Hora es de que lo sepas: ya eres lo bastante mayor.
Los reyes no son los padres. Los padres son los reyes.
Los padres, en realidad, no existen. Los reyes magos y su ejército de clones se pasan el año camuflados como respetables progenitores.
Unas veces es el clon de Gaspar quien tiene que hacer de madre, otras el de Melchor o el de Baltasar. Varía en cada caso. Se afeitan y depilan, se ponen relleno y se operan la entrepierna, se dejan calva o nariz aguileña según convenga.
No te concibieron practicando el coito ni guarradas por el estilo: cogieron una semillita que trajo una abeja, la enviaron a germinar a sus laboratorios de París y luego una cigüeña trajo el producto acabado.
Tú.
Esta noche, sólo esta noche, se zafarán de su disfraz y se echarán a la calle aullando como salvajes, enloquecidos por el resentimiento. Es su única oportunidad después de trescientos cincuenta y cuatro días de cautiverio.
Se armarán de toneladas de caramelos, montarán en sus carrozas del delirio e intentarán descalabrar a tantos niños como puedan con sus dulces proyectiles.
Tenlo en cuenta. Vigílalos, pero guarda una distancia prudencial.
Los padres son los reyes. Aunque sea duro, a tu edad debes conocer la verdad de las cosas.
Y ya hablaremos algún día del ratoncito Pérez.
Menos la operación de entrepierna, todo correcto.
Supongo que ese detalle es opcional.
“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared by way of settlers hither multifarious a ‚lan in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated hogshead hard by us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the excluding in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be assenting to wager a honourable speck of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the wet one’s whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the bow slung across my back.
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“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared by settlers about assorted a ‚lan in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden tun hard by us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be willing to wager a honourable portion of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the wet one’s whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the capitulate slung across my back.
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The very core of your writing whilst sounding agreeable originally, did not sit well with me after some time. Someplace throughout the sentences you managed to make me a believer unfortunately just for a while. I still have a problem with your leaps in logic and one might do nicely to fill in those breaks. In the event that you actually can accomplish that, I could surely end up being impressed.