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Today Narcisa made a new friend.

“Come and talk to her, Cigano. She’s nice.”

“I don’t wanna meet anymore of your man-hating lesbian bitch friends, Narcisa,” I said, still stinging from the trauma of the last time she ditched me for an ugly old demented alcoholic lesbian poet who hated me, hated all men, putting me through the torments of Hell for an entire month.

“She’s no the lesbian, man. She’s just a girl who ran from the crazy house an’ she don’ know anybody an’ she got nowhere to go. Please Cigano, just come an’ talk to her. Narcisa need some friend, these is all. Don’ be jealous. You know I love only you.”

Perfect.

So once again she managed to get her way with me, like she always gets her way with everybody, like she’s long gotten her way with hundreds of young girls and old men and everybody in between, all across the length and breadth of Brazil, one day at a time for years and years, as her cherished survival skills open all doors for her along her slippery, slimy path to Hell. Manipulating, conniving, convincing her way into the lives of a few unfortunate bastards. Her “friends”.

Welcome home, new friend. Welcome home.

Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2008.

NOTIFICAÇÃO: Os eventos relatados neste site são contos de ficção registrados na Biblioteca Nacional com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor Jonathan Shaw. Os personagens mencionados são inteiramente fictícios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos, foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa viva ou morta se trata de pura coincidência. As várias fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.