DON'T SCRATCH ME / Jq. Ruiz Millet

Don't scratch me in AMAZON

Teachers::

The situation became very violent. Pati had already threatened me at the end of the class, warning me that if I dared to do a part of them I was lost. Within a week everything had become complicated. They asked me, casually, out of human curiosity, how many children I had; Then they told me to go looking for another job, that I was going to be unemployed. They gave me a choice: to confess. What to confess? ... what.

"Smoking in class"

Robberies::

Pull down! She told him.

We moved to the escalators, we took him between the two of us and sat with him to wait for the convoy to pass and the platform to be emptied. Then we get right behind the cameras:

-Fast! The jacket!

He took it from her, we went back to the bank and gave him back what was in his pockets: a subway card, some papers, two thousand pelas and some gloves. And we stayed talking for a while.

What the fuck.

-You see!

-Do not say anything. But nothing to anyone!

Don't take it from me, please, it's from my sister.

If you want to go looking for her, go to San Roque, which is a very sketchy neighborhood.

We got on the next subway and left it lying there.

"The first Alpha"

Spiritism::

Hey, is this Ouija board okay? —A paper with a many-pointed star and numbers around it.

-Why do you want to know?

-Because my sister, the eleven-year-old -says Dicktease, or Lorena, at patio time- has been doing it for a month and I want to know if she is in danger with this board, because she seems very strange to me.

-That's wrong.

And I made him ours, not without warning him that all spiritism is bad.

"Spiritism"

Look for life::

The following week they summon me on Avenida Primavera street, which is further away than his fucking mother. More than three quarters of an hour walking. I am asking about the workshop school because I am not clear. I go straight in because it's eleven o'clock and it's time. I search among the pavilions: the Waiters Pavilion, another Construction Pavilion, until finally I find the Painters Pavilion. The Information lady sends me up. They are already doing the test. On the table there is a double-sheet folder where they ask you for your personal information, why do you want to do a workshop school, why that trade ... for that you have a quarter of an hour. And then the sheet that "kills the cat", the one for the psychotechnical test, which is a series of dominoes that eats your head a lot and you end up seeing tiles everywhere.

"Look fot life"