The Journal of Freetown - Casanova Cesar Lopez

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The Journal of Freetown - Casanova Cesar Lopez
The Journal of Freetown
César López Casanova
http://kakumei.idoo.com
© 2007 César López Casanova The Diary of Freetown by Cesar Lopez Casanova is lic
ensed under a Creative Commons: Attribution - Non Commercial - Share Alike 2.5 S
pain. Written in September 2007 with OpenOffice.org
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The Journal of Freetown - Casanova Cesar Lopez
The weekly figure
Kaizoku south coast
by Juan Torres
Saturday September 23, 2208
The sky above the port is the color of rusted iron dimly shining in the rays of
a sun cruel. It is a day like any other on the southern coast of Freetown. Makes
a horrible dry heat and my throat irritated by the high concentration of ozone
in the atmosphere. Over all lies a dome free macrociudad greyish-brown gas that
is formed due to the leakage of the factories and the many ships and industrial
sliders visit El Puerto de Santa Maria. And despite that, the afternoon sun with
no problem seems to seep through the air poisonous and sharp falls on the worn
pavement of the port sector. I miss my gas mask, missed this morning in the hote
l room, while my feet dragged for three miles of hot asphalt to the Joint Bridge
. I have to stop often to catch their breath, and take rest on the rail for a lo
ok inside the dark sea, killed by oil and chemical residues. The old joint, a co
rroded steel suspension bridge that connects the city with the harbor district,
was built before the Atlantic would stop entering the place before the disaster
of the tanker Black Waters, fifty years ago. I continue my way and finally the J
oint ends, but the road continues as a long avenue toward a blazing inferno of m
etal. Fortunately, the pub where I meet the character of this week is near a sid
e alley just a few meters from the bridge, and less than four kilometers from re
nting slider that has brought me here. I parked before crossing the joint. The m
anager of the franchise Rent-a-Slider, Joe, I advised that I did so, certainly m
ore concerned about the device than my lungs. "Business is business," he never t
ired of repeating. It seems the area is particularly contentious: "In the port y
ou ventilate the car as it takes to drink a nice and cool Alhambra!". So here I
am, as opposed to dirty, heavy metal doors of the hut in question, drenched in s
weat, breath and ludicrously armed with a greasy piece of steel nails in my left
hip. Joe assured me that I need it, and gave me a good price for this heavy old
thing. Perhaps because he thought that this could successfully defend more junk
flyer, business is business. I just know how this gossip, so I'm not having to
remove it. From outside the den looks really dangerous, so the iron may be usefu
l to me in order to accounts. Of an old trawler owner and bartender has made a c
ozy club for smugglers and pirates. The gray paint is corky by years of heat and
humidity, and falls on the pavement as dry flakes of dead fish. Not appreciated
, however, because the sidewalk is crammed with waste and fast food containers,
arranged in layers of old. A port and rusted bolts with thick hull is attached t
o a blue LED sign, half melted, all flashing at daylight the place name: "Bar of
 the Rat." The main door frame is a crude cut at 3
The Journal of Freetown - Casanova Cesar Lopez
torch which have not even filing burrs. The restaurant shares the same look as t
he other dens of the port, a lot of junk corroded by salt and acid, gray cement,
no frills, no life. It is as if the sea had spat at once all the trash that onc
e we take ourselves, thus giving shape to the port district. A separate small to
wn, separated from downtown by the old suspension bridge. A labyrinth of streets
that wind between the damaged barges and cargo containers that double dented st
ores, hostels, brothels and bars for sailors, criminals, and John Does, deserter
s from a failed business. The doors are heavy and squeak. When entering a wave o
f strikes me snuff, alcohol and sweat vaporized stale. It is still early and dec
ide to wait for the subject of the week sitting at one end of the bar stool on a
plastic deformed uncomfortable and swallowing smoke as never before. I've been
here fifteen minutes and only three beers€so the ugly man behind the counter loo
ks at me with contempt, every time he finishes serving another pint of Alhambra
with its robotic arm. I guess it's contempt I see in your eyes, though his face
is so wrinkled smile even scare any little boy or grown. Alhambra is the local b
rand of beer, and apparently the most appreciated. It's what I ordered since I j
oined, but that helped me to pass unnoticed. Each time the tipple and drink the
dark liquid in my mug, I feel the prying eyes of the customers. Giants muscled,
tattooed, barely covered by tattered clothes and rubber plasticuero, slump whore
s working overtime, little men with haggard eyes of mouse nervous playing cards,
the odd woman with arms as wide as my own thighs, smoking fat cigars , playing
pool and laughing out loud and thunderous voice hoarse ... I keep waiting a litt
le longer. It appears that the Bar of the Rat is not only a playground. At first
glance there are a few small transactions, commerce, negotiation and payment of
debts, all very discreet. A two stools away I notice something striking and lar
ger, to which however no one besides me seems to pay attention. A big guy, dark
and with a ponytail, has just received the visit of a salaryman, slim, small and
pale as a corpse. I could not say what the skeleton corresponds kaisha uniform,
but there is no doubt that it belongs to one of the upper castes within your co
mpany. I would never have imagined I could see a corporate suit in this type of
establishment. Your visit is extremely brief, however. As a lightning attack, en
ters the room pushing the creaking gates effort goes gray and then to the giant
ponytail. Without hesitation, eyes straight ahead, their tiny eyes hidden by dar
k lenses suspicious function. When it comes to the bar, adjacent to the queue, h
it a slap on his shoulder and the crusty veneer desk download the goods, a narro
w aluminum case. And again, without saying a word with the pirate, the salaryman
left the place, no one dressed droid distinguish a remotely piloted. See now th
e dealer, seem to be available to check the contents of the shipment, but ... Sh
it! At that moment, just up from the bag and passes it on to me. Her eyes stabbe
d during an interminable second. An intricate Maori tattoo covering his face lik
e a gorilla, which scares me even more. Gets rid of that dirty look turning the
jar over my mouth. Swallows a pint of beer at one go, making a vain effort to es
cape from the plight in which I cast. During the tense two minutes of my eyes wa
nder over the walls of the bar, away from the strong man of Grenada. A rusty spe
ar there, fight gloves worn end there, four
The Journal of Freetown - Casanova Cesar Lopez
a couple of sticks Eskrima ... Do not take it anymore, I'm sick and need to urin
ate. You have to throw value. Good readers will recall seemingly more serious si
tuations that I have been involved. I decide to get up and walk casually into th
e bathroom, just at the other end of the counter. There seems to be luck, the gu
y is lying on the bar, the prominent chin almost resting on the aluminum briefca
se, left fist held high as his eyes scan quietly bubbling substance inside of th
e jar polished by wear. The other hand, however, still clinging tightly to the h
appy case. "Shit, I mean that neither my business nor do I care the least your b
usiness, pal!" I approach with caution. A few steps away and smell the essence o
f aggressive animal. I'm up and moving. With the corner of my eye I watch his br
oad shoulders covered with a vest full of patches plasticuero and holograms. Loo
ks like I'm out of danger ... - Who the hell are you, bastard, bastard?! I can h
ardly process the words, painfully pronounced with a strong southern accent, bef
ore the coup. From the bench, the type turns as it rises like a spring and plans
to the weight of his giant's body on the case, that after one hundred eighty de
gree arc poke my chin with tremendous energy. After a short flight through the a
ir polluted slum landed on a metal table that is coming down, and to top it off
my head bounces off a couple of times against the concrete floor. But by then I'
m unconscious. The headache is attached to the scent of a pool of stale beer bat
tered near my skull, and I start to rave: Am I the cork from an old bottle of Ri
oja? My conscience is going to walk for at least ten minutes.€And when he finall
y returns, I find with apprehension in front of me there is a face even more ape
like than the type of queue. Hundreds of tiny, pale scars run along the sunburne
d face, and suggests a sinister smile and broken teeth implanted pieces of gold.
Her eyes fixed, but carelessly observed, as an entomologist before dissecting a
common nematode. - Quiet, man! It was not so bad, ha, ha! "Roared the giant lau
ghing. His breath is as strong as that of a wild beast. With those sharp teeth c
ould rip my nose at any time. For a moment I think I'll do it in the pants. But
the uncomfortable feel moisture between my legs indicates that a while ago that
I did. Damn! I thought that would never happen to me. - Ah! Do not worry about t
hat, "the guy says, reading my mind. Measte you when you were probably KO. It's
normal, man. Do not beat yourself up for that, heh, heh. "Out now a little bit m
ore terrifying jaws of my face, and only then did I find myself unable to look a
way from his gold teeth. His eyes are brown and soft ... And for some strange re
ason I start to trust a little more in this fun murderer. - Excuse me, but ... W
ho are you? "Achievement pronounce between sips of blood and small pieces of ivo
ry. I try to get up, but I hurt my ribs. - I am John, the Scorpion. And you are
Torres, journalist, right? "I released her giant hand and strong as concrete, pr
essing mine, surprisingly, no 5
The Journal of Freetown - Casanova Cesar Lopez
crush. His calm eyes speak of peace, but his face and strong body sinister roar
a roar of war and violence. - Nice, cof, cof! "With your help it join. The ribs
have had clavárseme in the lungs during the fall. My body rests on a thick woode
n cattle, covered in part by a comfortable cushion of fishing nets and floats ru
bber kuralón. We are within close cabin of the ship. Palp with horror and bloody
broken my mouth while I search the room. There are a couple of portholes covere
d in dust by the fall still some rays of the setting sun. For perspective I gues
s I'm in the top level of the Rat Bar, near the deck. - Need something else, Joh
nny? "Scream the ugly bartender at the door. I had not realized was there. With
its efficient mechanical prosthesis circular holding the handle of the gate, pre
venting the steel spring closing. - Sure! Bring a couple of bottles of vodka rat
her chilly, please, "replied the giant scars contact the Rat. The red light of t
he cabin muffled his face in shadow, showing a golden Greek profile. It is a bea
utiful classical sculpture, even with the nose broken by the ravages of life. Po
sa before me a bust of a warrior strong, aggressive and peaceful at the same tim
e. So this is our hero of the week, my friends. John Smith, a Kaizoku, a pirate
employee. Take care to observe the peculiar physical. His bull neck supports a s
quare head is almost bald. Only a low ridge, strong brown and gray hair, decorat
e their brains. The ears are small and shaped like a cauliflower. Nobody bothere
d to heal when he left the nose, which is flattened and slightly deflected. I am
sure that with these muscular and prominent jaws could lift one of the barrels
of beer that the Rat is dispersed throughout the bar. Still to be kneeling at my
height. One of the huge hands resting on his knee. His thick forearms resemble
the claws of a lion, his biceps and triceps mark each of its fibers in the skin
brown, and his broad chest and bulky is about to break the tight black shirt nyl
on. All your muscles are relaxed but seem strained as steel cables. Capto that m
oment in time. The evening light filtering through the small windows, creating s
hadows on her bronze body, drawing his dark silhouette of a gladiator. That is,
in gladiator. Suddenly I am seized by the memory of man, describing that charact
er in Howard Fast's historical novel that moved me so much as a child. And thoug
h John should be somewhat higher than that Spartacus and bulky, even with the si
nister aspect that give the scars on his face, conveys the serenity, that goodne
ss, that inner peace that all slaves were able to see his friend and companion.
.. - Now will go up, "replies the barman in a hoarse voice. Disappears behind th
e door, which hit hardest part, bouncing and being ajar a few inches. The closur
es are rusted and twisted, like the spring of the spring.€A cloud of dust falls
from the sky on steel and thousands of specks of dust flying randomly crossing i
n the path of the photons of gold. The alcohol in my veins, adrenaline burning,
the blow to the head, light golden or inestimable goodness of a second of silenc
e ... I do not know what it is, but I am calm in this small room of metal, while
the last rays of the sun warming my 6
The Journal of Freetown - Casanova Cesar Lopez
spirit, the cold storm annealed aluminum. I do not even really interested in the
whereabouts of the trader that has made me wet pants, anything other than sport
ing gesture break teeth. However, it is logical to ask and even what I should wr
ite my story for the newspaper that feeds me. - What happened after that bastard
dent the case with my pines? I ask, babbling, and then a phlegm spit blood that
prevents me from talking with dignity. - Mmm, nothing interesting. You had the
good fortune that I got at that moment. Fuck that flight, pal! Ja, ja! That type
, the queue is an old acquaintance, a paranoid rude, violent bastard and twenty-
four hours a day. Thanks for giving me the perfect excuse, as he wanted. - What
happened? I ask with sadistic satisfaction. - Ah, I had to break the teeth, arms
, legs and some ribs. But not only for you, annoy a guest of mine, who is alread
y severe. This case should not go into here. In the Bar of the Rat are some rule
s to be observed, can not bring problems without problems. In this sacred hole t
ies are not welcome, bring problems, and that bastard had to queue to imagine wh
at would happen. But it is strong and will recover, there is no reason to cry ye
t ... - Thank you, John. Pity have missed. "It seems that the bleeding has stopp
ed, and touched with the tip of the tongue that appear to some points in my gums
. Perhaps the old Rat cured me when I was still unconscious and while Johnny rid
rid of the bulky body type pigtail. - You're welcome. Next time think about it
out without wearing the bulge under his shirt, ha, ha! One must defend, always.
It is the law of the port. - I will, "I say, recalling the bloody iron. The sack
and throw a lot of crude oil-stained networks waiting to rot in a corner of the
narrow cabin .- Do you want to start the interview, Johnny? Her gentle eyes tel
ls me that I can use the diminutive. "I told you, for no apparent reason, I star
t to fall fairly well this giant? - Sure! Says happy, clutching a heavy fuel dru
m with one of her paws and drags him to put it in front of my wooden spool, wher
e I have settled like my own throne. He sits on the barrel after its enormous we
ight rusty squeaks material .- Shoot! *
J. Torres:
What can you tell me about the kaisha?
Scorpio:
Well to start I will say that I was not born here, in neighborhoods free. My par
ents were blue collar workers of category B in a franchise service kaisha Henson
. He was 7
The Journal of Freetown - Casanova Cesar Lopez
specialized in injection mold titanium. Nozzles manufactured the engines of the
brand for low-end hovercraft. But after a dispute with the foreman, my parents w
ere demoted and then transferred to another franchise. His new task, and therefo
re also mine, was to clean waste from the assembly lines, a category F. That was
when my parents began to rot. I escaped before the titanium slag bury my spirit
. A bad day like any other I decided to remove my tracking biochip implanted us
under the skin of the forearm. Besides, nobody cares about the little bastard of
a caste F, so after jumping some barbed wire I won the freedom ... and some sca
rs. I'm sure nobody noticed. Even my own parents, who behaved like a fucking zom
bie. Maybe a couple of cameras they did, but my miserable life was not worth the
trouble to find me. I spent some time eating and traveling as a stowaway waste,
bouncing back and forth between the slums of other kaisha. And finally I came t
o Freetown, the free city closest I found. And here I lived happily ever after.
J. Torres:
How was life in the franchise?
Scorpio:
A real shit. Hell. I do not understand why they are there. The people of the kai
sha was classified into sixteen castes, 0 to F, being 0 the upper caste. I never
saw anybody more than a 7. And if you belong to an A is almost impossible to re
ach a 7 or your children or your grandchildren will, however brilliant and hardw
orking you are. The system is designed as a pyramid€hard worker and will always
be at the base. When my family belonged to the A, I worked from age six, but his
school, some free time and social services. The biochip of my arm stored my sav
ings, which could easily spend the game in the galleries, bars ... All from A we
re satisfied with what we had, with having more than the B, but is insufficient.
When we entered the level F. .. were slaves. I was not allowed to go to school,
I had hours of rest to think, we could only eat and sleep poorly ... We were an
imals, or so claimed. A production robots are paying more attention. We lived in
a ghetto dirty and gray, without neighborhoods, without community, because ther
e was no energy to be kind to others and spend a little effort to improve the ne
ighborhood. When people get the discount at that level, fighting each other for
a crust of bread and no one gives anything for free. The important and the only
thing you have is life, and defends the unseemly but practical way, most of the
time. I hated that shit. A home from work, when you came out of the smelly tube
carriages, so tired it was hard to keep open the eyelids, were looking after the
gates at level 8 kids playing tennis, his clothes worn but clean and brightly c
olored shoe . And did you know that you could never ColArte at the track, and yo
u could never buy a team like that ... shoe whores ... because your biochip does
not store or even a job contract. You are a slave.
J. Torres:
What experiences did after leaving the Kaisha?
Scorpio:
Henson was and probably remains one of the companies and stricter enforcement. D
ragging it across the border for more than ten kilometers of dead land, smeared
with mud and industrial oil for the auto-machine guns do not bore me ass. The ne
ighbor had more freedom kaisha. The ghettos were 8
The Journal of Freetown - Casanova Cesar Lopez
more discreetly separate and you could jump from one to another without problem.
I ate with them rats or as abundant or not remains of the factory canteen. But
after I learned of the existence of gangs. I managed to get into one and things
changed.
J. Torres:
How old were you then?
Scorpio:
Some ... sixteen. The gang left the shit hole where I was. When you flee, you hi
de and eat waste ... You start thinking you're a rat again, or worse, because yo
u have no peers. But the boys of 28 830 camera gave me what I needed, a human id
entity and an outlet for my anger. They welcomed me like one. In these low-ranki
ng gang leaders is only temporary, who earn the prestige fighting with everyone
else. It's the most fair. I became their leader a season. We stole, asaltábamos,
beatings we gave saboteábamos and custom ... In these kaisha the Act only prote
cts the property of the upper castes, leaving leeway for the rest. So we were a
part of the law of the underworld. At first it was fun. That a foreman had fondl
ed a girl of lower level, since his father brought us food or money or material,
and in return we triturábamos the bones of the fucking bully. Soon our mara won
influence. Then they began to get orders from above. In all cases it was intimi
dating or screw the bottom. The boys had no problem in carrying out the mandated
, and also were much higher payments. For them what mattered was the pasta. They
thought that one day could escalate levels in the system to reach a more comfor
table position. Surely many did it and now they are supervisors or heads of secu
rity of the kaisha. But those orders were an insult to me. The injustice he had
suffered in my years of slavery could not tolerate for any other. Not for all th
e chips in the world. It was strange because I did not expect that reaction myse
lf. A few months before, when I lived in the street, my mind was intended solely
to obtain food, and would kill anyone for it. But now was different. It was bui
ld, and doing so on the basis of torture and pressure of our own kind ... I had
to leave the kaisha, but not before the ringleader split his skull in office to
to let me go.
J. Torres:
When did you decide to migrate to an open area outside the control of the kaisha
?
Scorpio:
Well, after that I traveled from kaisha in kaisha, learning tricks and ways to g
o unnoticed without security systems for corporations jodiesen me. And in one of
the gang of which I was a member I met a very curious that I became good friend
s. Sony had been a member of a higher caste. It was sysadmin,€developer or enrol
l, or some such shit. He was an expert in systems and data networks. His story w
as dark, but I respected his privacy. The fact is that taught me everything my d
ry brain might learn about iiNet. We get several consoles, and Sony managed to b
ypass an anonymous link to the network. We sailed for months, twelve and fourtee
n hours a day, pirating and plundering funds, manipulating our interest in certa
in transactions decimal millions. Apart from business, got a lot of information
about the real world, which I could never access. I began to understand the syst
em, and also discovered that there were outside their control. Free neighborhood
s, where a weakened central government attempts to provide basic needs to all 9
The Journal of Freetown - Casanova Cesar Lopez
users requiring them just enough where companies are cooperatives, where nobody
has the right to break into your life and treat you like a slave ... Well, I ima
gined it as a paradise. He also wanted to see the sea. I saw photos, videos, sur
fed the marine simulators ... but it was so rare that really wanted him. So much
water, no buildings, no factories, only water ... The reality exceeded the RV a
s always, the smell, the warm afternoon sun on the sparkling waters, the breeze
...
J. Torres:
But already enjoyed some freedom there in the kaisha, is not it?
Scorpio:
Sure. Our camera had paid bribes and dirty business for several franchises in th
e kaisha. And if you stayed out of certain things and you were careful you could
be transparent. But I felt secure, tied ... an error and could again become a s
lave, cleaning ash in a foundry ...
J. Torres:
So I crossed the border more ... And you came to Freetown.
Scorpio:
Sony had an accident with an ice while trying to plunder some accounts ... The i
ces are dangerous security systems, some are able to fuck the mind, create neura
l connections in your brain parasite ... infinite loops that keep you busy witho
ut responding to any stimulus ... leave you hanging. I could not do anything for
him. It was a drooling vegetable. I took someone to keep care. We had a lot of
money into fictitious accounts. Perhaps I should end his life ... But I had no v
alue. I felt an urgent need to flee from there, and nobody could stop me. It cos
t me money and effort, but finally got it. And the days where the last dirty and
smelly aerobus of my trip down on a skyscraper in Gibraltar, went downstairs, I
approached the railing and saw the sea ... fuck, was the best of my life.
J. Torres:
And you became a star in final fight ...
Scorpio:
Ha ha. Not so much ... I was lucky to know a great teacher who let me train in h
is gym. There I made good friends and kept fighting and learning, until I decide
d to fight professionally. I went right. It was my golden age, ha, ha. Many girl
s, many fans, chips more than enough to spend my few vices ...
J. Torres:
But you left to work as a pirate employee ...
Scorpio:
Well, everything has an expiration date ... My body was a bit worn and my spirit
needed adventure. The money was also important. I like to take some extended va
cation from time to time ... Some ex-fighters put me on the subject. I was learn
ing.
J. Torres:
What exactly is dedicated Kaizoku like you?
10
The Journal of Freetown - Casanova Cesar Lopez Scorpion:
We stole, killed, kidnapped, usurp, sabotage, destroy ... I guess my work is to
carry out any tasks that can not run corporations openly kaisha system. Unpleasa
nt tasks and outlawed by the Treaty of Trade Protection 2119, but the institutio
ns themselves need to reach a higher level within the system. It is assumed that
the market rises kaisha the best, there is competition between franchises, tran
sparency in the negotiations, and total flexibility for business. But in practic
e these rules are not followed, and the biggest beneficiaries of that happening
are, in theory, oversee its enforcement. The kaisha highest level within the 211
9 Committee have got there by conspiracies, espionage, covert wars ... Much of t
his effort has been made by groups Kaizoku. When I think of all that shit ... is
probably that I'm too rough ... ignorant ... but most of the complicated rules
and systems convoluted, I'm sure they've always been a trap for honest people. A
trap to rob the plain man the fruits of their labors and thus feed the knave in
office. One way or another my work shows that the system is a big lie kaisha.€T
here are people working to exhaustion, without time to think and understand that
they are slaves ... while a few enjoy a surplus of goods, and its abundance of
leisure rather not think about, of course, on the plight of their fellow human b
eings ...
J. Torres:
Well, I consider myself a relatively worship and share with you the idea that th
ings done for the good are simple to understand. When something that could easil
y be exposed convoluted way is because there is an intention to divert the right
channel as appropriate in each situation. But get to the next question. What co
uld highlight differences between the system and neighborhoods kaisha free and F
reetown?
Scorpio:
It was a big change. When I got out of there I left behind me a great weight. It
is the control ... I left the control. Here nobody watches, nobody tends a thin
spider's web to wait until fall. A system of central government, it is true ...
But do not meddle in my private life. I do not steal ... Instead, get financing
and cooperative enterprises and wholly invested in the infrastructure of the ne
ighborhood. I think if you ask they give you care! Well, at least for those who
can not afford otherwise. Of course this is not a paradise. I know, I understand
. I have read some articles on economics yours criticism. Ja, ja, I came prepare
d. But for me it's more than enough, pal. At least in comparison this is paradis
e. Here no one gives me orders if I do not accept, I can defend no one steals my
freedom, and if one day I decide to stay watching the waves, lying on the beach
watching the seagulls peck algae oil filled until I cover my chips, I can do wi
thout anyone criticized me ... People here help each other, because they have no
t been brainwashed with that mentality of worker ant. Each one is a more and as
valuable as any other.
J. Torres:
How do you think could improve the system of free neighborhoods?
Scorpio:
I do not know friend, ha ha. I told you not see it so bad. Perhaps teaching ever
yone, the kids that are connected to iiNet the day, the real dangers of empire 1
1
The Journal of Freetown - Casanova Cesar Lopez
of kaisha. Teach them how good it is the freedom to choose what they do with the
ir lives ... Teach them the good vibes ... Well, that's your job, pal.
J. Torres:
I do what I can, Scorpion:). Finally: Do you think it is appropriate to the cons
piracy to kaisha system? That is, what is necessary or even beneficial to negoti
ate with the corporations of the Committee?
Scorpio:
Freetown, like many other neighborhoods free, is a big black market for them. Ma
ny franchises lose their business opportunity without the products that we sell.
That gives us credit that we invest mostly in our structure because we import o
nly kaisha system. This in itself is no big deal. I wish we were a thousand ligh
t years from those damn bastards ... But being so close ... if we were to use th
em, probably ... safely have attacked us, would have distributed the materials,
including human and animal and our territory have mounted one of its franchises
damn full of slaves ...
J. Torres:
Sure ... Well that's it, Johnny. Thank you very much for your time.
Scorpio:
You're welcome, buddy. I'm meeting a friend, Muay, in half an hour in the downto
wn for drinks. Tomorrow we kaisha P *********. mission Come with us and we will
remove the bad taste, ha, ha, the broken teeth I mean, ha, ha.
J. Torres:
Ok. I think I need more alcohol in my gums. Go!
By Juan Torres, from Puerto de Santa Maria, for The Journal of Freetown, 09/23/2
208
César López Casanova Madrid, October 30, 2007
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