was looking at her husband, and has been looking at that same spot since last night.
September 9th. Mr. Juarez and I are on the roof. It was horrible. Last night... I was so scared. Just writing I'm not afraid. I don't want any of this to be forgotten. My little brother coughed, couldn't control himself, he had one of his attacks. But Cantinflas was on the other side of the door and heard the cough. Mr. Mariachi began to howl a very sad song. Then they began to scratch the attic door. Soon more bad gentlemen who smoke were on the other side of the door. “Giiiiive meeeee a liiiiight,” we could hear his hoarse lament. They broke the door, Mr. Juarez was shaking his wife hard, but Mrs. Juarez was not immutable. Mr. Mariachi entered first, behind the rest of the smokers, then grabbed Pepito by the hair and smoked my little brother in the face. Mr. Juarez, with tears in his eyes, wanted to save Andresito, but his son was already in the middle of three bad gentlemen who smoke and Cantinflas at his side. Cantinflas told him, with such a sweet voice, a story of good children and bad children who smoked. With his sweet, feigned voice, he attracted him to him. There are no good moustaches. My little brother was succumbed to by the irresistible force of the almost hypnotic voice of the now feared Cantinflas. Mr. Juarez with tears in his eyes walked in my direction, I was almost paralyzed, scared to death with so much bad sir who smokes, Mr. Mariachi, the evil Cantinflas, Mr. Velazquez, smoked and laughed. I don't know how Mr. Juarez and I ended up on the roof, there a huge fence closed the way to the bad guys. I couldn't stop crying. Mr. Juarez closed the iron fence behind us.
September 14. Mr. Juarez and I hadn't eaten in two days. The food stayed down in the attic. Luckily, we had the giant water can. But that wouldn't be enough. At night Mr. Mariachi sang. And Cantinflas spoke to us with that sweet voice of yesteryear. We couldn't go down. The attic was full of bad gentlemen who smoke. Mr. Juarez stroked