Siete minutos, Ismael Camacho Arango [read with me TXT] 📗

table, he disturbed some of the chairs, the noise echoing through the place. Then he saw a poem written throughout many pages- the other Homer must have been a busy man.
The Gods of Olympus had helped him in a war against someone he couldn’t pronounce, and everything for love. As Homer tried to understand all about Zeus, Hector, and King Hermes doing their dealings with the Trojans, he saw a book with big boats. It had to be a message from Olympus, where the other Homer resided for eternity. He moved towards the librarian with the books.
“I want to take them home,” he said.
Se stamped the first one before looking at the picture in the cover.
“It’s uncanny,” she said.
“Can I rape you tonight?” he asked.
“I have a boyfriend,” she said.
An orchestra played in the park and the tramps danced with each other when Homer made his way home.
“I’m Homer the Greek,” he muttered to himself.
As the band played the national hymn, Homer barked. The Trojan War made him fight for his money, when he would do anything to earn a few pesos.
“Hurrah to the president,” a woman said.
“To the president,” some other people said.
Homer remembered a sad looking man who never did anything about the economy as Father Ricardo appeared by his side. The priest looked fat, thanks to the love of God and the women behind the confessionary.
“You should have left the Indians alone,” he said.
Homer shrugged. “They had nice teats.”
“We’ll discuss that another day,” father Ricardo said. “Will you come to mass tonight?”
“I’m busy, father.”
Shaking his head, Father Ricardo moved down the street, where the butcher cut his meat and the grocer put some apples in the counter. Everybody worked to feed their families, even if some of them didn’t go to mass. Homer found Miguel tidying the boxes of coca in the shop, ready to sell to the customers before the end of humankind.


The library
“I’m giving a lecture about the sea in the library,” Homer said when Jaramillo answered the phone.
“The Indians didn’t bring you much money,” Jaramillo said.
“I’ll buy boats this time.”
“Good idea,” Jaramillo said.
“Thank you.”
Homer had to get lots of money before the end of time, even if he had to conquer the planet.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in front of a mirror by the door. “I want to help the world.”
Homer had to buy a ship and a few trucks to bring his merchandise back from the port after his lecture in the library.
“Two and two are seven,” he muttered to himself.
He wanted recognition for his struggles to help the country in times of need, even if that sentence meant nothing as many things didn’t go anywhere.
“I love myself,” Homer said.
On turning the pages of the book, he saw boats full of sailors ready to conquer the planet, as the memory of that voyage with his parents came back to his mind. The telephone ringing disturbed his reverie.
“We have booked a room for you tonight, Mr. Homer,” a woman said.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You must be at the library at seven thirty pm.”
Homer felt euphoric. Everything had gone according to his plans, where he had to convince the audience to part with their money.
“I have an idea to help the world,” he said to himself in the kitchen.
He found Miguel serving the customers in the shop, unaware of his intentions towards the world.
“I’m leaving you in charge of the shop,” Homer said.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to buy some trucks.”
“The jungle wasn’t a good idea,” Miguel said.
“It will be fine this time.”
On moving down the road, Homer thought of his role in the country. His boats would help the economy by giving jobs to the local people, if everything went
“Mr. Homer,” a man interrupted his thoughts. “Do you have any coca in the shop?”
“It’s the best in the country,” Homer said.
“I’ll get it later.”
Homer had arrived at the park where the photographers waited amidst their equipment.
“Are you buying any boats?” they asked.
“I’ll tell you later,” Homer said.
As he entered the building, the young girl lifted her eyebrows at the sight of the green eyed foreigner with the best ideas.
“Mr. Homer,” she said.
He silenced her while feeling her vulva under the fine pants her mama had given her for Christmas and forgetting his talk about the sea.
“They are waiting,” she said.
“I want you.”
“It isn’t right, Mr. Homer.”
“Nobody is watching,” he said.
As she took him along the corridor where the sun shone on the pictures in the wall, he thought of his words while the people cheered inside a room. It had to be Armageddon like the legends had predicted since the beginning of time
“Will someone bring him a glass of water?” the girl asked.
Homer sipped a bit of aguardiente Jaramillo offered him, before holding the microphone in his hands.
“This country has large coasts filled with treasures,” he said. “I love the sea.”
People applauded when he promised to have the best ships in the world. They had to support the young entrepreneur leading the country into the future.
“I’ll give employment to local people, he said.”
“That sounds fair,” they said.
“We must help our businessman,” the librarian said.
People donated lots of money for his cause, as Homer accepted it with tears in his eyes. He had to be a genius.
“I love the sea,” he said.
“Hurrah to Homer,” they said.
They opened a bottle of champagne to toast their hero.
“You can help the economy now,” they said.
Homer drank some aguardiente mixed with the champagne, whilst the world faded away in a symphony of colours. Kam and the Indian town appeared out of nowhere, the hammock moving in the empty space forever. The librarian wiped his forehead with a wet cloth when he came back to reality.
“You fainted, Mr. Homer,” she said.
“It must be the excitement,” he said.
He drank some of the water she offered him with delicate hands, before wiping his face with a handkerchief. He had to conquer the world under her pants.
“Come to see me tonight,” he said.
Thunder interrupted his words, as lightning exploded outside and rain fell over the city.


The ships
The papers spoke of the foreign businessman travelling in the back of his truck to the port. Homer slept between a sack of potatoes and another one of plantains, as the flies annoyed him but he had a fare paying passenger next to the driver. Having bought the truck after his talk in the library, he hoped it might have some merchandise on its return to the city.
The cries of the seagulls brought him back to reality, as the town filed beyond the boxes and the truck stopped by a garage.
“Hello, Mr. Homer,” the drivers greeted.
“I want to go to the harbour,” he said.
“It’s at the end of the road,” they said.
Homer jumped down on the floor, stretching his legs before heading for the entrance where a few dogs mated with each other. He wanted his boats, even though it might be a long road under the sunshine.
“I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” he said.
“It’s fine,” they said.
Homer started his trek to the docks, as the breeze caressed his face and the market appeared with the stalls full of fish some of the sellers had caught from the sea that morning.
“Buy my cocadas,” a woman said.
He felt sick on looking at the sweet concoctions she must have made in her house earlier. They had lots of sugar, bought in the local market with the money she earned from her job.
“I’m not hungry,” he said.
The woman looked at him with sarcasm. Then she pulled her boobs out of her blouse while talking nonsense.
“My children have not eaten today,” she said.
“I’m sorry,”