sábado, setembro 04, 2004

As seen in a cat's diary:

Day 183 of my captivity:

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal.
The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another house plant. Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded; must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair, must try this on their bed. Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was. Hmmm, not working according to plan. There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary confinement throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the food. More importantly, I overheard that my confinement was due to my power of "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage. I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The bird, on the other hand, has got to be aninformant, he speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the high metal room, his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time ....

Oh si, me gusta!

Tinha acabado de chegar ao Alentejo uma excursão de espanhóis.
Ao verem um alentejano, o guia diz para os passageiros:
- Ahora me voy a pelear con ese portugues...
E vai ter com o alentejano:
- Hola, como te llamas?
- António...
- Yo tambien me llamo Antonio! Qual es tu profession?
- Sou músico...- Yo tambiem soy musico... E que tocas?
- Toco trompete, e tu?
- Yo tambiem toco trompete. Una vez fue a la Festa de Nossa Señora e toqué tan bien, que la senhora desció del andor e empezó a llorar.
Acrescenta o alentejano:
- E eu fui uma vez à Festa do Senhor dos Passos e toquei tão bem que o Senhor largou a cruz e agarrou-se a mim e disse-me: "À gand'António, que ainda tocaste melhor que o c*brã* do espanhol, que fez chorar a minha mãezinha!"