With a wave of the hand the customer declined the glass of tap water and summoned the sommelier, who read out a long list of bottled waters.
The table tried a few brands not well known in California, at about seven dollars a bottle.
While they ate, they went through several bottles. Amazonia from the Brazilian jungle was very good, and the Spanish water from the Pyrenees was excellent, but best of all was the French brand Eau de Robinet
The robinet is where they all came from: the faucet. The bottles, with labels made up by a friendly printer, had been filled in the kitchen.
The meal was filmed by a hidden camera in a chic Los Angeles restaurant. And Penn and Teller showed it on TV.
Subsoil of the Night.
ReplyDeleteBecause the woman never shut up, because she was always complaining, because there was never a small misunderstanding she didn't turn into a major problem, because he was tired of working like a mule for her and all her relatives, because he had to plead like a beggar in bed, because she had another and she pretended to be a saint, because she was a gnawing ache like nothing else he ever felt, because he could not live without her or with her, he had no choice but to wring her neck like a chicken's.
Because the man never listened, because he never paid attention, because there was no major problem that he didn't treat like a small misunderstanding, because she was tired of working like a mule for him and all his relatives, because she had to obey like a whore in bed, because he had another and told the whole world, because he was a gnawing ache like nothing else she ever felt, because she could not live without him or with him, she had no choice but to push him from the tenth floor like a sack of potatoes.
In the morning, they ate their breakfast. The radio was blaring the news like any other day. Nothing they heard caught their attention. Reporters don't cover dreams.
"Voices of Time; A Life in Stories" by Eduardo Galeano; Metropolitan Books, 2006
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