This is the second tale I post my own on LJ (the first was this, although not configured as a story itself, although the literary text). From now on, I'll post all my stories and literary production in general, both stored - no wonder they changed the title to "The Drawer (...)" - as the writings hereafter, this LJ, and there will also be space for some of my academic texts.
This story was born of an imaginative flight, nothing cute, my sister ten years: the story of a girl who loses her finger during a ballet class, whose teacher is an insensitive which is not moved even before the blood squirts of the severed limb extension . I chose to leave the text means that even in its raw state, without much cutting, but trying to reproduce as faithfully as possible to speak with authenticity. And as I understood the argument, the tale is of a slightly surreal tone.
Tale:
- Here is the hand of my daughter. The finger that she lost here! And senhora simplesmente não fez nada, nenhum curativo, não chamou o médico, nada. NA-DA!
- Não tenho culpa se sua filha é uma idiota. Ela errou o passo do pingüim e deu nisso.
- Minha filha perde um dedo e é essa a explicação que tenho de sua boca?! Isso lá é justificativa para não cuidar de uma criança, da MINHA FILHA! E eu pago essa droga de aulas de balé, portanto exijo respeito e zelo pela minha filha. Coitadinha, tão novinha e perdeu um dedo! E se atrever a chamá-la a fool in front of me, is a good reason for me to jump out right now, right?
- So what? I'm paid to teach ballet classes to my students, not to the wound healing them, nor try to stick your toes to your feet back home.
- His callous!
- I'm not paid to be sensitive, I get paid to be a teacher.
- Bela teacher you are! What a rotten, so inhuman concept of pedagogy is that you have a north to their classes?
- Pedagogy?! Who spoke of pedagogy here? I'm talking about teaching, do my job competently, and be paid for it. And hopeless cases, untalented or problematic, they are not my specialty. Call a psychologist or therapist for your daughter, and be happy.
- Ever heard of second chance? She dreams of becoming a ballerina ... And well they might have tried to paste the thumb of my daughter would not leave such an expensive repair, and I would pay.
- We do not have appropriate glues for such repairs doctors here. And at this point in the championship, not even sure I could tie that finger back.
- My God! My daughter is only ten years and no longer a finger! And it is still dripping blood, look!
- will stain the carpet of my room, which sucks! Do not know how her daughter has not died hemoragia!
- It's the finger that's bleeding, not my daughter! Thank God, the blood of her wound has stopped. Wow, must have gushed about two liters of blood that finger only.
- Loss of fingers always get this whole mess.
- His monster, only cares about your carpet! Wow, is it possible to find a finger remaining for a transplant at the hospital?
- Who knows? Perhaps you luck; can run and get some left thumb. Where there are remains of corpses there.
- That's what I will do. But come back, I want to talk to the officer or director of that damn school, complain of indifferent and insensitive behavior before the accident my girl.
- Talking beautiful?! Ridiculous, this does not impress me. And I'm the director of the ballet school.
From: 07/05/2010
