I rolled my tongue again—oops
—frenó en el paladar — déjame parar — a ver si para—oops—frenó en el paladar — la lengua motada en la cólera de su frenillo.—
— Mírame a mí. Mírame a mí.
— My mother took one look at me and screamed.
–¡Un gargajo!
— I was so scared I scrambled upstairs on all fours and climbed into my sister’s bunk. But I showed them who I am. Notice me now. How I dared down the dark stairs crawling into a fight. Sure they noticed. None of my brothers ran into the traffic of the night and sent my mother into a fright.
— I guess it’s like when you least expect it, in the middle of the night, in the streets, near a dumpster, a mouse appears. You scream and in a flash the mouse disappears.
— I first appeared in Kalooki.
— You played a seal, didn’t you? I can imagine you balancing a beachball on your pugnose.
— There were plenty of silly animal tricks, but I landed a role that nobody dared.
— Nobody wanted.
— Kalooki tried to fly like a bird, but never pulled it off. Leopard Seal flopped and flounced around, but never left his rock. But me, I crossed the whole ocean, inch by inch, belly-crawling across the rug so gracefully, so quietly nobody noticed I was moving. I not only gave setting to the play, I gave a dwelling to the penguins.
— You let them step on you?
— On the quilt covering me. Such fierce concentration did I exercise that neither squawk nor squeak did part my kisser when Kalooki stepped on my fingertips. It was a humble role, but the power behind the play.
— Dog or woman?
— I didn’t bark or scream. I became what I had to become, an iceberg. Unable to see what the animals were doing, I was minding my own business, the business of crossing the whole ocean without melting, even though I was sweating like an ox. When the curtain fell, I was the one who went the farthest and accomplished the most. They clapped and hooted when I emerged pink and soppy, bowing:
— Reminds me of when Jabalí and I drove through the mountains and there in front of us was an icy river.
— What’s this got to do with Jabalí?
— He used to fish in that river.
— What’s this got to do with me?
— He sat on a rock and fished with a needle and thread.
— How pathetic.
— How poetic. The fisherman and the iceberg. To know that my Pipo saved all those penguins from drowning. What a tender guy. When I looked into Jabi’s eyes I used to see el hilo verde de la esperanza, until I started feeling I was his rag and he was sticking needles in me.
— Wait till you feel my iceberg melting in your ocean.
— I prefer a fire burning in the heath of my house.