Profit Margin For Running Shoes

normal FROST, George Loring: A believer

the evening, two strangers are in the dark corridors a picture gallery. With a slight chill, one of them said
"This place is ominous. Do you believe in ghosts?

"I do not," replied the other. And you?

"I do," said the first and disappeared.

.

George Loring Frost

(England, 1887 /?)

.

Some facts about the author say he was born, supposedly, in Brentford, England, in 1887, and this story belongs to his book Memorabilia (1923). Was included in the Anthology of Fantastic Literature, by Jorge Luis Borges, Adolfo Bioy Casares and Silvina Ocampo (Bogota, Editorial Sudamericana, 1994).

But they say that Frost did not exist and was itself an invention of Jorge Luis Borges. Frost does not appear in English literature and writing vocabulary is typical of Borges. Nor do we know the date of the death of Frost and Borges know that played a lot with the "imprecise." Who can bring something more about this suspect Frost, do so. Welcome.

Piercing Apprenticeship Birmingham

Saer, Juan José: Sheltered

A furniture dealer had just bought a second hand chair once discovered a hole in the back of their former owners had hidden his diary. For some reason, death, oblivion, hurried flight, however, the paper had been there, and the trader, an expert in furniture construction, had chanced to touch the back to test its strength. That day he stayed until late in the crowded business of beds, chairs, tables and wardrobes, behind the scenes by reading the diary in the light of the lamp, bent over the desk. The newspaper revealed day by day, the emotional problems of the author and Furniture, that was a wise and discreet man, he understood immediately that the woman had lived to hide his true personality and who by chance inconceivable, he knew better than people who had lived with her and that was mentioned in the diary. The Upholstery was thoughtful. For a while, the idea that someone might have in your house, sheltered from the world, something hidden, a journal, or whatever, "it seemed strange, almost impossible, until a few minutes later, at the time he got up and began to tidy up your desk before you leave home, realized, not without amazement, that he had, somewhere, hidden things of the world knew the existence. At home, for example, in the attic, in a tin box hidden from old magazines and clutter the Upholstery had kept a roll of bills, which got bigger from time to time, and whose existence until his wife and children unknown, the Upholstery could not say precisely how an object kept those notes, but it was gradually gaining the unpleasant certainty that his entire life is defined not by their daily activities exercised in the light of day, but by that roll of bills that are eating away in the attic. And all the acts, was fundamental, no doubt, adding occasionally a ticket to roll eaten.
While the sign lit up brighter than violet light filled the black air above the sidewalk, the Upholstery was assaulted by another memory looking for a sharpener in the room of his eldest son, had come across a series of pornographic photographs his son hid in the dresser drawer. The Upholstery had iced to leave quickly in place, less modesty than by the fear that your child will think that he used to rummage through his things. During dinner, Upholstery began to watch his wife for the first time after thirty years came into his head the idea of she also had to keep something hidden, something peculiar and so deeply sunk that although she herself wanted, even torture could make him confess. The Upholstery felt a kind of vertigo. It was banal fear to be betrayed or cheated that made him the head spinning like a wine that goes, but the certainty that, just when I was in um argument against the elderly, would perhaps be required to change the most fundamental notions that were his life. Or what he called his life because his life, his real life, according to new insight, passed somewhere in the black, sheltered from the events, and seemed more elusive than the outskirts of the universe.

Juan José Saer

Getting Kosove Invitation

CASAS, Fabian:

walked with my father, by the parking lot.

is a sweltering hot day

and heated asphalt

see the shadow of a black bird

flying in circles,

as a satellite of our misfortune.

A crowd victorious behind us,

still rages on the field.

just lost the championship.

The car's cabin is a wood oven;

seats and the sun burning sticks

in glass blinds.

But no matter, as two monks

willing to blow themselves up,

we sit down and turn on the engine:

Fabián Casas and his father

Van car to die.

.

FABIAN PROPERTIES (Buenos Aires, Argentina, 1965)

Dana Lighting Company

Cancharayada Fontanarrosa, Roberto: All

- Ricardo!
-Ah ...
"Come over here.
"I'm coming.
- Come here, I say!
-Why ...
- Come over here I tell you, immediately! Ricardo
appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, shirt that had been taken yet in hand. Clara was leaning against neroLite table, arms crossed, the amarillito plush robe closed around his neck.
- What? Asked Ricardo, threatening to go to his room.
- What? Clara repeated. Do you still wonder what happens? Still you have the nerve to ask what happens?
Ricardo's eyes stared at her, questioning, the plaid shirt around his index finger as a perch.
- Do you know what time it is? Asked Clara, tense neck muscles. Ricardo shrugged.
- Do you know what time it is? Clara repeated. Do you have any idea what time it is?
I do not know ... I do not know ... Ricardo ventured. One. The one and a half.
- "The one, the one and a half"! Clara-imitated as it catapulted from the counter of the sink, and crossed in two quick steps the space that separated her from Ricardo, who was startled. "The one and a half", brat of crap! -Discovered in the eyes of Richard, putting an inch of the tabs at his watch. Four! The four shit brat! The four o'clock are!
-Nooo ... -Ricardo seemed to ignore, almost stunned.
- Do not be stupid! Unhappy! -Clara and could not hold up and threw down a couple of slaps on the face pompous Richard.
- makin 'that you do not know what time it is, you get the stupid, stupid! Ricardo
dropped the shirt, he dropped back to support the lean bare back against the kitchen door, hit, score, against the wall.
- Pará! Para! "He managed to say, covering himself with his forearms. What! ...
- Impregnate crap! "Continued punishing disorderly Clara. Still want me to believe that you have no idea what time! Trash!
- wait a sec! -Ricardo, stooping, reaching to sneak into the dark dining room running. What's wrong?
- What's Up? What's Up? "Clara had given up chasing after the latest air Claymore, and now was leaning with one of his hands against the doorway, agitated, taking a tragic gesture. I still wonder what happens to me? That I'll kill you, that happens to me, you and your sister will kill me, That's what you're looking for! What you are looking for is that, give me a syncope and drop me round the floor! When you get it going to be happy, only then will you be happy, only then, Chinaman of shit!
slowly, closing with a gesture careful baton neck, fitting a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead, Clara, still breathing hard, wishing for the distance he had traveled to his son and turned to lean against the kitchen counter . He lowered his head and took his forehead with his right hand.
"That's what you're looking for this brat," he said to himself, but aloud. Give me a heart attack and I die. . .
Ricardo had become slowly and silently to look out the kitchen door. He had picked up, even his shirt from the floor.
"There are going to be happy, there are going to be happy," continued Clara, cautioning its reappearance. That yes. There is no longer going to have to control you poor old fool, you gonna be happy. That's what you want. That.
"No, look ... She tried to Ricardo.
"But I'll give you a taste-Clara resumed its violent tone, shaking his head. I will not give the taste. I swear that until the day he burst like a beast for the inconvenience I give you and the other for your sister, I swear that as there is a God, I'm going to have shortie and I will put in track, I swear, if it costs me ... , Was slowly injected energy into herself ... if it costs me, I know, years of health, life, years of life that cost me you and your sister with the dirty tricks they do. But I tell you eh? I say, until that day the head metete your mother you're going to respect, because you are going to comply and if there is anything that annoys me and pisses me off is that these stories give me with these lies ...
- What lies ...? "Complained Ricardo. What happens is you get mad ... "That was a slap to Clara.
- What lies, you say? What lies, you say? Sarnoso! It appears very breezed four in the morning and the man says he does not know what time it is, says it's half past one and I go out with no lies, yet you come with me that!
Ricardo stepped back, foresight, into the darkness of the room.
"If I were your father would not do it well. Well you would not, "lamented Clara, even threatening, however. Your father crossed the face of a slap, you little shit. Because if there was anything she could not stand was a lie, was all he tried to instill. Why? To let a wretch like you who just want to fuck me life, that, fuck life. Clara
one minute remained silent, as taking a deep breath, staring at Ricardo who supported the shoulder on the doorway, pretending to be interested in a shirt button, unexpectedly weak.
- Want to tell me where you been? He asked, at last, Clara.
-Ehh ...
- can you tell me where you were to come back at four o'clock?
-Piece Pouch and went with a. ..
"Oh, when not to! When no! -Clara joined a slap hands against his chest, look, this time, to the refrigerator across the kitchen. When not going to be with those two ... with those two ... vagrants, loafers ...
-East ... went with them ...
- but is it possible? "Clara looked at him now, without removing the hands that ranged from front to back as one mixture given within them. Is it possible that you always have to be with those useless, those two unhappy? What you get ... ? Do you ...?
- If you do not know ...! -Dared to offend Ricardo.
- And do you think you need to know, do you think you need to know or speak half a word with these loafers to know that they are useless, vans, rude! Do you believe that? Ricardo scratched his head.
"If just standing on the corner to see them to realize what they are, m'hijito. Dirty hoodlums ... -Clara loafers spit-words ...
-Pouch workers said Ricardo.
- What's going to work on that bum! Will it works! Ricardo
again picking on the button of his shirt. Clara turned his hands into the pockets of large baton. A twitch tugged upper lip.
- I do not know why you have these two so that you have so enthralled that you like a dog behind them! "He mocked Clara.
- Who is like a puppy, who? -Was angry, now, touched his pride, Ricardo.
- You'll like a puppy! You, the living! I use it, you grab the pimp, you have your nose like a ...
- But why do not you ...! -Ricardo stepped forward, angry and defiant.
- Shut your mouth! Shut your mouth! -Contragolpeó Clara, advancing a step in turn to Ricardo. The only thing missing is that I come to cry, you little dirtbag! The only thing I needed!
Ricardo returned to his former position under the door frame. Clara decided not to leave the fury recovered.
- Where did you go, tell me "challenge", where did you go with those other two, your friends, see, where did you go?
"I told you we were ... -Ricardo restarted.
"But ... Beware! Clara-threatened in the top right hand index. Think well, think well what you say because not leave me with a lie. That we do not leave me with a lie because I swear I'll be sorry, you swear that you will regret. If you come with me one of your classic lies I assure you I will not be your father but to draw strength from somewhere to get into line, you know well that I seem tame but I am meek until they come to life and then fuck me assure you that I am capable of breaking something in the head, eh? Think it well, think well what you say ...
"Yes ... "Richard shrugged. What's wrong? Clara
crossed his arms in the middle of the kitchen and stared, waiting.
"We went with the Suitcase and the pool of Esteban Cacho ... "Began Richard.
Clara's eyes narrowed.
- What pool? He asked, in apparent calm.
"There, that of Stephen ... that of ...
- who is next to the copy shop? Clara asked again contained.
"Yes ... yes ... "Ricardo looked doubtful.
- who has painted some things, in gold, in the glass?
"Yes ... what I ... yes, I think so ...
Clara did not hesitate this time, suddenly leaving his position waiting pounced on her son and gave him a pair of shorts and accurate kick on the shins. Ricardo, surprised, only managed to shrink, torn between protecting his legs or lift his arms over the head where they fell, disorganized, the Trompis Clara.
- Garbage, rubbish, rubbish! Shouted This, finally opting to grasp the hair of Richard and shaking me, but could not, however, that he fell almost slip away under the table. Trash!
"But ... but ... Why? -Ricardo almost begged an explanation, on his knees.
- I told you, I told you! Clara repeated striking a two-handed sword on the table as if they could reach the head of Ricardo. I told you not lied, crap! ... But ... Why, why, why I had to have a son like this? "Now, Clara had left the front of attack. He turned on his heels, covered her face with one hand, left arm your belly, as if for a moment of respite to prevent cardiac collapse. Why? "Almost sobbed. What have I done to deserve such a monster? I must have done something for God to punish me like that, something I have done! Angela told me and I did not believe him. She said she knew what she was saying. We were very soft, very soft ... Ricardo
soliloquy had taken his mother to leave the shelter under the table. Taking a look of pain came laboriously right ankle to a chair and sat down.
- Why is not your father? "Lamented Clara, turning to look at Ricardo, with red eyes. Why is not your father to get into line? Ricardo
without looking at her massaging her ankle persisted in complaining.
- and shut up! Huh? Shut up! Clara, "he warned.
- Look, look how I left ankle! "Cried Ricardo, on the verge of tears, stretching out his leg to his mother. This, or dull or lazy launched a new kick to the knee of Ricardo, which was not white.
- Kill boomed, that is what I should have done, unhappy, kill! How did your father, you synthase tame! Be thankful that I have not the strength of your father, God rest in the holy glory! I told you not lie to me, I told you before you begin to speak not lie to me, unhappy!
Ricardo stopped rubbing his ankle and sat on the back of the chair, had brought his right hand to his chin, preventing a new attack.
- Why ... Why? "He stammered.
- Why, why? Clara-imitated, standing in front of him, and stooping down to almost make your eyes are at the same height as your child. Because you know even lie, about it. Because the man is so alive, so live it the man, who even gives head to invent a lie. So. The man is so intelligent, that intelligence that gives to steal money from the wallet, or to sneak into the dance club, because it gives you for anything else, because it gives you to the studio or for the good things, so . For even gives you the head, unhappy to think that poor donkey load your mother, also a walk down the street. You know? Go down the street doing the shopping, so you and your sister the other everything and have to eat something once in a while, and today I passed the pool that you're saying, that pool of shit that you say, and was closed you know? It was closed!
-Nooo ... -Managed to say, Ricardo.
- was closed for mourning! "Clara had stood in front of his son by the forcefulness of the argument though.
"It can not be articulated Ricardo, confused. Was it in the afternoon ... Clara
immediately raised his right fist to download it.
- Shut up! "She screamed. Shut up! Do not keep lying, shit, stop lying, yet you have the nerve to want to keep lying! If even went through the pool, or did not pass on the sidewalk in front of the pool, Chinaman of crap, and you want to continue to deceive your mother! Clara
stopped, seeking to recover their normal breathing for two or three very long minutes was all that was heard in the kitchen, further highlighting the silence outside, street and night. Ricardo
pale, was almost lying on the chair, his neck resting on the top edge of support, eyes and hands busy in the belt buckle, as if the newly discovered at that instante.Clara retreated to the counter of the kitchen, rubbed the thigh of the right leg as if he were to cramping and shakily but as slow and said:
"Well, now you tell me, once and for all, from whence come . Where were. But I'll tell the truth. I'll tell the truth because if you tell me the truth guarantor going to meet me, you're going guarantor to know them as he spoke his tone recovering sharp edges, stress-threatening and angry ... if I say the truth, Richard, I assure you that this house will change many things and especially you are going to end the spree. You will end up partying, Ricardo, because I'm good, I endured many things, I like many things, but there comes a moment when I say enough and I swear it's enough. So tell me the truth because you know, you know, I swear to God, Richard, that if I got to lie back you will regret, you'll be sorry because you will regret, Ricardo.
"Hey ... -Ricardo seemed to focus.
- Where were you, Richard, where were you?
"We went to the pharmacy ...
- Does the pharmacy? Were you alone or with who? Clara-drained.
-With Pouch and Ricardo Cacho-be darkened, looking at his mother. I told you right?
"It no longer believe you, see? We no longer believe you. Do not believe anything. How do you want to believe you? Why should I believe you? Go with Pouch and Cacho. Followed.
-bag and went to the pharmacy Cacho ...
Clara's face was wrinkled with surprise.
- Do the pharmacy? He asked. And why the pharmacy? Why pharmacy?
"Here, the Don Flores.
of Don-A-Clara Flores placed his hands on her waist. A pharmacy Don Flores. Be careful what you say, Ricardo, tené very carefully with what I describe, Ricardo. Look that I can grab the newspaper and look for on the night chemists, Ricardo, look I can ... "He warned.
-Y fijate, fijate ... -Challenged Ricardo.
"No, I went on Clara sit back again. What I want to say what they were doing there, I want to say?
-The Bag was looking for I do not know what. Pills. Some amphetamines. What shall I, is given with it. Ricardo
"Look, look, Clara raised his right index finger in the air. I think you're making this up, I know you and I think we're inventing. That I am not aware that ...!
- No, no, I tell you no! It is true, indeed! Clara
strongly pointed out.
- Look who I can talk to Don Flores-threatened-to see if they're telling the truth! I do not give a damn grab the phone right now and talk to Don Flores and ask if it is true that you were there with the other two! Look for those things that I am commanded to do!
"If you want to call" Ricardo shrugged. If you want to call ... Don Flores but difficult because you attend Pouch hit with an iron head and did mucus.
- Do not believe me, for the night, I am not able to grab the phone and talk to anybody so to find out if you're lying as I always lie, shit brat!
"I'll only tell you," stated Ricardo sitting more erect in his chair and, now, daring to look into the eyes of his mother-is that he beat Don Pouch Flowers with an iron head and think "Richard swung his right hand horizontally, palm down, illustrating that something was over-... to me that killed him, because he fell to the ground as dead. It fit snug in the bearing, here in the middle of the forehead. The old man fell to the ground and when I looked had a lot of blood in the head and did not move or anything. To make matters worse, they fell down and gave her head against the tile, you saw that the floor is tile, and did not move. For me ...
"But I can call to Lujan, the wife Clara dogged. You know I'm pretty good friends with Lujan and that she will not have any but no problem in telling me things as they are. We are good friends with Lujan, Ricardo, very friendly, sabelo! I can call. So do not take me an idiot because ...
- Who grabs you idiot?
-... I grabbed the phone, call Luján and she'll say ...
- but name it, name it, extended his arm, pointing, Ricardo, more reinforced in its position. Go on, call her if you want!
- Of course I will call, of course, will not you come to tell you what I have to do!
- Go on, name it!
"I'm going to call, and I'll call ... She
itself around you will be able to answer, "continued Richard. If you're at home, so it came to cracking outside to the street and I caught a hit with the chain. But it did not fall. I managed to hit around here, head to the side of the head and neck, shoulder, gave him no good. But it fell and ran outside. I did blood, though.
She will tell me, you do not worry, she will say. You'll see that I'm going to tell.
Clara stared at his son, tapping in time with the sole of her right slipper on the floor, slightly quieter. Ricardo looked into her eyes.
- What? He asked. "Nor do I believe now?
I do not know, do not know, "Clara calculated. I do not know.
-Ufa ... Ricardo grumbled. Also you, too ...
"But I told you a thousand times," Clara began as a dissertation recently picking up ... I suffer not lie to me. It makes me frantic to lie to me, you and the other sister. It's the first thing we tried to instill I and your father. The first things first, the first thing we tried to instill. Strongly
He got his hands in the pockets of his robe and turned on his heels a few times, lost in thought.
"Well ... Said finally. Go to sleep. Ricardo
stood up, scratching his head.
- Have you got hungry? Clara asked. Want to warm you something?
Ricardo shook his head, yawning, as he was going to his room.
Clara shrugged. He opened the fridge, poured a little fresh water. Then turned off the light and went well.

.

.

.

Roberto Fontanarrosa

(Argentina, 1944/2007)

What Kills Strep Throat

truth Costantini, Humberto: The future

How nice was future

future

the board of the fourth degree,

all done with colored chalk

and a good confidence,

of old,

of those that are no longer available

or paying cash.

.

was really cute, cute

that future

the board in the fourth, had

decent guys holding hands

guys with clean ears

and right middle

surely and teeth brushed.

.

swear it was very pretty

future

the board of fourth grade. There

bulls, dragonflies and rivers

had trains, pigeons and elevators and airplanes

were fields and schools and tall buildings

had cows and sheep grazing

beautifully.

.

was a church and a cornfield

and a marina with many boats.

the background, of course,

wide yellow rising sun,

with her eyes, her mouth, her smile

actually quite similar

to the top of the notebook 'Sun of May'

but anyway it was a wonder that

future

the board of fourth grade.

.

Ah, if I could enter in the future!

In the future one in six colors

the board of fourth grade. How

walk straight into the fat yellow smiley

cozy, human.

How would walk among bulls, dragonflies and rivers

and doves and trains and airplanes.

.

Maybe hand iríatomado

of a decent guy, goodie, well groomed. We would walk

happy and full of hope

because it is clear ... the road would be beautiful and easy

as were the roads of the future

in the future nice

the board of fourth grade.

.

without barriers, rocks,

no wells, no traffic lights

nobody ask

documents or requisitioned us

bearings

subversive or we suspect thieves

or extremist or infiltrates.

.

Nobody would get, of course,

in a vicious ghostly Ford Falcon,

far we would go to appear the next day

next to a pile of capsules served,

not say newspapers

chiquititas with his lyrics and his ugly syntax

things like "we proceeded to identify them."

.

No, no,

simply not

because it did not appear at all in the future, because

Miss it had not drawn

with erasers, and chalk and hope

neat and clear in the future

as the board of grade.

Which as we know it was all done

with colored chalk

with a round sun Sol de Mayo

and confidence good, old,

of those that are no longer available

or paying cash.
.

Humberto Costantini
(Argentina, 1924/1987)