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Tale of Charon

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His name was Charon. But outside his neighborhood everyone knew him as the filthy rat. Most of his neighbours thought he’d been a great soldier, slightly wacko, if you want, but inasmuch as he had dedicated his entire life to the compulsive thought of owning the land he had stolen (and he was fond of his role), he was known as a hero by his fellows in stealing. Women loved his macho look, and they used to put his photo on the fridge, since they didn’t know where else they could put it.

One day -they say- he retired. And he left for a long trip around the country, with the money he had earned by cutting enemy heads. Well, he was coming back from this trip and a few miles away to home, he suddenly stopped in a restaurant on the route. They say the place had been called “A helluva roast for the beast” since, for a few bucks, it was not only possible to taste the best roast of the country, but portions were known to be so abundant that they could have fed even a bunch of demons.

Our hero didn’t have the slightest idea of what was bound to happen. So, he took a seat, ate his meal, was poured plenty of wine, then he fell asleep. He woke up in the backyard, handcuffed, oiled, filled with tomato and stuff pushed into all his holes. Then, some strange people with horns made into the backyard to make his acquaintance.

Our hero was not so clever and at the sight of the horned people the smartest thing which came to his mind was to ask, “and the vegetables?” The waiters were all around him, they looked at each other, a kind of a smile on their face. One simply said – sorry, hon, you don’t understand, the vegetables were you. Now, it’s over.

Then, lights went definitely out. They say Charon is still there, in the backyard, some say that even the demons refused his bitter flesh. He stares at the wall in front of him, blank eyes, indefinitely. Seasons, and years, and centuries passing by without anybody’s shiver. Now and then, someone remembers to spit at his memory.

(All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental… Sort of.)

Written by pipistro

February 2, 2015 at 5:39 pm

Posted in violence

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Shut the fuck up

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Written by pipistro

January 8, 2015 at 5:22 pm

Posted in violence, War

Tagged with ,

Humbly our voice

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I’ve read, and I know that “the world” has forgotten Syria for two years. That’s correct, but there ain’t anything as “the world”. There’s people, and we can only work on them. On us.
Not taking a position is tantamount to side with the oppressor. We know this very well, inasmuch as we’ve behaved like this (mainly from our safe living rooms) for so long, without a shiver for the slaughters that were happening all over the outside world.
Let’s not lie, today.
We’ve watched entire peoples being torn apart, notwithstanding any evident injustice. Seldom, we’ve taken side for the one or the other just as we would do looking at a soccer match.
But from the safety of our homes, well hardly we have the right to express our thoughts. For sure we are not entitled to yell (from outside, just as somewhat delegates combatants, from a distance, into a foreign war) the rights and the wrongs of one or the other, insofar as we are well away from the blood and neither with brain nor with soul we are able to perceive and evaluate what is happening. And the media just keep on adding new lies to old ones.
Now, are we really able to estimate that a US strike will lead to any better? If we are obviously not willing to support a murderous dictator (for such he is) how can we trust a long since designed US/Israel further invasion of the Middle East towards the next war of aggression on Iran? Are we ready to claim the good faith of one party – considered as a whole – against the bad faith of the other? Are we willing to be fooled, once again, by mandate of the imperial war machine? For the umpteenth time, by the way, in the last 10 years?
I fear we’re not. Nor we are able to assess our good faith, in this case, while we have failed to be honest in tens of other occasions.
There’s so little we can give to the people of Syria, maybe our heart, humbly our voice in the arena among the nations, some concrete humanitarian help, food, welcome and accomodation. Certainly not our powerful weapons, nor our inconsistent advice.

Written by pipistro

September 9, 2013 at 9:05 pm

Posted in Syria, violence, War

Tagged with , , ,

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