Robert (white shirt) and me (cap and brown jacket) telling our friends our anecdotes. Image of my property or authorship
This is the first publication that I share in this community, I had not dared to write before because I preferred first to enjoy reading your interesting works. By the way, I introduce myself, my name is Carlos Daniel Perez (@waraira777 for my friends on Hive). I was born in a city called Caracas, capital of Venezuela and unlike many of my great friends I still remain in the place where I was born.
I consider myself a very familiar and friendly person, although I must say that during my childhood I was quite shy, so making new friends for me was something complicated, but as I grew up my circle of friends became more numerous and my fear of meeting new people was dissipating (I guess that's what maturity is all about).
Of all the friends and acquaintances that I have had the fortune to shake hands, hug, fight, reconcile and continue to consolidate that friendship to the point of considering us brothers, without a doubt that is Robert, my "pana" of the soul. We met on the very first day of our lives in kindergarten and since then our friendship has never stopped growing stronger.
Robert and I were something like a magnet for trouble, one day or the other we received some kind of punishment because of our pranks. There is one in particular that when we remember it we can't stop laughing to the point of not being able to hold back our urine. One morning Robert phoned my house and asked me to run to his house, to make an excuse to my mother because what he had to show me was "the mother of all pranks".
Evidently in the face of such a warning I could not afford to miss that invitation, without asking anyone's permission I crept out and went to Robert's house. In my mind I knew that on my return home I would be in for quite a spanking (back then it was even legal to punish children as an "education" technique), so this prank had to be epic to be worth the likely encounter with my father's leash or my mother's sandal.
Upon arriving at Robert's house we headed towards his mother's room, a place that is usually a no-go zone for any child, at least for us because of our "background" it was. It didn't seem like a big deal to me, typical woman's room (the lady was a single mother), lots of order, pastel colors and girls' stuff; the surprise was in the bathroom, specifically in the cabinet behind the mirror, Robert immediately takes a small box from where he extracts some strange white cylinders with a long rope at one end: no doubt, we found Robert's mom's firecrackers.
We were thrilled, I mean, if an adult hides his firecrackers with such care it is because their roar and destruction must be monumental. They were certainly very strange firecrackers, they had a soft, cotton-like covering which made us suppose that maybe that would make them more lethal. Robert immediately proposed to take the box to the plaza to test the forcefulness of his mom's little soft rockets.
When we got to the plaza we noticed a cairn that a dog left right under a tree, we both looked at each other's faces, let out a Machiavellian smile and without saying anything we deposited the white firecracker on the stinky launching pad, it looked like a candle on a chocolate cupcake. We counted down, while I gave the honor of lighting the mother firecracker to Robert since he was the one who discovered them.
The expectation was immense, as the wick was consumed our hearts fluttered uncontrollably, it was time, the flame reached the ignition point and...nothing, total disappointment! Not a roar, not a big fuss, no dog shit scattered all over the square, Robert's mom's firecracker did nothing, it just burned up without a bang.
On the way back to Robert's house his mother was waiting for us with a face that reflected that she knew about our incursion into her feminine quarters, but before she said anything Robert and I expressed our concern about the low quality of the product that the lady was hiding behind the bathroom mirror, we advised her not to buy those mediocre firecrackers again and at the same time we recommended her some Chinese ones that guarantee a total roar. The funny thing is that Robert's mother couldn't stop laughing at our legitimate concern.
More than forty years have passed since this anecdote and we always remember it with a lot of humor, even though my dear friend and brother in life moved to the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, the distance does not prevent our friendship to remain stronger than ever.
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Amigo Carlos alis @waraira777 después explicarás que significan los 3 7 jajaja, porque el waraira es del cerro, bueno debo decir que no llegue al punto de orinarme, pero si de sacar lágrimas de mis ojos de tanto que pude reír, imaginando el momento en que consiguieron los petardos jajajajajajajajajaja y luego la terrible decepción.
Creo que por este primer relato debes tener más cuentos como ese, según tus antecedentes.
Amigo bienvenido al mundo Hive
Oye muchas gracias por el recibimiento, la verdad es que cuentos así tengo muchos, lo que pasa es que no encontraba un lugar adecuado para compartirlos. Lo del 777 es que soy admirador de Cantinflas, el legendario triple 7 y bueno me pareció genial.
Pues muy buena esta historia Carlos @waraira777 ya por el otro commentario se la razón de tu nick. Mientras leía juraba y rejuraba que ibas a salir con que esos petardos eran algún producto femenino íntimo ja, ja, ja.
Esa famosas cholas voladoras que todo lo arreglaban, sin duda alguna no causaron grandes traumas psicológicos pero si muchos recuerdos de vida.
Bienvenido al mundo Hive donde cada historia nos resulta una gran aventura compartida. Pense que eras nuevo por la etiqueta pero veo que tienes tiempo en la plataforma.
Muchísimo éxito y un abrazote.
Hola muchas gracias por su comentario y apoyo, en efecto, tengo bastante tiempo aquí en Hive, lo que pasa es que cuando entro a una comunidad por primera vez estilo presentarme porque evidentemente nadie me conoce y coloco esas etiquetas porque ser el primer post donde no me conocen. Si la verdad que desde niño ya conocía todos los calzados de mi madre, más bien la suela, sé que era otra época pero menos mal que ese estilo de educación pasó de moda.