His chest inflated like a balloon, it looks like his head is heavy as a stone and that it falls on his back, it’s the stone of his pride, weighing like an inherited anvil, it’s the stone of his pride that swings his skull on his scapula and inflates his thorax like a balloon, that’s what happens to my brother when he tells me he’s the best.
It was a bloody idea to buy a hamster. Who had such an idea?
When you have nothing to do, throwing stones is not more stupid than wasting your life. Blang blang see your can I can get it and even if it were thirty feet further I would get it nevertheless because I am, I, I, I, I am the best –HE is the best- yeah I am the best. Nobody’s better than my brother at throwing stones. He can get a can that is 80 feet away. It’s him, I can tell! HE is the best!
I told it a hundred times, putting the coop down on the table was not a fantastic idea. I told it a hundred times, it was not a good idea to open the coop. I told it a hundred times, by catching it like that in its coop we would end up making this animal fall down. I must have said that a hundred times. Or maybe I didn’t say it. Maybe I just thought of it but I didn’t say it. Shit, I can’t remember.
To say or not to say, can it change things?
Yeah Crocheton is the best, I know it well, he keeps on saying this all the time, I’m better than you, better than you, better than you, better. Yeah it’s true: he is better than me. So what did he have to demonstrate it to me? Why did he need to take up this challenge? Why did I need to challenge him?
When a hamster falls down from four feet high, what are the odds for it to pull through? If a hamster had wings, would it have enough time to take off?
I bugged him: If you’re the best, try and get this sparrow before it takes off.
To say or not to say, does it change things?
My sister was the one to open he coop. Pipine slipped in her hands. Her hands came off the coop. Hesitation, shiver, unbalance, BAM Pipine fell down on the floor. Distorted but alive. Still a little bit. A shivering Pendry put Pipine back in its coop.
The probability to kill a sparrow forty feet away with a stone throw is almost zero. But my brother, he’s the best.
Sometimes cruelty is just this. A stiffness, or on the opposite an oversized dexterity. It’s just this.
I just wanted to tell you that I’m always scared that everything roughly stop, I just wanted to tell you that I’m always scared to suddenly die, I’m always scared that the next seconds never come, that everything burst, that my life fall down into a hole. I just wanted to tell you that this is precisely the reason why I’m writing. Not for you, no, just for me. Because I don’t know if I will have the time. Because I’m scared of being a sparrow, scared of being a hamster, scared of not being the best.
So, please, don’t cast the first stone to me.