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foundtherightwords · 3 months ago

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As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 1

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

A/N: My inspiration for this came from these lovely artworks that reimagine Beauty and the Beast in a 1950s setting. The idea of making the Beast a World War II veteran jumped out at me, and given that "Overlord" is a World War II movie, I immediately knew I'd write this for Grunauer. I based this on the original screenplay more than the movie itself (Grunauer's full name and the fact that he's from Miami are both in the script), since Grunauer actually survives in that. The title is, of course, a lyric from "Beauty and the Beast".

Warnings: period-typical attitudes (sexism, racism, prejudice), PTSD, some violence, non-explicit smut

Chapter warnings: period-typical sexism and prejudice

Chapter word count: 5.2k

Chapter 1

"I'm so glad the sugar ration is over, aren't you?" Mrs. McLeish said, peering at the rows and rows of cakes and pastries behind the glass.

"We all are, Mrs. McLeish," replied Alba, handing the gray-haired lady her purchase neatly wrapped in paper bags. "That'll be a dollar and sixty-three cents."

"Are you sure, dear?" Mrs. McLeish felt the bags, trying to remember what she'd bought.

"Of course. Ninety cents for half a dozen loaves of bread, fifty-two cents for ten ham croquetas, and twenty-one cents for three cheese pasteles," counted Alba. There had been no mistake—Alba knew this was only Mrs. McLeish's way to weasel some discount out of her.

Mrs. McLeish started counting out her money with excruciating slowness. "My Ted has been so looking forward to your bakes ever since he came back from the Pacific, you know."

Alba smiled and reached into the display case again. "Well, here's a slice of tres leches cake, to thank Ted for his service. On the house," she quickly added. Mrs. McLeish's wrinkles immediately relaxed, just as Alba knew they would. Papi wouldn't like it, but they couldn't afford to alienate a customer now.

Mrs. McLeish was barely out of the door when the cheerful chime of the shop bell was drowned out by an obnoxious roar. Alba looked up to see a bright red Aston Martin screech to a halt across the street.

"¡Mierda!" she muttered under her breath. This bit of profanity earned her a stern look from the statue of La Cachita, the patroness of Cuba, on her altar set in a corner of the bakery. "Sorry," Alba mumbled to the statue. She tried to dip behind the counter, but it was too late. The driver, a tall, broad-shouldered man with raven hair slicked back, wearing a leather flight jacket that was too heavy for Miami in late June, was already striding toward the door. He pushed it open with unnecessary force, making the bell chime furiously in protest.

"Allie!" he declared, flashing a grin that showed his white teeth to perfection. "Just the girl I want to see."

Alba tried to pull her lips into the semblance of a smile and ended up with something more like a grimace instead. "Mr. Grant, good morning," she said. "What can I get you today?"

"Call me Gastin, dearest Allie," replied Grant, leaning against the counter. "How many times do I have to ask you again?"

"As many times as I've asked you to call me Alba, not Allie, Mr. Grant," Alba said smoothly. Grant's smile faltered, but only for a moment, before returning to full blast.

"But Allie sounds so much nicer! Allie Grant. Just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"

Ignoring his suggestive leer, Alba repeated, "What can I get you today? A pastelito, perhaps, or some croquetas?"

Grant shuddered. "God, no. Do you have any idea how fattening those can be, with all that cheese and butter and frying oil?"

It was on the tip of Alba's tongue to snap that he was in a shop that thrived on cheese and butter and frying oil, but she bit back the retort and simply said, a little impatiently now, "Then what do you want?"

"You know what I want, my dear Allie." Grant was now leaning so far over the counter that a bystander may think he was trying to reach into the till. "A date with you."

"I'm afraid I'm very busy at the moment," Alba said automatically.

Grant let out a derisive laugh. "Busy with what?" He gestured around the empty bakery. It was after eight; the first waves of customers had gone, which meant Grant had timed his visit to catch her specifically. He certainly hadn't driven all the way here from his swanky family mansion on Millionaire's Row for one of La Perla del Sur's pasteles.

Mierda.

"Come now, Allie," Grant continued, seizing her hand in a tight grip. "I don't understand why you keep working in this dump. When we're married, you'll have the biggest mansion on Miami Beach and never have to deal with all this misery..."

Alba's face tightened. For six months now, Grant had been hovering around the neighborhood and pestering her into going out with him, despite her making it clear that she had no time for him. She knew she was the minority in this. Most people would consider him a great catch. A war hero and the heir to a real estate empire, courting the daughter of a lowly baker, a Cuban immigrant at that? She should have been over the moon. It was true that she had been flattered by his attention at first. But she wasn't interested in finding a boyfriend, and she'd treated him the same way she did all customers, polite and friendly. Only when Grant started harping on about marriage, as if they were already engaged, that she firmly shut it down. Even then, he couldn't seem to take a hint, whether because he was too arrogant or too dim, Alba wasn't sure. So her politeness had turned into grudging tolerance and finally into barely concealed dislike. Still, he refused to leave her alone.

"Maybe I like the misery," she bit out.

Grant opened his mouth, but before he could come up with a response, an angry voice rose from the street. It was Mr. Olson, whose grocery store was across the street from the bakery, and whose front door was currently being blocked by Grant's monster of a vehicle.

"Who's the schmuck that parked his car in front of my store?" Mr. Olson shouted, waving his broom. "Move it before I smash your headlights in!"

Grant flung Alba's hand aside and ran out of the bakery without another word. Seizing the opportunity, Alba ducked through the swinging door that separated the front of the bakery from the sweltering back room, where two enormous ovens were constantly belching out steam and heat. She almost collided with her younger sister, Beatriz.

"Alba!" Beatriz exclaimed. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I need you to man the counter for me," Alba said.

"Why?"

"He's here."

"Who?"

"You know who. Señor Slick." Alba's lips curled in distaste.

"Really?" Beatriz craned her neck to look through the curtain. Alba glanced behind her. Grant was busy arguing with Mr. Olson, but she grabbed Beatriz's shoulders and positioned herself so Beatriz would hide her from view anyway.

Alba couldn't understand why Grant was so determined to woo her. She definitely wasn't as pretty as Beatriz, though they shared the same features and coloring. The same hazel eyes on Beatriz were bright and clear, while Alba's eyes couldn't seem to decide which color they wanted to be and ended up as a sort of muddy brownish green. The same dark curls on Beatriz were glossy and bouncing with her steps, while Alba's had a tendency to frizz maddeningly in the humid Florida air, so she mostly kept it under a headscarf. Beatriz's figure was all soft curves, while Alba's was straight and flat as a pond cypress.

And most of all, Beatriz, like other girls in their neighborhood, was always making sheep's eyes at Grant. He never paid attention to any of them though. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps he only set his sights on Alba because he liked a conquest.

But Alba had no time to dwell on all of that now. "Yes," she told Beatriz, "and you can ogle him to your heart's content if you man the counter for me."

Beatriz's face fell. "But Papi told me to make the delivery." She gestured to a basket, packed with loaves of bread in paper bags, a box of ham and cheese croquetas, and a box of pasteles filled with guava jam, still warm from the oven.

"Delivery? Where to?" La Perla del Sur Bakery did not do deliveries. Those who knew of their bread and pastries would line up outside its door before the opening time of six o'clock, come rain or shine.

"The Grunauer place," said Beatriz.

Alba smacked her forehead. Of course. How could she forget?

The late Dr. Grunauer had been their landlord. When they first arrived in Miami from Cuba thirteen years ago, Alba's parents, Mauricio and Ana, had found a nearly dead town, brought to its knees by two great hurricanes and the Great Depression. They had rebuilt their lives alongside the city. They had found this place for cheap, and Dr. Grunauer, a professor at the university, had only been too glad to let them have it after the crash of the land boom. Mauricio had traded his suit and tie for an apron and worked tirelessly next to his wife to open this bakery. But it was difficult to curb the ambition of a high-ranking government official, even if the coup d'état of 1933 had stripped him of his power. Mauricio had borrowed from Dr. Grunauer to buy a vacant beachfront store, hoping to open another La Perla, to be run by Alba's older brother, Rafael. Then came the war, and Rafael joined the Air Force and never came back from the Pacific, and Ana soon followed him, so that was the end of that. The beachfront property was left to languish through the war, and in the end, Mauricio had to cut his loss and sell it for cheap.

Dr. Grunauer, too, had passed away a year before the end of the war. Mauricio was not one to ever forget a debt, and although Dr. Grunauer's only son, who had come home last year, never mentioned it, Mauricio had been sending him bread and pastries and even fresh fruits sometimes, hoping that he would not call in the debt any time soon.

Now Alba snatched the basket out of Beatriz's hand. "I'll go," she said. "You man the counter."

"But—but—" Beatriz glanced at the back, where Mauricio and the assistant baker, young Frank, were busy loading trays of shaped dough into the ovens. Alba knew Papi didn't like Beatriz to be at the front alone, despite the fact that she always drew a crowd, mostly of young men—or perhaps precisely because of that.

"Bea's too busy flirting," he'd once said to Alba. "She'll mistake flan for croquetas and sell her own shoes as pastelitos next. I need you there, to keep an eye on the till and tell me when we're running low on things." And so Alba had no choice but to grin and bear it, though she didn't have Beatriz's natural charm and ease with the customers, and a day working at the till always left her with crescents of sweat under her arms, sore cheeks from having to stretch them into unnatural smiles for so long, and a raging headache.

"The breakfast rush's over, you'll be fine," Alba assured her sister. "I'll be back before lunch." She rushed out the side door before Beatriz could raise further protest and draw Papi's attention.

"Be careful," Beatriz called after her. Alba wondered if the warning was meant to be about Grant or the Grunauer place.

As she wheeled her bicycle out the back gate and down the lane, Alba saw her best friend, Claudia Barron, watering her garden, the hose curving over her pregnant belly. Claudia had spent her whole life in their neighborhood of Cypress Grove. She'd grown up down the street, dated a literal boy next door, Marty, and after Marty came back from the war, they had gotten married and moved into a house on the same street. Sometimes Alba thought she would go crazy if she were Claudia, never going further than a few miles from where she grew up. Other times, she envied Claudia her straightforward life.

"How's Marty Junior?" Alba nodded at Claudia's belly.

"Kicking up a storm last night. It's this heat, I don't think he likes it." Claudia raised a quizzical eyebrow at the bread basket. "Where are you going with those?"

"Delivery to the Grunauer place."

"Some sweetener for Gruesome Grunauer, eh?"

"Don't call him that," Alba said, rolling her eyes.

"It fits him, though. Like father, like son. He's been back for what, a year? Yet nobody's seen him. He's locked himself away in that mansion with all those snakes and gators." Claudia shuddered. "I wonder at your dad, letting you go there alone. Why can't he or Frank go?"

"They're busy," Alba said shortly. "I have to go now."

Without waiting for Claudia's goodbye, she got on her bike and rode away. Claudia was a good friend, but she could be an awful gossip sometimes. "Gruesome Grunauer", indeed! Yes, it was true that Dr. Grunauer had always been rather strange. With his balding head, owlish eyes, and quiet, mumbling voice, he reminded Alba of a mad scientist, like Victor Frankenstein or Dr. Jekyll, and she, like the rest of the neighborhood kids, had been slightly afraid of him. The nickname had started when they found out he raised snakes and other reptiles on his land, and it stuck. There was a rumor that he even kept an alligator. Every Halloween, the kids always dared each other to go to the Grunauer place to get a glimpse of this alligator.

And then there was Mrs. Grunauer too. Apparently she had been bedridden, and nobody had ever seen her. When she passed away, shortly after Alba's family moved to Cypress Grove, people had whispered that Dr. Grunauer had poisoned his wife.

During the war, those childish rumors had persisted and taken on a more malicious tinge. The war hadn't been easy for Dr. Grunauer with his German name and German accent, and some people had even turned against the Reyes for their association with him. And now, with the old man dead and his son back at the mansion, more rumors had surfaced. They said young Grunauer had been badly injured in the war, and those injuries had left him disfigured. It didn't help that he never set foot outside of his home.

Alba never subscribed to the local rumor mill, but she couldn't help feeling a slight sense of trepidation as she rode her bike down the back lane that followed along the Tamiami Trail. Alba preferred this shortcut, which ran right through the cypress swamp west of the city. She had always loved the swamp, loved seeing the bald cypresses rising from it like majestic giants, their trunks dripping with ferns and orchids, loved watching the herons and egrets that waded amongst their roots, loved the thrill of sighting an alligator floating lazily over the dark water. Even with the occasional blare of a truck horn from the interstate in the distance, it still provided a quiet spot in the busy city.

This morning, though, Alba paid no attention to the beauty of nature. Leaning on the pedals, she only hoped that she'd made enough of a head start that Grant wouldn't be able to follow her in his car. She wondered how the Grunauer place had changed. She knew where it was, of course, though she'd been too much of a wimp to come right up to its gate. In her childhood memory, it was the grandest house she'd ever seen, as grand as the Palacio del Valle in her hometown of Cienfuegos back in Cuba. She also wondered what young Mr. Grunauer would be like. Though they were roughly the same age, young Grunauer had never been a part of the Cypress Grove gang—he had been sent to a boarding school in Jacksonville even before Alba arrived, and none of the kids in the neighborhood knew him.

Soon, the lane branched off into two even smaller trails, little more than footpaths lined by willow and cocoplum bushes. Rolling her bike down the right trail, Alba finally came to a clearing. The willows and cocoplums gave way to magnificent oaks covered in Spanish moss that stood on either side of the path like sentinels, guarding the mansion of her memories. It stood back from the path, a little aloof, a little wary, a queen surveying her empire, its white walls shining like a mirage against the dark canopies of the trees surrounding it. A porch held up by tall columns ran around the house, shielding it from the sun and prying eyes. A beautiful frangipani stood in the back, its branches, dotted with star-like blooms, reaching toward the house as if in adoration. If those oaks were the sentinels, then the frangipani was an attendant bowing down to the queen.

Alba shook her head. Such flights of fancy were usually Beatriz's purview; Alba herself was more likely to notice that the yard was overgrown, the porch needed sweeping, one of the window shutters was sagging, and the paint was chipping. A swing full of dead leaves creaked on rusty chains on the porch, adding to the overall abandoned air of the place. As she drew closer, she also saw a sign hanging crooked on one of the oaks, with "BEWARE OF DOG" scrawled across it. This mundane little detail dispelled any fanciful impression she had of the house, and instead of the palace of her childhood, now she only saw a sad, neglected place.

Alba looked around cautiously. There was no sign or sound of the dog she should beware of. Emboldened, she wheeled her bike past the rank of oaks and leaned it against the porch. The front door had no bell—Dr. Grunauer probably had gotten rid of it after the kids played too many games of ding dong ditch, and nobody came out here now—so she knocked instead.

No answer. She knocked again, louder, calling out, "Hello? Anybody home?" From somewhere deep inside the house, there was a bark. Although it was deep and rumbling, it wasn't the bark of a dog one should beware of. It was not ferocious or angry, only rather annoyed, like that of a dog that had been wakened up from a nap.

Alba reached for the door handle. It turned with some protest. She pushed the door open and stepped into a cool, dark front hall. Something crunched under her foot, and Alba looked down to find more dead leaves strewn across a hardwood floor that hadn't been swept in God knew how long. A door on her left was ajar, showing what looked like a living room overlooking the oak-lined drive. Next to this door was a staircase, its top disappearing into the dimness of the second floor. On the top of the stairs were some strange, pale shapes that looked like logs or a rolled-up carpet that somebody forgot to put away. Sunlight from the open door behind Alba couldn't penetrate the gloom, and thoughts of snakes and gators swirled around her head, making her hesitant to step beyond the little patch of light.

"Hello?" she called out again, her voice lost in the profound stillness of the house. "I'm from the bakery. Is there anybody here?"

There was that bark again, more excited than annoyed this time. In the hallway beyond the staircase, a huge shape emerged, silhouetted against the darkness. It was a dog, she could see that. The biggest dog she'd ever seen.

Alba stood rooted to the spot. She only had the presence of mind not to scream. Screaming would only agitate it further.

The shape came into view. It was a great boarhound, so dark and glossy that it appeared little more than patches of shininess in the dark. It stalked toward her on paws as big as dinner plates, eyes glinting, nose sniffing, tail lifted in alert.

Then, slowly, that tail moved side to side.

Alba couldn't believe her eyes.

The huge dog was wagging his tail. He'd stopped by the bottom of the staircase, seemingly trying to make up his mind about her, but clearly he didn't see her as a threat.

"Here, boy," Alba said shakily, reaching out a hand.

The dog ran to her and almost bowled her over in his eagerness to sniff the bread basket she was carrying. She tried to lift the basket out of reach, but it was quite difficult—when stood on his hind legs, the dog could easily reach her shoulders. "Down, boy," she said. The dog sat and looked up expectantly at her with his liquid black eyes. Alba gave him her hand. He licked it. "Oh, you're just a big softy, aren't you?" she said, laughing in relief and kneeling to rub his ears.

"He's an idiot," said a voice above her.

Startled, Alba looked up. What she'd thought was a roll-up carpet turned out to be a leg encased in khaki pants, and the logs were the arms. A person was lying on the top of the staircase.

"Who are you?" he said. She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the scowl in his voice.

"Alba Reyes," she replied. "I'm from La Perla del Sur."

"La what?"

"The bakery. I'm Mauricio Reyes' daughter. We rent your store in Cypress Grove?"

There was a groan, and the shapes moved. The man was sitting up. The dog gave a little woof and bounded up the stairs to join him. Alba involuntarily craned her neck, trying to get a better look. His face was still half-hidden in the gloom, and in the light shining through the window at the landing, she could just make out a shock of sandy brown curls and a pair of dark, dark eyes. There was no sign of those disfiguring injuries that she could see.

As those eyes met hers, fragments of memories flitted through her mind—a pair of brown eyes, schoolyard noises, the sudden, bright pain of a split lip, and a voice, asking, Where did you learn to punch like that?

Before she could grasp it, the memory was gone, like the reflection on the surface of a pond being broken up by a pebble. The eyes on the top of the stairs were scowling at her again.

"Good morning," she said uncertainly.

***

Derwin Grunauer was not having a good morning.

He'd woken at five, as usual. Even though he could now sleep in as late as he wanted, the habit developed after eight years of boarding school and three years in the army was hard to shake. He hadn't gotten up though. What would be the point? He had nowhere to be, nobody to see, nothing to do.

But Otto, who seemed to have a sixth sense of when his master was awake, had scratched at the door and whined, demanding to be let out, so Derwin had reluctantly gone downstairs, opened the door, and gave the dog his breakfast. For himself, he hadn't wanted any. His pantry had been empty since the day before, but he loathed picking up the phone to call the grocer. He knew he had to, eventually. Either that or starve to death, and Derwin didn't think he was brave enough or desperate enough for that. And so he'd made himself a cup of coffee with the dregs left in the pot and gone upstairs to mentally prepare himself, otherwise he would start panicking and stammering on the phone like an idiot.

Then his treacherous leg had tripped at the top of the stairs, making the cane fly out of his hand and sending him sprawling face-first across the steps. The fall hadn't hurt that bad—he'd been climbing as fast as his leg allowed, which was not very fast at all—but it had drained him of whatever energy he had, and left him angry and despondent. Angry at himself, at his throbbing leg, at the world in general. And despondent at life. He'd turned over and remained there, ignoring Otto's attempts to pull him to his feet. There was no point in getting up. There was no point to anything. He wished he could have stayed there until he melted in the heat and dissolved into the floor. Eventually, Otto had given up and returned to the kitchen to clean up the remnants of his breakfast.

He hadn't heard the knocks.

It was the smells that hit him first. The heavenly, warm, yeasty smell of freshly baked bread, the rich, savory smell of fried ham, and the buttery, sugary smell of pastries. His stomach growled.

Great. He was so hungry that he'd started hallucinating.

Then he heard the voice. Olfactory and audio hallucinations might be a bit much, so he cracked open an eye and looked for the source of the sound.

Somebody was standing in the front hall. No, not just somebody. A young woman. Wearing a sleeveless blouse and a sensible pair of slacks and sandals, with strands of her dark hair falling out of her headscarf. Sunlight was streaming in through the open door behind her, framing her like a halo as she looked up at him, her mouth falling open in surprise. She was too far away for him to make out the color of her eyes, but he could see that they were light and bright, fixed on him with none of the suspicion and hostility he was used to from other people, only curiosity.

Otto was licking her hand too. Traitor.

Still, Derwin refused to let himself be taken in. A lack of animosity didn't necessarily mean kindness. When he came home last year, after several months in St. Mary's Hospital in Portsmouth and a longer stint at the VA Hospital up in Bay Pines, where they'd tried and failed to get his leg back to working conditions, Derwin hadn't expected much. His father was gone, killed by the strain and loneliness of the war, and they had never been popular in town to begin with. He'd only hoped to settle down and have a quiet life. Yet somehow, what he found was even less than what he'd expected. People turned their backs on him in stores and restaurants, whispering to each other and pulling their children close wherever he went past, calling him Kraut and Jerry and worse. All because he had the misfortune of bearing a German name.

This young woman, whoever she was, probably hadn't heard much about him. The moment she did, she would turn and run, like all the others. And when she said she was renting the old store in Cypress Grove, it fell into place. She was his tenant. No wonder she was friendly. She couldn't afford not to.

"My father asked me to bring you some bread," she was saying.

Derwin's stomach growled again, so loudly that he was sure the young woman heard it from all the way at the bottom of the stairs. He grimaced, mortified.

The bakery... yes, he remembered now. In the past few months, he'd been finding bread and pastries outside his front door with a note saying "Compliments of La Perla del Sur Bakery". He'd been wary, but then he'd come across the name on his monthly bank statements and realized they were just trying to be nice to their landlord. The bread was good, and the pastries were phenomenal. Plus, it saved him from having to go to the store. They had tried knocking at first, and when he never answered them, they just left everything on the porch, like a silent offering to some faceless deity. Once, he hadn't found it until days afterward, when the bread had gone soggy in the humidity and the pastries stale. He'd eaten them anyway.

His love for pastries didn't stop him from feeling annoyed with this young woman for invading his space, however.

"Are you OK?" she asked after a while, when he didn't say anything or make any move. "Do you need help getting up?"

He grunted a refusal.

"Should I bring these into the kitchen for you?" she continued, lifting a wicker basket to show him. The mouthwatering smell intensified.

"No need," he mumbled. "Just set them down there."

"Where?" The woman looked around the front hall. There was no place to put anything, except for a side table piled high with mail that Derwin couldn't bring himself to open.

"Anywhere."

"Your dog may get into them."

"I don't care."

"I'm going to put them in the kitchen," she said in a voice that invited no further argument, and before he could stop her, she was walking briskly down the corridor. She tossed a piece of pastry to Otto, and he immediately followed her, tail wagging. Traitor.

Grumbling under his breath, Derwin pulled himself up by the banister and limped his way downstairs. If he didn't catch her in time, this woman may go through the entire house, and he couldn't have that.

He stumbled off the last step and almost ran straight into the woman, who was coming back from the kitchen.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, catching his arms and helping him stand up straight.

Their eyes met, and Derwin found his breath caught in his throat for a moment. He'd been right—her eyes were light, bright green, gleaming like a forest pool in the shade, where the leafy canopy above is reflected in the quiet depth of the water.

Those eyes flicked briefly to the scar on his left cheek, before turning away, not out of disgust as Derwin had expected, but rather of embarrassment. She took a step back and let go of his arms.

"I've put the bread in your bread box," she said (I have a bread box? though Derwin). "I'm not sure when you want the pastries, so I've put them in your fridge. Heat them in the oven before you eat them, they'll taste better. The guava pastries will go great with some coffee."

That was probably the most anybody had ever said to him in over a year. Derwin stared at the young woman, not knowing what to say. She gave him a smile—quick and uncertain, but a smile nonetheless—and walked out with that same brisk, graceful stride, still followed by Otto, who was gazing at her adoringly.

"Otto, stay," Derwin said sternly when the dog looked like he wanted to follow the woman out the door. Otto reluctantly obeyed.

"Oh and, don't set the oven higher than two hundred degrees when you warm the pastries, or they'll get burned," the woman said over her shoulder, before closing the door behind her. A moment later, Derwin heard her bike rattling down the drive.

He glanced at Otto, who met his eyes with a wistful, reproachful look. "Don't look at me like that," Derwin said. "I didn't chase her off."

Leaving Otto in the front hall to whine and watch the figure on the bike disappear behind the oaks, Derwin limped into the kitchen to retrieve the pastries. She was right; they tasted much better warm, though he wouldn't offend them by pairing them with his dishwater coffee. Otto soon gave up his vigil and came into the kitchen as well, looking inconsolable. Derwin took pity on the dog and shared the ham croquettes with him.

"Just because she gave you pastries doesn't mean that she's your friend," he told the dog.

Otto always fell in love with anyone who showed him the smallest bit of attention. It was a terrible habit.

Chapter 2

So here's the Grunauer fic that I promised! It's my longest to date (82k, 20 chapters plus an epilogue), so I'm going to post it twice a week. If you want to be tagged when I update it, let me know, or you can just check back here every Tuesday and Saturday!

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #grunauer #grunauer overlord #overlord 2018 #grunauer x ofc

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cielolovebarum · 3 years ago

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ADDIO LA MIA SORELLA CARA

EL LIBRO 20

POR LA SANTA BERTHA ADDIO LA MIA SORELLA CARA ADDIO LA MIA SORELLA CARA ADDIO LA MIA SORELLA CARA

LOS TOLTECAS FOOT BALL SOCCER RE MASTERIZADO

Y este es El Cuadro Titular de El Equipo:

1.- El Portero… El Miguel Marin.

2.- El Defensa Izquierdo… El Giacinto Facchetti.

3.- El Defensa Central… El Franz Beckenbauer.

4.- El Defensa Derecho… El Bobby Moore.

5.- El Medio Izquierdo… El Osvaldo Castro.

6.- El Medio Lateral Izquierdo… El Vitor Borba Ferreira Gómez.

7.- El Medio Central… El Alberto Onofre Cervantes.

8.- El Medio Lateral Derecho… El Johan Cruijff.

9.- El Medio Derecho… El J.J. Muñante.

10.- El Delantero Izquierdo… Roberto El Hermoso.

11.- El Delantero Derecho… El Pheriberto Sánchez.

Y los reservas son: El Zinedine Zidane, El Landon Donovan, El Figo, El Ceroel Sánchez El Fredy Rincon, El Willy Gómez, El Heriberto Martínez, El Cabiño, El Berna Garcia, El Ataulfo Sánchez, El Sheriff Quirarte, El Alfredo Tena y El Alberto Quintano.

Y entonces rápidamente El Karparov mando a replegar todos Los Trabajadores en El Circulo de costales de arena que tenía para estos casos de emergencia y ya con todas Las Armas preparadas y comenzaron a defenderse y a presentarles pelea.

Los sonidos de Las Balas silbaban peligrosamente por el lado de sus cuerpos, pero lo único que contaban era que estaban bien protegidos por atrás de Las Barreras, así como lo hacían Los Pioneros con Las Carretas cuando los atacaban Los Indios.

Y cuando Los Alemanes se dieron cuenta que no les podían hacer daño porque ya estaban gastando mucho parque y que a la larga peligrosamente se quedarían sin municiones, pero temiendo un contra golpe de Los Rancheros, prefirieron tocar retirada y dejar El Ataque para mejor ocasión.

Y cuando los vieron retirarse todos Los Trabajadores de El Andre saltaron de alegría porque ese había sido un pequeño triunfo para La Polonia.

Y después de un par de semanas cuando ya todo estaba en La completa Calma, vemos como La Señora Lydia llevaba de La Mano al mercado a La Berthinadia para hacer Las Compras y de repente se detuvo en La Carnicería.

Pero La Niña no se dio cuenta que se había parado por debajo de Las Cabezas de Marranos que estaban colgadas y fue tanta su mala suerte que de todas esas cabezas que ahí había una se cayera exactamente sobre la cara cuando ella estaba mirando hacia arriba.

Y entonces recibió El tremendo Golpazo del marrano y de nalgas fue a dar y toda bañada en sangre porque la cabeza le hizo una herida de cinco centímetros en La Frente.

Hasta Los Carniceros se espantaron y salieron rápidamente para socorrerla limpiándole La Herida y bloqueando La Sangre con vaselina como le hacen a los boxeadores y se la llevaron de volada al hospital mas cercano y cuando Los Doctores la estaban curando se quedaban maravillados por ver como a la niña que en vez de llorar reía toda tranquila.

Y A DE VER ESTADO RE LOCA LA GUEY

ED.- Algodón humedecido con alcohol ¿???

LE.- Trabaja ¡!!!

ED .- Administrar suero ¿???

LE.- Trabaja ¡!!!

EL.- Contener hemorragia ¿???

LE.- Trabaja ¡!!!

ED.- Presión En La Herida ¿???

LE.- Trabaja ¡!!!

ED.- Se a fijado que La Niña parece que esta jugando a La Paciente ¿???

LE.- Es toda una lindura la chiquitita ¿???

ED.- Que bonita ¿???

LE. – Cuchi, cuchi, cuchi ¡!!!

ED.- Anestesia ¿???

LE.- Trabaja ¡!!!

ED.- Sutura ¿???

LE.- Trabaja ¡!!!

ED.- Sostener cabeza ¿???

LE.- Trabaja ¡!!!

ED.- Listo ¿??

LE.- Finaja trabaja ¡!!!

Y después de curarla se la llevaron a La Madre y a El Carnicero que estaban aguardando en La Sala de Espera.

ED.- Aquí esta su tesoro que mas que darnos lata nosotros se la dimos a ella, verdad que si La Señorita Lala ¿???

LE.- Trabaja ¡!!!

ED.- Y aquí esta La Receta para que le administre La Medicina a la niña, señora y de acuerdo al horario ¿???

LLM.- Gracias doctor ¿???

Y entonces El doctor Eddy le pregunto al carnicero.

ED.- Y como se lastimo La Niña ¿???

LE.- Trabaja…

ED.- no le estoy preguntando a usted enfermera sino al señor carnicero ¿???

LE.- Trabaja ¡!!!

EC.- Y accidentalmente se le cayó una cabeza de marrano en La Carnicería, pero cuanto le debo docky dock ¡!!!

ED.- Y entonces regresa por La Tarde con La Cabeza de El Marrano para hacer un buen rico Pozole, verdad La Señorita Lala ¿???

LE.- Trabaja ¡!!!

EC.- Lo hare con mucho gusto, adiós doc ¿???

ED.- Lo esperamos ¡!!!

EC .- Adiós Señorita La Lala La ¿???

Y la enfermera le contesto al carnicero con el único vocabulario que conocía y que no podía evitarlo por ninguna cosa.

LE.- Trabaja ¡!!!

Y cuando La Lydia regreso a La Casa con La Niña a La Belén casi le da un inflarto.

LBM.- Pero que le paso a La Berthinadia otra vez La Lydia ¿???

Pero antes de contestar La Mama lo hizo La Hija.

LBS.- El Magano ¿???

LBM.- Que ¿???

LLM.- Dice que se le cayo una cabeza de marrano en La Cabeza ¡!!!!

LBM.- Pero como paso ¿???

LLM.- Solo paso ¡!!!

LBM.- Como ¿???

LLM.- Cuando nos detuvimos a comprar La Carne en La Carnicería ¡!!!

Y cuando El Petronic y El Jesulove llegaron por La Noche no dejaron de sentir una molestia en contra de La Mama, pero ella que culpa tenia.

ESP.- pero que raro ¿???

EJS.- Y muy extraño ¿???

LLM.- Si yo hubiera sabido que La Niña se iba accidentar de tonta la llevo ¿???

EJS.- Y por eso digo que a mí me parece muy extraño que a las otras niñas no les sucedan esas cosas más seguido ¿???

LLM.- Ya veo ¿???

ESP.- En eso estoy totalmente de acuerdo contigo, El Jesulove ¿???

Pero entonces contestaron Los Muertos de La Dimensión Desconocida.

ECL.- Porque la traemos en chinga, verdad El Fanfita ¿???

EFF.- Y efectivamente Efectivo, El Cachita ¡!!!

ECL.- Pero porque aceptamos tan fácilmente que ese culero de El Jher Sama nos bautizara con estos pinches apodos tan culeros ¿???

EFF.- Y como este acontecimiento que le sucedimos a La Apestosa me da La Idea de que y nosotros lo apodemos El Marrano y que te parece ¿???

ECL.- Que El Rabo te crece ¿???

EFF.- Que ¿???

ECL.- Que estoy de acuerdo contigo y de aquí en adelante por siempre El Marrano será ¡!!!

EFF.- Revolvamos ¡!!!

ECL.- Tienta a La Niña pero no la toques ¡!!!

EFF.- cálmate el jorobitas

ECL.- tu solo déjate caer

EFF.- Pero entonces me atas Las Manos ¿???

ECL.- Bueno, tócala pero no la lastimes ¡!!!

EFF.- Pero así no siento bonito ¿???

ECL.- Ok, lastímala pero no la mates ¡!!!

EFF.- Pero que chiste tiene así ¿ ???

ECL.- y entonces cógetela hasta los murciegalos ¡!!!

EFF.- y como dice el san…

ECL.- y como dice

EFF.- a si si

LD.- Ja-ja-ja ¡!!!

Entonces se sentaron arriba de El Ropero para atizarle como mandan Los grandes Cánones.

ECL.- y pásaa La Coquita para los acospanes ¿???

EFF.- Solo traje Pecsi ¡!!!

ECL.- No mameyes ¿???

EFF.- Chúpate esta ¿???

ECL.- Que paso ¿???

EFF.- A La Colita de La María ¿???

ECL.- Uuuff, re uuuff y re contra uuuff, esto sabe al infierno ¿???

EFF.- Ya vaboros ¡!!!

ECL. – Pero deja echármela primero ¿???

EFF.- Aquí ¿???

ECL.- La ultima fuma dita ¿???

EFF.- Aaah ¿???

ECL.- Y pues que pensabas sonso ¿???

Y entonces este par de animales se salieron de La Casa y se alejaron muy abrazados hasta perderse por El Horizonte, pero cuando llegaron al infierno se les acerco un diabliche que ya venía muy flameado y cargado de coca y se les acerco.

EDM.- y tenía razón la biblia cuando dijo que bajarías al infierno

ECL.- Ooooooooohhh

EDM.- pero no tan drogado

ECL.- chingas a tu madre

Y cuando los cachafanes le pagaron la coca al burro, estos se alegraron.

EFF.- Eso ¡!!!

ECL.- Now you’re talking ¡!!!

EDM.- Like it ¿???

ECL.- Aaah ¿???

EFF.- y oye la jesus… a ¿???

ECL.- Diagrame licenciado ¿???

EFF.- Licenciado ¡!!!

ECL.- Gracias, muchas gracias por estarnos escuchando y oye la lucita ¿???

Y antes de irse el repartidor de los alúcienos se molestó por la forma de hablar de los dos batos cielo infernales.

EDM.- Y chale pinches putos, ahí la vemos, niñas ¡!!!

ECL.- Porque mi burrita ¿???

EDM.- y será porque tienen nombre de niñas y a mí no se me tuerce El Rabo ¿???

EFF.- y las orejas

Y entonces el diabliche mejor se alejó de ellos antes de que se le pegaran las malas mañas porque dicen que cuando se te pega por primera vez ya jamás se te quita por eso no dejen que se les acerque un mari con porque después les va a dar por mover la colita.

ECL.- a mi se me hace que a ti te gusta La Verdolaga Fanfita ¿???

EFF.- No es cierto nomas tantito ¿???

ECL.- En serie ¿???

EFF.- Si no ya me la hubiera cortado ¿???

LD.- JA, JA, JA.

EA.- y nos cortamos la ostra ¿???

EFF.- Aaah vergaaaa ¿???

ECL.- La Coquita ¡!!!

EFF.- Y sabes que estoy pensando, judas ¿???

ECL.- Que pues ¿???

EFF.- Otro nombre de vieja ¿???

ECL.- Voy a tener que revisar El Libro de Los Nombres para haber si existen los de hombres o de jodida el tumba burros ¿???

EFF.- y si no ya la chiflamos ¿???

Y entonces nosotros los dejamos con sus grandes problemas de identificación para irnos a ver como continuaba La Familia con El Accidente de La Berthinadia.

ESP.- Hay que tener más cuidado para La próxima vez ¿???

LLM.- Y que me estas insinuando que yo tuve la culpa solo pónganse a pensar que si ustedes estuvieran cuidando un bebe día y noche se les puede morir de un momento a otro porque y que tal si levanta una canica del suelo se la mete en La Boca se le atora se comienza ahogar y de que sirvió que no le quitaran un ojo de encima si en menos de un segundo se la traga.

LBM.- Es cierto ¡!!!

EJS.- Y otro punto a tu favor ¿???

ESP.- En esas ocasiones es mejor no estar en El mismo Lugar y creo que te debo una disculpa y perron ¿???

Pero era totalmente cierto porque si conociéramos El Futuro no nos pasaría absolutamente nada porque ya lo hubiéramos visto anteriormente por La Televisión.

Y así se fue pasando El Tiempo sin sentir trabajando tan duro como se pueda y para eso no había como La Familia Sanchiz muy bien encabezadas por El El Petronic.

Y un día cuando pensaron que les sobro un poco de tiempo decidieron utilizarlo visitando El Rancho de El Karparov.

LLM.- Oye, El Silverado ¿???

ESP.- Dime, Vieja ¿???

LLM.- Estaba pensando que como mañana es día de asueto fuéramos a visitar a mi comadre La Sokov ¿???

ESP.- Porque ¿???

LLM.- Solo para saludarla y que hay de malo en eso ¿???

LBM.- Yo también tengo ganas de ir, cuñado ¿???

EJS.- Y tú para que mujer ¿???

LBM.- Es que te quiero matar un par de gallinas ¿???

EJS.- y solo que en La Espalda ¿???

LBM.- No seas bromista, pero me gustaría decirle a El Señor Karparov si me las quiere dar a buen precio o vender ¿???

Y entonces al otro día por La Mañana vemos llegar a toda La Familia al grande rancho de El Karparov.

EAK.- Me da mucho gusto que vengan a visitarnos y no nada más porque sea día de trabajo o no simplemente es agradable ¿???

Y entonces El Andre y su esposa La Sokov pasaron a Los Visitantes para adentro de La Casa y después les ofrecieron su desayuno a base de sabrosas pastas y acompañado de un buen café y sus sabrosos boliquetes, pero La Lydia y La Belén no dejaron sola a La Comadre Soko.

LSM.- Comadre La Lydia, La Belén ¿???

EAK.- El Jesulove, El Petronic ¿???

ESP .- Y de repente se nos ocurrió La grandiosa Idea de conocer La Fecha de El Bautismo de La Berthinadia ¿???

EAK.- Y que no quieren fijar La Fecha ustedes ¿???

LSM.- Seria mejor para nosotros ¡!!!

Pero La Belén al ver que esto iba para largo prefirió cortar rápida mente por lo sano.

LBM.- Me permiten salirme del tema ¿???

EJS.- Es que a La belén se le metió La Idea de saber si quiere venderle un par de gallinas de campo, patrón ¿???

EAK.- No puedo ¡!!!

Y entonces toda la Familia Sanchiz se sintió bien avergonzada por que le daba La Impresión de que solo los visitaban para ver si podían sacarle algo de gollete y se pusieron rojos como unos jitomates.

LBM.- Discúlpeme ¿???

Pero cuando contesto El Señor Karparov lo hizo al estilo del petro.

EAK.- Es que no se las puedo vender ¿???

LBM.- Lo entiendo ¿??

EAK.- Porque se las voy a regalar ¡!!!

Y entonces expulsaron toda La Presión de El Aire así como lo hacen Los Vagones de El Ferro Carril y se pusieron a reír alegremente como unos chiquillos.

TODOS.- Ja-ja-ja ¡!!!

LBM.- y entonces le dije a El Jesulove que se las iba a matar…

TODOS.- Ja-ja-ja ¡!!!

EAK.- Pero no las vaya a lastimar ¿???

TODOS.- Ja-ja-ja ¡!!!

LBM.- se las matare con cuidado ¿???

TODOS.- Ja-ja-ja ¡!!!

EAK.- pero no le vayan a pisar el callo al gallo

TODOS.- Ja-ja-ja ¡!!!

Y estaban tan placenteramente platicando que no se dieron cuenta cuando La Berthinadia se les escapo de La Casa porque pensaban que estaban dormidas con las demás en la sala porque estaban muy cansadas porque las despertaron muy temprano para visitar El Rancho y se vinieron dando cuenta después de un par de horas.

LLM.- Despierten niñas que ya nos vamos ¡!!!

ESP.- Bueno compadre creo que nos vamos ¿???

LLM.- El Petronic has visto a La Berthinadia ¿???

ESP.- pues que no se quedo dormida con Las demás Niñas ¿???

Y entonces salieron corriendo como locos a buscarla por todos los lados y nada.

Y nada ¿???

Por las afueras del rancho.

Y nada ¿???

Por adentro del rancho.

Y nada ¿???

Y la fueron buscando espulgando cada centímetro de La Finca.

Y nada ¿???

Y por las orillas de las cercas que colindan el territorio del rancho.

Y nada ¿???

A las orillas de las montañas.

Y nada ¿???

Y les preguntaron a todos Los Vecinos de Los Lares.

Y nada ¿???

LHS.- No la encontramos, papa ¿???

ESP.- Me lleva El Carajo ¿???

Y entonces El Karparov volvió a mover a todos Los Peones.

Y nada ¿???

EAK.- y búsquenme a esa niña por cielo mar y tierra, pero ya ¡!!!

Y nada ¿???

ESP.- Y acompáñame El Jesulove ¿???

EJS.- Vamos ¡!!!

Y entonces en lo que se movilizaba otra vez El Petronic con El Jesulove La Soko consolaba a La Señora Lydia.

LSM.- No se preocupe comadre que ya la encontraremos ¿???

LLM.- Pero en donde se metería esta niña con toda su especialidad ¿???

Y cuando uno de Los Peones camino para El Lado Contrario de los demás descubrió algo.

EP.- Patrón, patrón ¿???

Y entonces El Karparov corrió para ver qué pasaba.

EAK.- Que pasa El Elosio ¿???

EP.- Parece que La niña se cayo en este poso, solo agáchese, ponga El Oído en El Suelo y ponga mucha atención ¿???

Y efectivamente porque cuando El Karparov se agacho para poner el oído en el suelo se oyó un pequeño ruido a razón de que pudiera ser un animal también al tener la desgracia de caer en las trampas que da la vida.

Y pero El Hoyo era muy estrecho y profundo como para intentar algo, pero El Andre ahora si pudo captar La Respiración de La Niña.

EAK.- En lo que me quedo ve a dar aviso a los demás ¡!!!

EP.- Si lo hare y rápido.

Y entonces El Peón se echo a correr como un loco para irles avisando a todos mientras que El Karparov se desesperaba.

EAK.- Y porque se tardaran tanto ¿???

Pero El Primero que llego fue El Petronic.

ESP.- Vine tan pronto como me avisaron ¿???

EAK.- Vamos a tener que sacarla rápidamente antes de que se ahogue ¿???

ESP.- Pero como le vamos hacer ¿???

Y conforme llego un peón El karparov lo regreso para que juntara a todos los demás peones y subieran todo lo necesario en La Troquita y que El Jesulove la manejara de regreso hasta en donde estaban ellos.

Y cuando todos estuvieron juntos comenzaron a dar sugestión es para ver que hacían con El Problema, pero termino El Karparov teniendo La Razón otra vez.

EAK.- Y por último, si tratamos de subirla por El mismo Hoyo, La Tierra es tan blandita que le podríamos causar un alud que la pueda tapar y ahogar al mismo tiempo ¿???

ESP.- Y entonces cual es La mejor Solución ¿???

EJS.- Pero esto ya urge ¿??

EAK.- Y vamos amarrar una llave mecánica a La Punta de un lazo para que nos sirva como el plomo y con mucho cuidado la vamos introduciendo por El Hoyo para ver cuanta profundidad tiene ¿???

ESP.- Pero sin golpear a La Niña ¡!!!

EAK.- Por supuesto que no ¡!!!

EJS.- Y después ¿???

EAK.- le hacemos un hoyo en paralelo del este pero separado como unos cinco metros y de unos tres metros de diámetro para poder desplazarnos mejor ¿???

ESP.- Y entonces manos a La Obra ¿???

Y entonces uno de Los Peones le sugirió a El Karparov que le diera La gran Oportunidad de convertirse en el héroe para intentarlo sin dejar de darle el crédito por la idea.

Y como El Moltov era un muchacho sumamente delgado venía a caer como anillo al dedo.

Y en lo que Los Peones comenzaban a escarbar El Hoyo Paralelo, El Petronic y El Karparov levantaban una pequeña torre petrolera por arriba de El Hoyo.

Y lo apremiante era que La Niña se les podía ahogar antes de escarbar a su nivel y toda esa desventaja la recuperaban porque había muchas manos para llegar lo más pronto posible.

Así es que conforme todos Los Hombres al unisonó escarbaban como maquinas toporiferas, El Moltov era amarrado de Las Patas ( los pies ) para ser bajado lentamente.

EAK.- Y toma esta lámpara para que te guíes y para cualquier emergencia nos gritas pero no muy suavemente ¿???

Y entonces en lo que El Jesulove se quedaba de base en El Hoyo Nuevo.

Y se organizaron para tener turnos de dos personas al mismo tiempo para poder escarbar de velocidad variable durante unos diez minutos constantes para hacer El Cambio al otro dueto que ya esperaba impaciente para entrar en acción pero conforme avanzaban El mula Pozo se hacía más profundo haciendo el trabajo más pesado por ir sacando La Tierra con Los Baldes.

Pero El Cambio de Los Guardias (los peones) lo hacía más llevadero porque La Ultima Pareja que escarbaba para volverlo hacer les daba un espacio de unos treinta minutos de descanso para regresar al tormento.

Y entonces El Jesulove lo iba haciendo muy bien dirigiendo La Obra Maestra con la batuta de la pala que en ocasiones también le metía para llegar más rápido al fondo.

EAK.- El Petronic, agarra con mucho cuidado a El Moltov para que lo metas al hoyo ¿???

ESP.- Listo El Moltov ¿???

EMO.- Todo Listo ¡!!!

Y entonces lo fueron bajando poco a poco no tanto para que no se lastimara si no para que no despegara La Tierra de Las Paredes.

EMO.- Despacio ¡!!!

EAK.- Que vez ¿???

EMO.- Todavía nada, pero bajen La Llave con La Cuerda para que la midan ¿???

Y así lo hicieron El Petronic y El Karparov para después confirmárselo a El Moltov.

EAK.- Siete metros ¡!!!

Pero también avanzaban muy rápido Los Trabajadores en El Hoyo Paralelo

EJS.- Siete metros ¡!!!

Y mientras que las Mujeres también estaban haciendo su partido porque repartían El Agua y Los Refrescos en cantidades industriales para todos Los Trabajadores.

EAK.- Diez metros ¡!!!

EJS.- Diez metros ¡!!!

Y después de una hora.

EAK.- Quince metros ¡!!!

EJS.- Quince metros ¡!!!

Y después de un par de horas contando la anterior.

EAK.- Veinte metros ¡!!!

EJS.- Veinte metros ¡!!!

Y de repente grito el moltov.

EMO.- Jalen para arriba ¡!!!

Y todos ya bien desilusionados estaban sacando poco a poco a El Moltov, pero lo hacían con mucho cuidado porque La peligrosa Ocasión así lo requería y no había vuelta de hoja.

Pero cuando vieron sus pies de inmediato lo agarraron con Las Manos y lo fueron sacando con mucho cuidado hasta que apareció…

TODOS.- LA NIÑA ¿???

Y la banda de música que se acercó por curiosidad al mitote comenzó a tocar La Diana una y otra vez sin cansarse como cuando El Pheriberto Sanchez metió el gol de la victoria…

Y TAN TAN TAN TAN TARA RA TAN TAN Y TAN TAN TAN TAN TARA RA TAN

Y entonces El Moltov orgullosamente le entrego a la pobre niña que iba dormida todavía en los brazos de El Karparov…

PUES QUE HUEVONA LA NIÑA QUE NO SE DA CUENTA DEL PELIGRO

Y porque no estaba lastimada la curitaya de la panti o de la tlan y porque la sacaron todavía ilesa y sin un rasguño o ustedes nunca aprenden a poner atención porque nos damos cuenta como este par de pelafustanes…

O les tengo que decir sus nombres otra vez…

QUE BRUTOS

Aaaaah, ya lo adivinaron…

Y VASHA TIPO

Y entonces la sacaron de la casa sin que nadie se diera cuenta y después se la llevaron para el pozo y la bajaron con ellos y ahí la dejaron en el fondo sin hacerle daño y todavía la mulita sin despertar.

Y entonces El Karparov se la entregó a El Jesulove y El Jesulove se la entregó a La Belén y La Belén se la entregó a El Petronic y El Petronic por último se la entregó a La Lydia.

LLM.- Mi niña ¿???

Y para todos Los Presentes era como volverse a sacar La Lotería…

OTRA VEZ

EAK.- Lo lograste condenado ¿???

Y todos cantaban de alegría y de felicidad.

EMO.- Así es patrón porque todo era cuestión de tiempo ¿???

ESP.- Y gracias a todos ¡!!!

OTRA FIESTA NAVIDEÑA

Y para tapar Los Hoyos ya fue cosa de niños y cuando terminaron se fueron para El Rancho, pero esta vez evitaron La Fiesta para no tentar a La mala Suerte otra vez o serian...

LOS CHAMUCOS

Pero La mala Suerte no necesita de una invitación para intervenir porque después de un par de meses cuando todos Los Familiares y vecinos se encontraban reunidos en El Rancho…

De pronto apareció La Compañía Tragen una vez más para atacarlos nueva mente, pero esta vez ya venía bien reforzada con ex soldados extras de manicomio.

Y entonces todos Los Rancheros volvieron a tomar su posición mientras que las Mujeres se metían a La Casa para sacar más armas y ayudar a sus juanes como buenas soldadoras.

Y La Batalla se fue alargando cada vez mas porque parecía que Los Granjeros ya les tenían bien tomada La Medida pero no dejaba de ser engañoso, ahí estaban luchando heroicamente sin ser de la milicia pero bravos como el chile te sientas.

Y entonces la metralla enemiga fue derrumbando Los Establos y Las Bodegas porque eran las construcciones más débiles o mejor dicho no se construyeron para soportar ese tipo de bólidos y toda La Casa estaba siendo perforada como una verdadera coladera.

Pero de pronto llego El Momento de La Verdad como se lo dijo el Jack y otra vez cuando Los Soldados Alemanes se estaban quedando sin municiones se retiraron antes de ser vencidos.

Y entonces rápidamente El Petronic corrió velozmente para La Casa para ver cómo estaban las niñas y después de un silencio expectativo salió con la hermosa de La Berthinadia entre Los Brazos.

Pero ya La Niña estaba Muerta porque una bala perdida le había atravesado El Corazón.

Y entonces El Petronic cargando a La Niña voltio tristemente para arriba llorando para darle gracias al creador por sus grandes bendiciones…

Y QUE CHINGUE A SU MADRE EL PUTO POR TRAIDOR

Y mientras que desconsoladamente la cargaba otra niña pequeña que no se supo de donde vino y tampoco encontraba a su madre lo estaba jalando del pantalón para que le agarrara su linda mano chiquita.

FIN

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