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Because his arm can bear the cross - The Armageddon Factor

In December 1866, when they were in London to negotiate the Act of British North America, John A. MacDonald and his revelers looking how to define what would be one of the greatest achievements of humanity (as Dion): Canada. The Premier of New Brunswick, a lovely devotee, found the solution in the Psalms (72, verse 8): "He Shall Have Dominion aussi from sea to sea and from the River To The Ends of the Earth . Thus, with this divine intervention, our country is a Dominion and its Latin motto, A mari usque ad pond.

Today, on the eve of the end of the world, various religious organizations in Canada, under the watchful eye of their U.S. counterparts, contribute to the accomplishment Psalm - because they believe our dominion will have a role to play in the Battle of Armageddon - and work to re-Christianize Canada, with the goal of becoming a theocracy. Therefore these Christian nationalists, mainly through the Conservative Party, to interfere in the political sphere to ensure that laws, regulations and programs better reflect their values and that our country fulfills its destiny.

Vigorously criticized, especially by right-wing media, The Armageddon Factor (Toronto, Random House Canada, 2010), journalist Marci McDonald, nevertheless has a large quality for the readers of the other solitude, that is to say, shed light on the rise of the religious right, the theocons in the ROC. The impact of these groups and these churches, whose numerous and frequent contacts with members of government and senior officials would drool journalists covering Parliament Hill is clearly visible: for example, the refusal of the Conservatives to fund birth control, budget cuts among agencies whose mission away from conservative values, etc.. Moreover, with rising stars such as Stockwell Day (President of the Treasury Board), which does not believe in evolution, and Jason Kenney (Minister of Citizenship, Immigration and Multiculturalism), which removed the passage on gay rights in the guide for immigrants, it is clear that the Conservative Party takes a tangent which inevitably leads to a morality where obscurantism of some thing and becomes the law of all. Canada is on track to find its own Great Darkness.

Little Reading
Danic and Ian Parenteau Parenteau political ideologies. The left-right divide , Montreal, Presses de l'Université du Québec, 2008.

We all ask the question: Richard Martineau is it right or left? It was a trick question: it occurs in a parallel universe dominated by confusion, the confusion and hysteria. But we, poor humans, which side do we look? In their book, the brothers Parenteau débroussaillent the concept of political ideology and clarify its different variants: the liberal center and the socialist left, communism and anarchism on the extreme left, conservatism and libertarianism on the right; Fascism on the extreme right, and finally nationalism and environmentalism to suit all colors. The perfect book to explain to your cousin Teabagger that Obama can not be both communist and fascist.

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45. Roger says farewell

"You are afraid failures with philosophy "

Xavier said that this result this proves that this magazine is a huge foutage of mouth, and I'd better stop there. But a new test "What really motivates you?" Catches my eye, and despite myself I'm back to frantically check boxes.

I spent a good part of the morning on the charge of the summer is a few years, and now I know my color is green, I need to improve my emotional intelligence, and I am a buyer compulsive disorder.

I rub my beard under the critical eye of Xavier. He asked me if there is not a test entitled "Do you know you regain control, "and I avoid replying he was right, but it's a test I will not.

After discovering that I am motivated by the need for security, I put the magazine and offers Xavier a small workout outside. We go out into the garden, and I do note that the garden looks better every time I see it. After getting fitted with iron bars, my friend forces me to make a kind of ritual hello I never understood it was his invention or traditional.

-En garde!

-If you say so.

He attacks from the very Initially, probably to make me go into the fight faster. I repel several attacks calmly, and he decided to accelerate the pace. We weapons colliding in a clang, but I do not give ground.

Xavier prepares his departure and wants to complete my training, I know. I attempted a feint from the side, he pushes the last minute with an oath amused. He twirls his iron bar over his head and killed him in my direction. I parry the blow and the shock makes me shiver to the shoulders.

I push a kick to regain my senses. It moves to the side and tries to touch me in the ribs, but I ducked backwards. It reminds me not to walk on the garden.

"You are a combative nature"

This time it's me attacking hard. I go into a war frenzy, the cornering for not giving him time to develop strategy. In an effort idiot, he tries to put a frontal attack, with one hand and grab his iron bar, while the other I hit him in the face with mine.

sound hollow and dull sounding, and Xavier screams hate. It tears me his weapon, and I mowed the legs to make me fall. My back has just hit the floor, and I just long to see the foot of my Coach fall on my chest.

It is as if the air was expelled from my lungs, and with him a few vital organs. I have a few seconds unable to breathe, with blurred vision Xavier looked at me, a purple bruise swelling visibly at the cheekbone.

He smiled at me when I resume breathing with difficulty, and explain that we probably never fight over. But I know he is afraid now that he understood that I could fight back.

vision still blurred, I see my friend's face warp, make outlandish colors and shapes, until I reveal his true nature. Her skin is translucent, to reveal a skull-white makes me shudder. Its jaws begin to move and emit sounds that resemble plaintive groans, the cries of crows. Then they become words, and I need a few seconds to get to integrate what the skeleton just told me:

-It's done. Now we need to talk to Roger's death.

Just returned from the discussion that I just had, I left my mother's house, thinking to go for a stroll, why not even go visit my father. In the alley I crossed my little sister chasing a cat in the caller with a soft voice. I asked him if it's for eating.

-You 're too dumb, "she replies.

I push through the suburban houses that look alike but I know by heart. Without cars, the district looks even more deserted than usual. In truth I seek someone who is slow to arrive.

"You do not wait too long"

Down the street, two kids are trying to trade a barrel of weedkiller. As I approached them, they lower their voices without losing their ride. When I ask them what they build, one of them, the eldest, cowardly "bomb" without looking up at me.

A kind of yeti wearing an old coat out of a garden hedge, uttering a guttural roar. It darkens the two kids who run away by calling for help. He spits on the ground, his nose in his fingers and growls a sentence incomprehensible. His beard and long hair are strewn with twigs and grease.

-Roger, I say ...

For answer, he groans rumbling in, realizing that the bomb is heavier as he imagined. He throws the can over his head and shouted that he is quite to fart.

-You came to tell me that you turn in your time, "I said calmly.

Not at all.

"I understand you.

-I t'exploser mouth, you and your world of shit. He

fly again in his fingers. His gaze is loaded with a crazy little town, but I do not really care. Small blue flashes start to surround him, and we talk about these future times when everything goes wrong.

Roger remark also heralds the arcing. He begins to cry softly, drooling and stamping. He throws the barrel of weedkiller on the ground in a last desperate effort hoping no doubt that it explodes.

-Bye Roger. You've made the right decision.

-I have not decided, "he sobbed. You understand that if you do nothing it is others who will win ...

-Who?

Electricity starts to crackle around him like a rattle. He seems to think his answer, but quickly left to settle for "leftists.". My mind goes in all directions, whereas Roger is caught up in his own time. A vortex covers, suction power with him, and all the lamps of the street, yet extinct, explode. The vortex is contracting in on itself and suddenly there's nothing and nobody.

"You have trouble accepting reality"

Definitely one of the biggest assholes I ever met. I pick up a can of weed killer, not the kids just look it up. I dropped a few hundred yards away, in the garden of a house that I know abandoned. And oddly, relieving me of the bomb, I feel lighter for real.

I walk up to my father while floating on the sidewalks, and in the garden as usual, busy fussing on his barbeque. I asked him what he is up and speak at a glance.

-A cat that I found myself whispering there. Not say to your brother.

Upon my return home is asleep. Vincent is sleeping on the couch in front of a DVD menu that runs in a loop, and growls when I turn off the TV, saying he wants to watch the end of his film, before returning to sleep too dry.

I climb the stairs to my room and my bed is on the magazine of psychological tests. I'm doing some new things for me, ranging from "Are you a real nice 'to' Are you stressed at work? ".

Then the magazine in hand, I go quietly to the bedroom Xavier. It has loud snoring and I always see his skull through the skin of his face. Apart from the irritating noise it produces, my friend has all of a corpse.

Slowly, I approach my magazine of his mouth and begins to make back and come towards me his face stalling on his breath. I remain motionless, moving only the hand for a good twenty minutes.

"You are not one-tenth of what you would be"

It makes decisions, that's all what we do. Me anyway. And when I remove the magazine, it's like I die a little.

Note: Watch out for new readers

Soon: Vincent impatient

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44. Vincent does not play by the rules

-Admit that you dream of killing him.

"It's not the point.

I tote my hands in my pockets and not hastily, trying to outrun Vincent. But it does not seem bothered at all by this sudden acceleration, and I continued calmly with a smile What the little devils perched on your shoulder in cartoons.

-You 've already tried to kill me, "he recalls.

The country road thunders with the oath that I shoot. It ricochets off the apple trees and missing the first target. The mustachioed, sly, wonder why Xavier should die. Clenched jaw, I give it a shot in the shoulder, holding me to aim higher.

Xavier must die since the beginning, I say. It's just that it was so obvious that we had not seen. He knows it too. It cleans up before leaving.

Vincent goes after kilometer to cum in my mouth. This mare behind me pretending to choke or shoot himself in the head. I pretend not to see him, until he gets tired of itself, but is not counting on its exceptional toughness.

Exceeding the limits of endurance, it even comes to inventing a song he called "Life is not metaphysical." each chorus he takes his voice in the depths, with a swing of jazz:

"Life is not metaphysical

As one of your novels rotten

There no logical sequences

Your certainties I vomited "

Vincent does not see the signs. The only one who sees them, is Xavier, and Xavier does not admit to himself that he will die.

The weather is cloudy, and gray just agree with the landscape that we are experiencing. The air becomes stifling humidity. The damaged asphalt cracks almost under our feet while we sink further into the deserted pastures and fallow fields.

"But what is this place? Vincent crisis, visibly uncomfortable.

"It is you who asked me to take you.

"I would never have found alone, everything looks like shit in your area!

"It's just that you're not attentive enough.

A warm rain and broadcasts began to fall shyly. She is fine and insidious, and we quench that we do not realize it. The mustachioed wonder if we are still far, while I forks on a dirt road.

-

few miles, I said.

He grins looking at his white shoes polished, already dotted with sprigs of herbs. Then he scans the road ahead is going to lose between fields, the rain is already changing in mud.

"It is I who will die," he sighs.

Fernandel me This Goku, a man of thirty years in the beard trimmed, wearing a baseball cap. Then he introduces me to Hannibal, a big farmer in his forties. I asked him if he chose his name to Hannibal the Carthaginian. Rather

-for Hannibal Lecter, he replied very seriously.

Fernandel, retired farmer, I pointed to the people already seated around a table, advising me not to bother because they focus: Nixon and Ragnarök.

I part company at the householder, and took refuge with Vincent. I would confess that I had not imagined it like that.

What, then? he replies with a sneer.

-What 's your nickname for you?

He squints, and pulls me to the ear to bring it near his mouth. He whispers, "He that we should not pronounce the name" as a confidence-fly. I asked him if he speaks of the Lord, and he sticks a slap behind the head.

-Voldemort, pauvre con ... Everything that irritates me

a bit. Nicknames say nothing, and people seem too serious. The small group moved to the table on which were already seated Nixon and Ragnarok, and begins to talk business. Fernandel latest offers low to start, and bet five pounds of carrots. Nixon involves potatoes and corn, followed by Ragnarok. Hannibal offers a few liters of gasoline.

Vincent cut the floor to Goku and unpacks his bag a small collection of video games. It is hard to argue to prove her worth as much as five pounds of carrots.

The cranky, I decided to let them play and go for a walk outside. Vincent agreed, adding in the wings it's better for morale when I'm not around. I wish him the finger without looking back.

Outside air is still stifling humidity. The farmyard Fernandel is much less well maintained than her garden. Here and there sundry objects piled in the grip of rust or mildew. I type in a burst balloon, which makes me even more pleased to beat up a few meters.

Through the window I see Vincent, who distributes playing cards, affecting an air of seriousness. He looks at his, and then asks Nixon to start playing. I suddenly realize that people around the table does not know the rules.

I walk around a hedge that grows poorly maintained to the devil to get a better view than a farmyard. Fallow fields stretching out of sight by wearing the gray. In places small vegetable crops emerge fleetingly. A silhouette stands on a dirt road, left and curled.

I think initially to deal with an old lady, and am going to meet her to help him walk. Very quickly I noticed that the figure is male, and I understand that is immediately in front of me. He lost weight and seemed to bend under the weight of an invisible force.

-What 's happened to you, Roger?

He looks up at me with red eyes and half-closed, and spits on the ground with violence. He made an effort to right before I meet a haughty air, "Your fucking time. That's what happened. "

I see. The days we live are not made for people who know better. I calmly asked him where did he was wrong.

-From one end to another, "he replies. I wanted to improve the future and finally I realize that it was not so bad. But now! You you could, I dunno ...

"It is finished, Roger, you have to go away. Your future is too vast for me to take the problems overnight.

I swear ready to bite me. He rolls up his lip top, leaving me see yellow teeth and grows a kind of hissing cat. I feel that literally rots there. Like a hunted animal, he cautiously approached me as if I was a predator that was endangering her children.

I remove a shoe and brandished it and asked him one last time to leave. As he walks toward me, I find myself compelled to throw my shot, he gets on the corner of the face. He moaned, and picked up the shoe, ready to send it to me, but changed his mind when I threatened him with a bestial roar.

Without asking his rest, he fled on the dirt road, limping, so Court of Miracles. I look away and turn back once he got out of my field of vision, with the certainty of having progressed in a way.

As we arrive in my neighborhood, Vincent asks if I want it to carry my bag of potatoes. Surprised by his kindness, I find myself thinking that he also matures. But the reason is quite different.

-Like that your mother and your sisters believe that I have all worn alone since the beginning, "he explains.

I threw him a startled look that makes him laugh. Without thinking, I give him my bag of groceries, it empties into hers. Slouching under the weight of its load, then he drags feet and just stay at my height. And yet I'm missing one shoe.

Vincent also progressing in one direction. Formerly he would have asked my bag for the final meters.

-cake, he whispered.

-You talk of your poker game?

-It too. You

-invented rules?

-I enhances the game

We turn and leading us to a crossroads in my street. The rain stopped long ago, and the air is a bit more breathable. Upon entering my yard, we find Xavier is busy what looks like an exercise in tai chi. Seeing the bag full of Vincent, he asked if he had won at the fair. The mustachioed turned toward me, seeking support, and I confirm that the party took place in the rules.

Vincent puts his load, and wipes his brow with the back of neck. He told Xavier that I think he will die. My two friends in a crazy laughter. I grabbed a carrot and put myself to snack while watching my feet.

"It's the high life, claims Xavier two poufs.

And I have no idea what he means by that.

Notes: Roger caricature

-Develop the song

Soon: Roger says farewell

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43. Xavier is nothing without me

-Defend yourself!

I get the first volume of Lord of the Rings full face, an edition with leather cover. I look up to see Xavier, who has already armed with volumes two and three. I take refuge under my sheets to better collect the following projectiles that come bouncing on my neck.

Stand-Up, and defend yourself! Xavier roars.

I suddenly reverses the sheets, and sit up in bed with a book in each hand. My eyes are still sleepy, and if we add to this my legendary address, I have no chance against the other asshole.

Placed next to my library, he catches several books to the chain and spear me with a rapidity that took me by surprise. I avoid The kingdom of orcs and The enchanting but Encyclopaedia dragons hit me full in pear, and it is the biggest shot. I ask Xavier making efforts not to cry if he has nothing else to fuck.

-You 're soft, "he says to me throwing a plastic shield that was lying on the floor.

I picked up the toy and goes to my arms, step cautiously towards Xavier. He grabs some books for me to throw them, but I deviates to blows with shields, and he is forced to retreat a bit, ending up at the bottom of my room, where lie the remains of my collection of comics .

He caught one and shake my head to him that is a very bad idea. He brandished it with a look of defiance, while I approached him on tiptoe.

"It is a collector's edition," I said without opening his mouth.

I do not know if it really knows what he does, or if an idea of the value of the object he had in his hands, but it is certain that he throws in my direction. Comics through the air and touches my face, to go eventually flatten against the wall.

Without thinking, I rush over Xavier with the intention to pull her eyes. We entrechoquons with a thud for knocking against the wall. Xavier, sounded a bit, nevertheless manages to catch me head under his arm, and at the same time open the window. By the time I released it already driven me outside.

I ride on the grass and get up immediately. My friend has already joined, and wonder why I do not defend myself. For answer, I break a branch of fine cherry for my mother, and prunes in a hurry to make me a stick, I waved, trying to look menacing.

-Don 't call it "defend itself"? he scoffs.

-shit But finally, what is your problem with that?

As fast as a ninja, he released his nunchaku craft the back pocket of his shorts and begins to make twirl. I see right away that it has made further progress in the use of this weapon strange.

He comes to me, passing his arm under a curse, on the other ... It strikes like lightning and I deflects his shot with my stick. He attacks again, and I let out a shriek in the countering again. I already dripping with sweat and my arms seem to have doubled in size as they are incurred.

Xavier does not release the pressure and still trying several breakthroughs. But I will not bend back, countering his hands trembling nunchakus piping. But if I spend my time I'm done for cash.

I readjusted my hands on the stick. I breathe deeply, and twirls my gun to my assailant, piercing his defense. I get to touch the chin Xavier, and he froze for a moment with an air of surprise. Then he smiles, and goes on the attack.

We fight like knights, citing forces beyond ourselves. We appropriate the entire garden as an arena, taking great care not to walk in the garden vegetables. Everything blurs

: The sound of wood that splits the air, why and how, collectors editions ... I defend myself and it makes me very mad. I only takes a few minutes to stop shaking and get into the heart of the matter, which takes me forever usual.

We will not sit back any more. It is up to his neck in the battle, and I only just beginning to understand that I will continue to defend myself in whatever the outcome.

My sisters enter the garden, book in hand, undoubtedly interested in hammocks bathed by the shadow of the cherry. It marks a pause, weighing the situation with a grimace, as if they were attending a battle of retarded. But soon they take the game and began to encourage us. I have difficulty in finding that there is no doubt that Xavier will win it.

is the oldest history of the world and everything always comes back to that. Those who think themselves too intelligent to defend themselves eventually be demolished. I think that is what Xavier is trying to make myself understood. But after all he may just want to get hammered.

-Who 's your literary agent, bitch? I shouted it.

-If you were really my literary agent I'd have committed suicide long ago.

verbal jousting for the concentration. I attempted a shot in the stomach that dodge backwards. The youngest of my sisters treated us to a fag.

The morning heat fast approaching, unless this is the year we put in swimming. We continue to attack relentlessly, however, facing more than we think. We quickly find dripping and stinking.

Soon we stopped, breathless. We throw our arms, and my sister most will settle in a hammock, a little disappointed.

Vincent said he had to ration water for showers, we launch "she mockingly.

I lie in the grass and Xavier stands, folded in half. He watched me dying with a look I do not know him.

Thou hast forbidden, "he gasps.

"It is the first day. Wait to see more.

-The first day is the easiest.

Vincent, awakened by heat or by our cries, joins us in the garden. It plague on the lack of cigarettes, unaware that I decided to try again to stop smoking. Xavier said nothing, but displays a satisfied smile between coughs.

"I'll go for a jog, telling us there.

That's not true strength. In any case it's not mine. I shall prevent my life not to go to balls with pulls or abs. I'm lying on the floor in a mess, but the writer-warrior is with me.

is repetitive. He did not have much imagination, then he just doing the same thing. He defends himself tirelessly, and often it is demolished. He is dressed wounds and he returns fire. End of story.

In truth there is no scheme or vicissitudes which take in real life. It attacks on the chin all the time, but if one is hard and also avoid being killed, we end one day by making one or two shots.

Xavier understood. He looked at me both sad and proud, asking me where I put my shorts fag. I understood everything. So I realized that I wanted to cry. My friend advised me to continue train and out of the garden. Vincent

wonder why I look weird, and I ordered him to accompany Xavier in his jogging. He grumbles and asks me if I farted a cable, until I scream above him.

But why the fuck?

-Accompany it, that's all!

"I am in the kitchen if you look for me and you're calm.

He leaves me alone with my sisters, that they either do not understand my behavior. I want to bury my head in the grass, dig a wormhole to escape without being seen or followed.

Turning my head I see Xavier go behind the hedge Garden, trotting in his shorts fag. He rushes into the alley and loses itself in the thick jungle of suburban houses. He is caught in the subdivision, and will run in closed circuit, without being able to do anything other than returning to the starting point.

My friend is going to die soon.

Note: The branches of the cherry is your mother sticks to zero

Soon: Vincent does not play by the rules

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42. God joined the strike

A "Whore" unintentional escapes me while I slip on a little pile of seaweed and I picked up on the sand. I let my shoes and my shirt that I held in my hand, trying to catch me. I catch up to what?

The tiny rock particles are sticking to my skin. The sky is so blue and it gives me huge headaches.

I get up and try to remove myself from the sand that covers the side of my body but my hands are still sweating over my back, and does not indicate a high efficiency. I decided to give up and continue my path on the beach.

The beach is heavy and hot. Dry algae the sun until it becomes brittle and landcraft avoid facing the furnace today. My region of birth is not big enough to support such a heat wave. She loves the gusts, the half-tones, the green of the sea ..

I ride on the dunes where the sand under your feet warm. There is not the slightest breath of wind to shiver the tall grass. I sit and observe a few minutes the tide rise.

These are not shells that will revolt. They are not killing each other seagulls. I love days at the beach because they are simply days on the beach. I

turns me a cigarette, and I realized with amusement that I felt like a vacation. The calm of the eddy and the yoke of heaven lead me astray, and make me forget the world with fire and blood that I went through before coming to shore.

The ferries to England gone, and paradoxically they never seemed so unnecessary. If I really want to leave France, I can even do it by swimming. I withdraw my remaining clothes, and savor a few moments the air on my skin and feel the beach is mine. I hits the dunes, running like a child, shouting insults towards all that is behind me. I encountered almost

water. It is cold and combative, but I steeled myself and passes over some waves. Very quickly I lose the foot. I began to swim slowly, saying that the journey might be long and that I could repeat my English to deal with.

You will not really do it, you know.

I start to float, and let the waves take on me back safely. After all I've traveled a few tens of meters before realizing that I really do not know what I want.

A new tattoo, of course. The end of the reign of evil and the beginning of a new collection of comics. Perhaps the return of Martine.

Once I found the foot, I can not wait to go take refuge in the dunes. The air is so hot that I almost instantly dry. Next to my clothes waiting for me an old acquaintance.

hard to miss someone who is more than a hundred yards. Even if he sits cross-legged, bearded giant is overshadowing to the sea When he sees me smiling back at him, God takes a biblical air which he has the secret

Miserable mortal he exclaims, how dare you disturb my peace?

"I was there before.

I think if I was not naked, he took me to send me off. But modesty prevents it probably. I'll sit beside him in the cool shade of her, and turns me another cigarette. He opens his mouth, ready to speak, then changed his mind. I asked him how was his crusade against France, out of politeness. I cited several cities he has destroyed a tired, and I feel that he came because he wanted to talk to me.

"I am disappointed myself he says.

-For what?

-The French mentality. Looks like you do not care that I break everything.

-On has a lot of stuff that we occupy. And it is destroyed already own.

It contemplates my scars like to assess my sincerity. I would suggest a good cigarette, but I'm afraid he crushes it between his fingers as big as me. I lengthen my legs in the sand, thinking that I still find myself sweating and covered, and it will return to swim.

The shadow of God is not enough. The furnace is intense, but I find it inappropriate to ask the bearded giant to lower the temperature. Gulls away, disoriented, circling approximate performing a ballet absurd. The horizon looks like a collision between two blue incompatible. The tide is much higher now. It touches on the first lot of algae it has left behind yesterday, and these take a darker color.

"It's still a fucking world that created you there, I said with admiration.

And yet, you did not see Mars from its heyday ...

I sense a hint of resentment in his voice. It's true we can not achieve anything we do, and maybe God himself is part of the army of losers. I asked him if he can not do anything to fix things, and he looked at me puzzled, before embracing the landscape burning with a sweeping gesture.

"It is a first draft," he explains. "Then

must rework, rather than demolish everything.

It was I who said that? God shrugs and replies that he did not intend to destroy Paris, or even the village where my parents live, if that's what I think. I said that he was a disinterested remark, and asked him what he will do now.

"I'm going to blow up everything, a little. Then I want to learn the saxophone.

"That's cool.

I rub my legs to make it from the sand and passes underpants on seeing a walker in the distance coming towards us. God tells me it is time for him to again. I beg to remain, take a deserved rest, to go for a foot bath. But he gets up and adjusts his robe.

"Then at least grant me one wish!

Thou hast believed in Aladdin? he bawls. You owe me something, not the opposite!

I apologize for having offended, and said that what I want is a trifle for him, I just want to give me back my tattoos. It m'inspecte from head to foot, and asks me to make a turn on myself. Irving made me wounds are barely healed, and my skin is dotted with pinkish bumps.

"It is you," he said. You are the sum of it all. Not be afraid of new beginnings.

-Your son, he would have healed.

-Shut up.

He leaves his footsteps shook the ground, towards the interior. He turns to me a wink, rubbing his ribs, and resumed his journey. It disappears very quickly from my field of vision. Not surprising when you see the strides he is a bastard is capable of.

I look at the last tattoo that I have, just to confirm what I think I understand. There, on my ribs, God has corrected a spelling mistake. We can now read in full "Every day will be gold. "

I smiled like a kid, before I return to the walker that I saw just now, none other than Xavier. Sometimes trotting, dripping with sweat, wearing a fluorescent vest and shorts sports too small.

This morning my friend decided he would enjoy his return to the campaign to regain footing, as in high school. He has obviously forgotten that in the meantime he started to smoke two packs a good day.

arrived at my height, he made a stop to spit his lungs. His face is scarlet and testis than its tiny shorts. He coughs, spits mucus, and suppresses dismissal.

still half-naked, he articulates between two noisy breaths.

"You can talk with your shorts ...

"It was in your closet, so shut your mouth.

-I wore when I was twelve.

I get dressed while he finishes dying. I asked him if he went away and he ordered me not to open his mouth before he is returned home my mother.

The tide has not moved, and I almost want to stay here until tonight, just to watch it rise. Xavier puts his testicles with humor, and takes the path of the car. I'm through the dunes, deliberately omitting tell him that he took the wrong direction, story a little longer to enjoy my day at the beach.

Note: Always the stories of balls ...

Soon: Xavier is nothing without me