dimecres, 30 d’abril de 2008

En Boi, el Tòxic noi


Aquells que el coneixem - els seus amics- li diem Boi. Els altres el coneixen pel Tòxic Noi.
Li encanta l'amoníac i l'asbest i el fum espès de cigarreta. El que ell respira com l'aire ofegaria a una mofeta!
La joguina que més li agrada és un potet d'aerosol; s'asseu a terra i el xarbota i espraia a tort i a dret tot sol.
Sol fer guàrdia al garatge en el fred del matí, tot esperant que el cotxe l'empudegui amb el seu verí.
El primer i únic cop que he vist en Boi plorar és perquè un gra de clorur sòdic li ha entrat al ull sense trucar.
Un bon dia per ventilar-lo el treuen al jardí. I el rostre se li torna pàl.lid i el cos comença a enrigidir.
L'últim alè del seu trist viure és tristament grotesc. Qui hauria dit que algú es pogués morir de respirar aire fresc?
Quan l'ànima abandona el cos tots li resem una oració. I ella s'eleva cap al cel deixant un trau a la capa d'ozó.
Tim Burton - La Trista mort del noi Ostra
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To those who knew him -his friends- we called him Roy. To others he was known as that horrible Toxic Boy.
He loved ammonia and asbestos, and lots of cigarrette smoke. What he breathed in for air, would make most people choke!
His very favourite toy was a can of aerosol spray; he'd sit quietly and shake it, and spray it all the day.
He'd stand inside the garage in the early-morning frost, waiting for the car to start and fill him exhaust.
The one that only time I ever saw Toxic Boy cry was when some sodium chloride got into his eye.
One day for fresh air they put him in the garden. His face went deathly pale and his body began to harden.
The final gasp of his short life was sickly with despair. Whoever thought that you could die from breathing outdoor air?
As Roy's soul left his body we all said a silent prayer. It drifted up to heaven and left a hole in the ozone layer.
From Tim Burton's The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy and other stories