THE MAN WHO THREW KISSES TO HIS IMAGE ON THE SHOP-WINDOWS

I found the man in the middle of main street. He was well-dressed, in a long wool coat. But what attracted my attention was not his clothes, but his behaviour. He was calmly walking along the street. However he stopped in front of each shop window he found along his walk. Then he threw kisses to his own reflection. I must recognise I was astonished to see such a sample of narcisism, or wasn't he just a freak?

However the man realised I had been watching him for a while, so he understood I was looking for a logical explanation for that weird behaviour, other than a mere sample of narcisism, as I've just said.

"Young woman", he suddenly addressed me, "you'll be wondering why I throw kisses to my own reflection on each shop window, won't you?"

I didn't answer, I was just puzzled.

"Well, I do it for the sake of my image", he explained. "I don't want my image to believe I don't like it, so I'm just trying to cheer it up... Believe me, it's good to make your own image happy, otherwise it might gossip at your back. By the way, I'm just noticing your shadow is unhappy..."

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

THE PERFECT TATTOO

"How do you like my tattoos reproducing several pages of The New York Times on my back and legs?", asked Elisabeth to her boyfriend. "I see you spend a lot of time watching them. It's a piece of art, isn't it?".

"It's amazing, extraordinary..."

"Are you praising them?", she asked flirtingly

"Well, not really. To be honest, what I like about your tattoos is that they update every day, so I've stopped buying newspapers every day. Your love makes me save money".

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

THE COOL TATTOO

Alejandra hid a surprise for all those envious friends of hers with whom shared the same territory on the beach every year. She came up the first day of the summer season wearing a fashionable bikini and a long tatoo that went along her back. It was the lyrics of a famous song in English, which obviously made her friends exclaim how amazing the tattoo was. She was sure she'd be the summer's queen. She heard twenty five times at least: "¡Cómo mola!" (=how cool!)

Until the moment when a British lecturer suffering from hangover in his way back to the hotel saw the tattoo on Alejandra's back and said in a macaronic Spanish in front of her friends:

"You, girl... Who on earth has written that piece of shit on your back? How can a tattooist make so many spelling mistakes in just four lines?"

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

WHEN CHILDREN HURT

Dear Dr. Muller. My son doesn't evolve as positively as the rest of his classmates. As an expert, what do you recommend me to do?. Yours, Mrs. Walker.

Dear Mrs Walker. If you still keep the guarantee, try to exchange the thing for a new one. Yours faithfully, Dr. Muller.

Dear Dr Muller. But I was talking about my son, not about a household appliance. Yours. Mrs Walker.

Dear Mrs Walker. Yes, I know. I'm talking seriously, madam, and I was referring to your son, too. Best regards. Dr Muller.

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

SOCIAL NETWORKS REFLECT

"Wish I could eliminate people so easily in the real world as on social networks", thought Marina while looking at John's profile for the last time, the man who had just broken up with her with just a SMS.

She clicked on the remove friendship button and then OK. John was no longer among her friends on the social network.

The next morning she learned John had been found dead in front of his computer. The police said a shoot came out of his computer screen.

Marina's reaction was to cancel her own profile before someone might remove her friendship and end up like John. She didn't expect she'd be found dead with her head inside the computer monitor the next morning. The police considered it a suicide.

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

WHEN THE MOON YAWNED

Suddenly the moon yawned. For millennia humankind had ignored the moon had a mouth, therefore they just spent the following months commenting the terrible caries the moon had.

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

THE MYSTERY OF SEX

For months, my flatmate Genaro had been insisting that the lady running the chinese food shop around the corner was a nymphomaniac. He had reached that conclusion because she was always insinuating herself to male customers. Genaro was sure her husband, a rare example of bald Chinese, didn't give her enough pleasure, so she insinuated herself to satisfy her needs. I myself had the impression the woman intended to have fiery sex, too, but I tended to think she just wanted to have sex for any other reason (I had never met a nymphomaniac).

That's why I was surprised when my flatmate began to come home wearing a loaf of fresh bread every day. We never ate bread, so I didn't understand why Genaro bought bread. After one week I finally asked him the reason of his strange behaviour. He confessed at once, as if he needed to open his mind and his heart to me:

"It's because of that damned Chinese woman... Yes, she's a sex machine. I feel with her what I had never felt with any other..."

"Is she really a nymphomaniac or something else?", I inquired.

"Actually, I don't know", he explained. "As far as I know, she has sex with different men in the backside while her husband is out. Once we finish and return to the shop, she always picks up a loaf of bread and says: «you now buy loa' o' bread»... So she gets to sell more loaves than anybody else in the neighbourhood, despite it's a quite low quality bread..."

For the time being Genaro keeps on coming back home with a loaf of bread under his arm. He's earned three kilos because he feels he's forced to eat that nasty chewing-gum-like bread; his conscience doesn't allow him to throw it to the trash.

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

THE EXECUTION

His last thought was that they could not kill him twice, notwithstanding he had two death penalties. So when he began to feel the movement of the poison through his veins that would stop his heart, he just thought "piss off, you motherfuckers!". He then fell unconscious while feeling an unbearable sharp pain in his heart...

He woke up later on the nursing stretcher of the prison. A man in white greeted him smiling, behind him there were three armed guards. Definitely, he wasn't in paradise.

"Welcome back to life, you bastard". He didn't understand a word, He remembered nothing. But the man in white, a doctor, explained: "You've been dead for a while, you know, but we've brought you back to life to execute you again... Don't forget you still owes us a death penalty..."

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

THE MANNEQUIN

The traffic police had been suspecting for a few weeks that a certain driver used a mannequin to occupy the second place of his car in order to be allowed to drive along the fast lane - a lane where only cars carrying at least two passengers were allowed to circulate. It was difficult to detect a car having a mannequin together with a human, but the eagle-like eye of officer García finally detected it.

"It is that yellow car coming into us", he announced to his colleague while putting his binoculars down. "Let's stop it... The fine will be historical".

The couple of agents stopped the car. Officer García examined quickly the co-driver. It was clear it was a mannequin, moveless, pale, covered with a hood and wearing sunglasses. Besides a blanket covered the lower part of his body. In the distance anyone could have believed it was a real human co-driver. 

Meanwhile, Garcia's colleague asked the driver to show him his driving license. But the driver didn't react, he remained looking ahead holding tightly the steering-wheel.

"Haven't you heard me?", insisted the other police officer, who was beginning to get nervous.

Then the co-pilot turned his head left into Garcia's colleague and said to him:

"Don't insist, officer. It's a mannequin. It can't speak..."

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

WHEN DYING IS A METAPHORE

The insolent journalist asked Madrid's Mayor about the city's ceaslessly alarming degree of pollution:

"Mrs. Mayor, how do you interpret that grey filthy fog wrapping Madrid up that some experts consider too toxic to be breathed?"

The Mayor showed her best smile and replied:

"How would I interpret it? As something really magnificient: Madrid is not wrapped up in pollution, but surrounded by a halo of mystery..."

Frantz Ferentz

MY MUM IS A MAGICIAN

"Mum, when I grow up, I want to be a magician, like you".

"How come? I'm no magician at all", answered the mother to her little child who really admired her.

"Yes, you are..."

"No, my sweetie".

"You are a magician, mummy", insisted the child. "Otherwise how could you feed five people in this house with only four hundred euros per month?"

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

WHERE THE ORDERS COME FROM

The whole country showed its astonishment. Nobody, including most of his voters, understood how the Spanish Prime Minister obeyed so blindly the orders coming from the highest European institutions - such orders were destroying the country in the name of austerity. Critical voices declared that the in fact the Government had no plan to fight against the crisis, to which the PM replied angrily that everything was perfectly planned. And so, that Saturday night, the PM took his private phone and dialed a long number. He had made sure nobody could hear him. A voice on the other side answered:

"Here Alex King, your fortune-teller, what can I do for you?"

"Hello, Master... Here's Aries-Power again...", greeted the Prime Minister scratching his beard.

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

CLOSE FRIENDS

The Spanish Prime Minister was reading the reports dealing with his popularity. The papers said that he was the worst deemed PM in the recent history of Spain. The PM was really concerned, he read carefully the cruel lines while he scratched his beard.

He looked around. He was completely alone in his office. It was sad to read that kind of news. He couldn't understand why people didn't appreciate his efforts to save the country. He puffed deeply his authentic ten-euro Cuban cigar and said:

"You're a close friend... I know I can trust you".

The cigar, while lighting up its top, replied with a friendly voice:

"You always can, Mr President, you always can... Keep on doing the same".

The PM sighed. He had found consolation where he knew he would.

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

FREEDOM OF SPEECH

The Spanish Prime Minister got really worried about the last news he was receiving from his Minister:

"Sir, the demonstrators have found the way to put banners on the Moon to protest against our Government".

The Prime Minister scratched his beard. He was aware that it would be impossible to send a police patrol to the Moon to dismantle the banners. It had been hard to place a policeman on every ten square metres throughout the country, but to send them to the moon was virtually impossible.

"How did you find out they have reached the Moon?", asked the PM.

The minister produced a pocket telescope. It had to be directed to the Moon. Then the banners could be perfectly read on the satellite surface.

"Shit", pronounced the PM, who was certainly unable to imagine that nobody had set foot on the Moon to protest, but had imported those telescopes from China, so that when they were directed to the full-moon, they showed the banners against the Government, which in fact were etched on the telescope glass.

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

GREAT PROBLEMS, GREAT SOLUTIONS

The Spanish president was really worried about the bad image his country was offering to the world. The New York Times had published some pictures of Spaniards looking for food in garbage containers.

"We can't tolerate that", protested one of the ministers holding one of the photos during the cabinet council. "I suggest we should send these photographers who offend Spain straight to jail..."

The president scratched his beard. He was thinking over the matter calmly. Then he said to his concerned ministers:

"Don't be so visceral. We live in a civilized country. All we have to do is ban hunger..."

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

ON THE BUS

The man took a seat by the pretty, attractive woman in the bus. He was aware that reading exotic books made him look like a rather interesting person, so he produced that old book he had just bought at a second-hand bookshop a while ago written in Georgian. He knew no Georgian at all, but that was not a problem, that was just a tool. He began to turn the pages and then laugh; he pretended to find the text funny. Meanwhile, the woman was looked at askance by the man, who analysed her reactions. But she did not even smile. Actually, after some ten minutes the woman addressed the man saying:

"You are pathetic. You are the only person in the world who finds funny a Roman Right book written in Georgian".

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

THE HUG

The riot police were not ready to fight against the people. Politicians should defend themselves, take up their own responsibilities. People began to clap at the policemen when they slowly began to put their shields and truncheons down. All of a sudden, a young woman jumped out of the crowd and hugged one of the agents, called José. The clapping became then deafening and the flashes of the journalists immortalised the scene, while everybody claimed for democracy.

Two years later, when José, the same police officer by then unemployed, was about to be evicted from his flat because of an unpaid mortgage, he resisted. He was taken in front of a judge, who condemned him to pay a fine. José, then homeless and moneyless, approached the judge and hugged her tightly, while saying:

"Remember me? I'm the policeman you hugged two years ago during the demonstrations..."

"Yes, I do...", she whispered trembling.

"I just want to give you back your hug", he said to her, before being taken by two safety guards and thrown away violently.

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

THE SUPER-HEROINE

The policeman was writing the answers of the little girl on his notepad, while the detective formulated the questions to little Nancy, only seven years old:

"All right, darling, tell me again that story: why did you push your auntie Meg off the window while she was cleaning the glasses?"

Little Nancy sighed and hugged her teddy bear tightly. Then she explained:

"Because Mum has said ten thousand times that auntie Meg is a super-heroine".

"A super-heroine?", asked the detective.

"Well, not that exactly, what Mum really says is that auntie Meg has an endless super-ego... That means she is a super-heroine, doesn't it?", asked little Nancy opening her beautiful and naive blue eyes. "And super-egos are supposed to fly, aren't they?"

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOUR AS YOURSELF

"Father, I'm a sinner...", confessed the man to the priest."I'm rude to people, you know".

"Well, my son. God will forgive you", said the priest in a lovely tone. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you".

"Are you sure, father?"

"Absolutely".

The man stood up, opened the door of the confessional, faced the priest and began to slap him mercilessly.

"Are you crazy, son?", shouted the priest at the man, defenceless and astonished.

"No, father, I'm just a masochist who follows your command..."

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

EPPURE HA TALENTO

His wife declared him officially a loser. And so was he recognised by his whole circle of acquaintances. However, he was a very talented man, therefore he was able to invent a smartphone app called "the honorable loser", which helped losers throughout the world to bear their misfortune with dignity.

Frantz Ferentz

WHAT IS A FATHER GOOD FOR

To my daughters.

"What does your father represent for you?", asked the headmistress to the student who was sitting in front of her, leg-crossed and chewing gum in a rather cheeky way.

"My father?", answered the girl. "My father is just good to give me money".

The headmistress nodded. She recognised to herself the teenager was another lost case. She let her out. The girl quickly left the high-school building and went back home. She then came up with the idea of going shopping with her friends that afternoon. She'd had to ask for it to her dad, such as she had commented to the school headmistress.

"Hey, dad, need fifty euros...", she said approaching the cash dispenser in the middle of the hall while she produced the credit card.

Frantz Ferentz

SPIRITUAL TECHNIQUE

"Our scanner is the latest in technology. It detects anything a customer would take out of the department store without paying", announced Mr Randhi, the manager of the store to the journalists.

"Anything, absolutely anything?", asked a skeptical journalist.

In that very same moment a customer went through the scanner. The alarm suddenly went on. The security guards took the customer to a private room for a while. Then one of the security guards approached the manager and whispered something to his ear.

"You see?", he addressed the journalists. "Our sophisticated scanner works perfectly. That man had something that wasn't his".

"What was it?", asked full of curiosity the same journalist.

"A life that doesn't belong to him".

Frantz Ferentz, 2011

THE VOICE

He couldn't avoid falling in love with the owner of such a sweet, delicate, full-of-nuances voice. He even began to smoke in order to have an excuse to meet her, but the fact of the voice belonging to a tobacco vending-machine was not important to him.

Frantz Ferentz, 2012

NINE

The awful pirate Captain Stiffbeard could sink a ship with his hook but couldn't burst out black spots on his face. 

EIGHT

When her adolescence came officially to an end, her black spots began to be legally prosecuted.

SEVEN

When she found out that black spots were dimensional gates on her face, she gave up extracting them forever.

SIX

The rivalry between the black spots of the nose and those of the ckeek has inspired major literary works such as The Lord of the Rings.

FIVE

When he finally got 22 black spots on his face, he became a real teenager and his black spots could make up two teams to play football.

FOUR

The real home to prof. Smith's ideas was a black spot on her left cheek. That explains why she got a vegetable when she burst it out.

THREE

The fake alien of the circus was actually half human and half a huge black spot with its own life.

TWO

Her black spots spreading throughout her face were something unique, everybody said. That's why she patented them.

ONE

He was so poor that on his will he could just have his black spots shared among his heirs.

NINE BLACK SPOTS

NINE BLACK SPOTS

Note: all this nanostories were created in the morning of January 1st 2012

© Frantz Ferentz, 2012