Howto Tie O-ring Belt

One consolation and affection of father

not see because it has made the lids in a gesture of horror hardened, but that, along with the boyish face of his eleven years, fat pieces of shit swaying gently in the oily broth fermented urine. Dad is furious because he's fat and because Fede Fede, being left alone at home, returned to get cookies, chips and soda. Dad found it a great time getting fed up in front of the TV. You want to eat shit?, He said. Well, that you eat. Fede

fingers dad feels stuck in the neck and hooks, in the neck, the weight of its invincible strength. Fede chin crosses the dry film rust inside the toilet. Stirring. Try to escape by turning the head to the right: can not, on the left, either. Fingers now holding his jaws. The feces have begun to fall apart, to dissolve in water fluorescent, to transcend his throat through the nostrils. Can do no more: release the air, swallows, kicks, screams low smelling soup. Does this want, eh? Dad pulls out the hair. Fede grunted frenzied hopes and coughs. He burns his face. Pores dilated as hungry mouths, they absorb the poison. The eyes, irritated, upset you. Eyelid tightening painfully. Want more?, You want more? Of eyelashes, the hair from her face drained dense liquid disgusting shit. Want more?, You want more? The nose is itchy. Want more? Sneeze. Want more? Weakly leaning over the cup. Turns the stomach. The arms, trembling on the edge.

Dad had told him many times not to eat those things that are fattening: look at you: you look like a pig. Often today, a diet, I want to lose weight, your health is, son. Fede, everything, yeah dad, good dad, whatever you say, Dad. And he had done to please, to win her affection for him also said, as his brother, is all an athlete, it seems to me when I was young, sure a lot of fans. But that day he made it easy to indulge a reward for having endured an entire week of vegetables, fish fillets, cooked with water, unsweetened jamaicas. A taste, nothing more.

bath in the utility room on the cup, Fede contemplates his eyes red vomit ardiéndole still, breathing hard, trembling body, itching in the nose yet. Oh no, oh no. Fede sneezes. Oh no, oh no. Vomit a little. You will not return now, says Dad, oh no. And again, the hooks embedded in the neck, again, rinsing washing his face rotten, again, the kicking, eyes that open and close in the darkness, the pores that are burned, the acid in the mouth, nose, again, muffled screams, the head that does not desperate, wildly seeking a way out. Fede

When he comes to, throw it beyond the mouth. Tilts his head. Separate the lips exhausted. Back pain in their eyes, a nose, an unbearable itch. Sneeze. She sits. Tose many times. Wants to throw up, and fear dominates it. A sweet taste was stirred in the throat. Have you okay? There's dad, he thinks. Stops. No vomiting. Dad looking for his eyes. Fede dropped his head slowly. Glue the shirt soaked chin. Forgive me, son, with a friendly tone, without rancor. Fede want to mourn. Vomiting was slipping through the teeth. No crying. Son, now do not understand, but someday. You can not help it: sneezing, a bit of vomit it utters a string of drool dangling from his mouth. Son, son, please understand me, all you do for your sake. With eyes full of water, provides Fede shit stains on the shirt is. Son, son. His body quivers. His stomach growls. Feel cold. Everything I do it for your own good, son this hurts me more than you.