6. Kneel and deliver – Ajoelhe e entregue

Kneel and deliver – Ajoelhe e entregue

The sun was not long from bidding a bright and cheerful bom dia to all and sundry from behind crystalline clear skies as Robin bade farewell to his buddies and bought an icy cold latão for the road; his mood, even discounting what he’d consumed, was, as always, upbeat and positive.  His digs were only about a kilometre distant as the crow flies, however, the road didn’t go as the crow flies, choosing to take an inconvenient 90° left hand turn instead, but a huge public park did lead to his street if he dared to cross it. Robin had heard umpteen stories about this park – how the denizens in the hours of darkness comprised every known degenerate from crack-head thieves to transvestite whores and everything in between and how it’s simply too violent and dangerous to enter at night. It had never once occurred to him to question what the advice would be were he to actually wish to engage the services of one of the professional shemales; something completely unlikely, but, as always, he always liked to ponder the impossible.

Since Robin had first arrived in the south of the country, so many people had warned him of the violence inherent in Brazil, but he had just failed to see it. In the first 12 months he’d seen what he considered violence on no more than three occasions: a drunken fight on the street, with one of the combatants at the suffering end of what appeared to be several very experienced and painful capoeira kicks to the head, a cock strut between two testosterone filled drunken teenagers that devolved into a pushing match and ended up with a handbags at 6 paces finale, and one lone cop with an over sized baton beating the crap out of some young teenager, with the lad obviously deserving it for looking at the cop in a funny way or for wearing hip-hop style clothing in a built up area after the hours of darkness.

It was only a long way into his second 12 months that Robin realised that violence had a somewhat different meaning in Brazil than he was used to and could even include raising your voice when your spouse irritates you yet again and thoroughly deserves learning the errors of her ways.

Robin eyed the corner of the park he would have to traverse and calculated how much time he would save as opposed to the general wear and tear on his bones, muscles, energy level and his very real desire to get home as soon as he could against the perceived risk of crossing the corner of this park in the madrugada. Perhaps the dozen or so beers he had recently imbibed aided his cavalier decision as his long legs, without a seemingly second thought, strode easily over the short log fence that marked the periphery of the park.

As the fingers of the tree’s shadows within the wooded park enveloped him, Robin was suddenly approached by an obscure figure that separated itself from the gloom of the nearby sparse,  but densely canopied patch of trees.

Me dá cigarro – Give me a cigarette, – the shape that materialised, who was average height for a dwarf, roughly rasped at him, hand outstretched ready  to receive his early morning bounty.

Não tenho – I don’t have any, – Robin replied shrugging his shoulders apologetically and casually sliding his right hand over the top of his trousers to cover the lie of his words visible in the front right pocket of his jeans.

Então, me dá grana – So, give me cash – the somewhat diminutive dwarf demanded menacingly, however Robin felt totally unmenaced; how could that little shrimp possibly expect him to be scared by these theatrics?

Robin, in spite of recently imbibing copious quantities of a refreshing but average local brew and still with cold can of beer in hand, gave quite a considered response under the circumstances.

Na verdade, se não importa, eu preferia que vai tomar no cu – Actually, if you don’t mind, I would prefer that you go fuck yourself – Robin always liked to be polite with strangers.

The look that passed over the dwarf’s face clearly indicated that he had not expected this cara not to be scared of him and a grunt of disappointment and anger was thus spat between his less than perfect teeth. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, the enraged torinho – little bull – charged Robin, his little legs pumping like mini pistons, finishing  this intended show of determination and power by launching one stumpy leg In Robin’s direction. He succeeded in missing Robin’s leg completely, but his pride was left somewhat intact as he just managed to graze a trouser leg with a once white tiny tennis shoe that surely had a partner somewhere, somewhen, but was now paired with a tan leather children’s shoe on his other foot.

Robin could not help but picture the Rumplestiltskin story from his childhood and roared with laughter at the comparison. His unmerited and most certainly unwarranted response to the situation only seemed to infuriate the angry annoying anão further who reacted by charging him yet again. Robin secured his dewy half-full can of beer in his left hand and the forehead of the furious little furacãozinho – little hurricane – safely within the palm of his right hand, an action which, for some inexplicable reason, only seemed to infuriate the vertically challenged erstwhile bandit even more. The angry little man tried to continue his charge, but was forced to mime the action instead of actually succeeding in carrying it out under Robin’s forceful touch. He tried lashing out with his bite-sized hands, but they had no chance of connecting with Robin’s body, which still stood an unreachable but tantalising distance in front of him.

Realising that he’d have more success going backwards than forwards, the wee little man did just that and warily skirted Robin, one eye trained upon him always.

Eu vou te atirar, filho de puta – I’m going to shoot you, mother fucker! he barked like a threatening chihuahua.

This only added to Robin’s mirth as he reasoned “If he had a gun, why wasn’t it already pointed at me?”and again guffawed into the coal black night, remembering that this was the second time in his life that he had been threatened by a nonexistent gun and, coincidentally or not, the would be robber was again less than average height, even for a Brazilian! .

E vou, serío. Eu tenho arma em baixa daquela rocha – I will, seriously. I have a gun under that rock, the dwarf ranted,crouched over mimicking the action of snatching it up from under the rock and shooting him as if  he were playing the part of Golem in Lord of the Rings.

This ridiculous Rumplestilstkinish pantomime was more than Robin could bear and flood waters of gut wrenching laughter gushed forth from his belly and tears flowed in torrents down his cheeks in concert; he could do naught else but shake his head in bemusement at the bizarreness of the ritual he had been participating in, turned and, with a broad beaming smile on his face, headed homeward bound; his early morning laughter wafting on the cool early morning breeze behind him, burning the ears of the failed midget robber, further reinforcing  why he hated his life.

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