big!, and suddenly the clouds start moving, they’re going away, it must be because we’re driving much faster now), sounds good, my love?, do you promise? (I promise, Mum, I say, I love you tons).
Mum asks me to pass her over to Dad. He slows down and takes the phone. He’s holding the wheel with one hand. I don’t understand why he never plugs the phone into Pedro’s speaker. That’s what Uncle Juanjo does. Why do Mum and Dad really like doing the things they tell me people shouldn’t do? Dad only says, yes, no, well, aha, I see, later. It’s hard to tell what they’re talking about. I hope they’re not fighting.
I straighten my cap in the mirror. It’s a bit big for my head. But it looks awesome. The magician said I’d changed. And it’s true with the cap on I look different. More like I’m ten or more. Maybe that was the trick. One thing’s for sure. This cap is special . I wish I could’ve asked the magician where he got it. It’s a lot like the one Stallone wears in, what’s that movie called? The one on TV at the motel the other day? In that movie Stallone is a trucker like Uncle Juanjo. Well, not like Uncle Juanjo. Drivinga truck is much more exciting in the movie. In real life it’s okay. But sometimes you get bored. Or your back hurts. Stallone’s back never hurt. Of course he trains all the time. And his back muscles are super strong. In the movie he stops to arm wrestle fat guys with moustaches. And he beats all of them. That’s what I like about Stallone. He always beats bigger and taller guys. And he teaches his son. At first you think he’s a sissy. But in the end he learns. I wish I had a Dad like that. I mean, my Dad’s awesome. But I wish he’d teach me how to arm wrestle the jerks at school. I don’t think he can now. He gets more tired because of the virus. Stallone doesn’t get ill. But Dad still has loads of strength. Totally . I tried to lift his backpack yesterday. Oof. No way.
I imagine we’re in the school gym. I’m arm wrestling the jerks and I’m wearing my cap. I twist their arms. Lift them up in the air. I make them look ridiculous. Lying on the floor. Crying like wimps. And my friends all clap like crazy. I try to imagine it and I can’t. The images go all fuzzy. My mind goes blank in the middle of the arm wrestle. Or else suddenly I see they’re winning and they’re bending my arm back and making fun of me. This image is really clear. Them making fun of me. Kicking me. Spitting at me. Then I imagine something else. I imagine a huge truck honking its horn loud. It smashes through the school fence. Destroys the gym. Drives over everybody. Squashing their heads. One by one. Crack. Crack. Crack. And I feel better. And I look in the mirror. Hey, says Dad, aren’t you going to take off that horrible cap?
The delivery takes forever. I thought when we got there, we unloaded and that was it. The guy Dad knows isn’t at the warehouse. It’s a different guy. And he complains about how late we are. Dad raises his voice. The other guy threatens to make him come back tomorrow. And to send a complaint or something. Dad gets furious. He looks like he might hit the guy even. I’dlove that. Then he calms down. He tells me to wait in the truck. And he gets out. I wait for a bit. Dad takes ages. This bit of the warehouse is dark. I can hardly see anything from up here. Just piles and piles of crates wrapped in plastic. I look for the phone to play mini-golf. Too bad. I think Dad’s taken it. Oof. I’m bored. I press the horn. Two workmen look at me from a freight lift. They keep going up. And they disappear. The freight lift sounds like a normal lift. It makes more noise when it goes up than when it comes down. The workmen go down again. After that, I don’t know. Suddenly I hear the truck door. I open my eyes. I see Dad arranging some papers. I stretch my arms. Everything okay? I ask. Bah, he sighs, money talks.
It’s getting late. We drive past industrial units. We can
Mum asks me to pass her over to Dad. He slows down and takes the phone. He’s holding the wheel with one hand. I don’t understand why he never plugs the phone into Pedro’s speaker. That’s what Uncle Juanjo does. Why do Mum and Dad really like doing the things they tell me people shouldn’t do? Dad only says, yes, no, well, aha, I see, later. It’s hard to tell what they’re talking about. I hope they’re not fighting.
I straighten my cap in the mirror. It’s a bit big for my head. But it looks awesome. The magician said I’d changed. And it’s true with the cap on I look different. More like I’m ten or more. Maybe that was the trick. One thing’s for sure. This cap is special . I wish I could’ve asked the magician where he got it. It’s a lot like the one Stallone wears in, what’s that movie called? The one on TV at the motel the other day? In that movie Stallone is a trucker like Uncle Juanjo. Well, not like Uncle Juanjo. Drivinga truck is much more exciting in the movie. In real life it’s okay. But sometimes you get bored. Or your back hurts. Stallone’s back never hurt. Of course he trains all the time. And his back muscles are super strong. In the movie he stops to arm wrestle fat guys with moustaches. And he beats all of them. That’s what I like about Stallone. He always beats bigger and taller guys. And he teaches his son. At first you think he’s a sissy. But in the end he learns. I wish I had a Dad like that. I mean, my Dad’s awesome. But I wish he’d teach me how to arm wrestle the jerks at school. I don’t think he can now. He gets more tired because of the virus. Stallone doesn’t get ill. But Dad still has loads of strength. Totally . I tried to lift his backpack yesterday. Oof. No way.
I imagine we’re in the school gym. I’m arm wrestling the jerks and I’m wearing my cap. I twist their arms. Lift them up in the air. I make them look ridiculous. Lying on the floor. Crying like wimps. And my friends all clap like crazy. I try to imagine it and I can’t. The images go all fuzzy. My mind goes blank in the middle of the arm wrestle. Or else suddenly I see they’re winning and they’re bending my arm back and making fun of me. This image is really clear. Them making fun of me. Kicking me. Spitting at me. Then I imagine something else. I imagine a huge truck honking its horn loud. It smashes through the school fence. Destroys the gym. Drives over everybody. Squashing their heads. One by one. Crack. Crack. Crack. And I feel better. And I look in the mirror. Hey, says Dad, aren’t you going to take off that horrible cap?
The delivery takes forever. I thought when we got there, we unloaded and that was it. The guy Dad knows isn’t at the warehouse. It’s a different guy. And he complains about how late we are. Dad raises his voice. The other guy threatens to make him come back tomorrow. And to send a complaint or something. Dad gets furious. He looks like he might hit the guy even. I’dlove that. Then he calms down. He tells me to wait in the truck. And he gets out. I wait for a bit. Dad takes ages. This bit of the warehouse is dark. I can hardly see anything from up here. Just piles and piles of crates wrapped in plastic. I look for the phone to play mini-golf. Too bad. I think Dad’s taken it. Oof. I’m bored. I press the horn. Two workmen look at me from a freight lift. They keep going up. And they disappear. The freight lift sounds like a normal lift. It makes more noise when it goes up than when it comes down. The workmen go down again. After that, I don’t know. Suddenly I hear the truck door. I open my eyes. I see Dad arranging some papers. I stretch my arms. Everything okay? I ask. Bah, he sighs, money talks.
It’s getting late. We drive past industrial units. We can
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