Era uma manhã de sexta-feira em que as águas desciam torrencialmente sobre a cidade, fechando o verão.
Época em que os celulares ainda não tinham invadido o País, e em que as pessoas desfilavam nas ruas com brincos, pulseiras e relógios de ouro.
O sujeito entrou no ônibus, acompanhado de um rapazola, carregando uma mochila fina e comprida, donde se podia perceber um volume grosso e comprido em seu interior. Afora um olhar curioso que estendia volta e meia a todos os passageiros, não me pareceu que o indivíduo oferecesse algum perigo.
A viagem continuou até que minguaram os passageiros, estando, agora, todos assentados. E foi nesse intervalo de tempo, e próximo ao ponto que eu haveria de descer, que o indivíduo, repentinamente, ergueu-se da cadeira, postou-se de frente para todos, abriu a mochila, retirou uma grande e grossa vela e dois revólveres, e começou um bailado grotesco, mirando para o motorista e ao mesmo tempo para todos os passageiros, ordenando que um por um colocasse dentro da sua mochila: relógios, carteiras, pulseiras e toda espécie de valor que visualizava nos presentes – “oferecida” a cada passageiro pelo seu comparsa, como se fosse sacolinha de igreja na hora do ofertório. Os mais resistentes eram surpreendidos pelo sujeito da sacola que, rapidamente, arrancava-lhes do pescoço, orelhas e braços tudo que lhe fosse negado.
Eu, como não portava nada no corpo, por ser macaco velho, fui obrigado a tirar a minha camisa, porque o sujeito que estava na frente achou que ela serviria para dar, ao seu corpo, ares de festa, vestindo-a imediatamente, sob a proteção do comparsa que se apoderou das armas.
Isso tudo se passou em poucos minutos, com o ônibus andando, já que a primeira ordem dada ao motorista era de que seguisse viagem, em velocidade média, e não parasse para ninguém.
E não é que depois de a mochila já estar recheada, o sujeito da frente pisca para o “ajudante” que, numa fração de segundos, retira um isqueiro, ergue a grossa vela e a acende, enquanto o outro berra para todos:
– O negócio é o seguinte, cambada: Hoje é o meu aniversário e prometi a mim mesmo que muita gente boa vai cantá um “parabéns pra você” pra mim. Nunca tive isso na vida, de maneira que quero todo mundo bateno palma e cantano alto, senão, vou desejá “muitos anos de morte” pra neguinho desobediente.”
E, grotescamente, me vi obrigado a cantar parabéns para um sujeito que eu desejava que estivesse no “outro mundo”.
Antes de chegarmos ao “muitos anos de vida”, o motorista deu uma forte brecada, derrubando o sujeito sobre a arma que disparou e o “apagou” juntamente com a chama da grande vela.
Confesso que não me incomodei ao ver a minha camisa novinha com um buraco no meio.
Foi aquele alvoroço: o rapazola desceu apavorado, pois a multidão partiu em seu encalço.
Que Deus tenha compaixão de mim, porque, ao ver o sujeito pronto para o velório, com vela e tudo, arrematei:
– Vai comemorar a morte no inferno, seu infeliz!
Sem camisa, indo em direção ao trabalho, eu não queria acreditar que aquele dia fosse 1º de abril!
Bahisbu giriş adresi için hemen ziyaret et.
Jokerbet giriş adresi ile sende kazan.
Fragrance notes – helloperfume.net
Bahisbu giriş adresi ile sende kazan.
Kıbrıs araç kiralama işlemleri için İdil Car’ı ziyaret et.
Sofya Üniversitesi Başvuru Şartları Sofya Üniversitesi Başvuru Şartları
Wroclaw Tekniversitesi Başvuru Tarihleri Wroclaw Tekniversitesi Başvuru Tarihleri
Sofya Üniversitesi Bölümleri Sofya Üniversitesi Bölümleri
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