The Bard And Its Reflection

The

bard and its reflection Miguel Ángel Mendaro Johnson

From A to B might be a story…

Thanks Sarita!

Free edition. Title:: The Bard and its reflection. Autor: Miguel Ángel Mendaro Johnson. Copyright: © 2009 Miguel Ángel Mendaro Johnson. www.mendaro-es.com Cover & illustrations by: Miguel Ángel Mendaro Johnson. Translation supervised by Sarah Brown. All rights reserved. Material protected.

A

“Do you really think that ‘The Bard and its reflection’ is...? How can I say it...? The right… title?” Liliana waited for some sign of humour in the eyes of Joseph's gloomy colleague, publisher, and agent, a vulgar and ordinary bloodsucker. Noting that he was serious, that he was not joking, that he had cornered her in his office at the end of the day just to laugh at the title of her new novel, she snapped aggressively: “It's perfect, honey. Bard. A lyric poet”. “I know what a bard is; but no, the title it’s far from perfect. Who will read a book with a title so....vague? Not even with a glorious violent cover will you be able to capture the attention of a potential reader. Knowing how difficult the fucking book market is, even putting a photo of quartered corpses, we couldn’t sell a single novel...” he scratched his head, contemplating a horrifying picture. “Well, maybe it might work if there’s a lot of blood ... No! Stop!” He shouted pounding the table, “because even then, there's still that incomprehensible... novel of yours!!” “I don’t need readers, or recognition. That book represents the total of everything I have barfed up in the last eight months. I'm rotten”. “That’s true. But what you 'barfed up' sucks, especially if it's yours. I mean it. If you don’t find a good title, we won’t make money. Do you remember exactly who pays you, Liliana? It’s called a contract and you? Comply with it. You? Are just a product. Act like it .And while we're at it, what were you thinking when you wrote that? It's a real mess... a timeless mess; I don’t find any sense of it anywhere, there's no logical structure, there's...” “You know what, Joseph?” she interrupted, turning to her silent boyfriend. “What?” “You disgust me”. He was silent. His boss, however, kept shouting. “And you are a raving lunatic!!. Oh please... ‘The bard and his reflection’?

That was it. Liliana stood up abruptly. She took the glass of whiskey that moments before Joseph had served her as a courtesy, and pouring it on the floor, she emptied it of liquid retaining the ice inside. (Fifteen euros poured in the carpet Joseph must have thought.) Then she lifted her skirt, lowered her panties to her ankles and lifted the glass between her legs, positioning it in the inner and upper thighs, urinating in the glass. Half filled without spilling a single drop with insuperable perfection. The astonished Joseph had to laugh in self defence. “Fucking crazy”. “This is all you get. Your whiskey is real shit. You won't find another better distilled or served than this... Take it or leave it”. “Fucking crazy!” “I insist, dear”. Joseph figured (having read all of Liliana's novels from cover to cover) that she was now out of control. He got up and walked to the rack where he had hung his coat. Gazing silently at her, he began to put it on. Liliana strode over, holding the glass of urine towards him, removing the ice that melted slowly. She looked right at him, outraged. Joseph worked up the guts to try to leave the impending brawl without a word. Suddenly she threw the liquid in his face. “You bastard!” She grabbed a pen and stuck it in his chest. She twisted it. Joseph did not... Carla stopped quickly, as if she had just noticed a traffic light change suddenly to red. She stopped typing, somehow paralyzed and a bit frightened by what she just had written: "Pee in a cup? No way! Too bold and... vulgar. And... kill my Joseph? You're crazy!” She thought laughing. She realised she was taking revenge for what she had actually experienced the night before. Everything in her short text was true, except that she was not Liliana and Joseph was still alive and that under no circumstances she would pee in a cup as she had just so perfectly described. The only real thing was her brand new novel and its brand new recent failure: "The Bard and its reflection." And when the title had provoked the laughter of his obnoxious colleague earlier that morning, Joseph had withered. Carla stood up to go to the bathroom. She needed to cool off, remove all her unwanted evil thoughts. However, when she was looking in the mirror she smiled: Liliana... dirty Liliana, what a slut you are. You peed in a cup. It's time for fun, shall we play?

B

Liliana was a simple pretext. An imaginary accomplice. A recreation. Her relief. Carla, master puppeteer, in front of the computer was giving life to her new creature, equipping her with arms and legs, eyes and mouth; trivial aspects with which a writer has to accomplish with for those who wanted to read her. And with each line describing her, Carla dressed her with a gorgeous body. However, my Carla was a skinny woman with inert and charred eyes by the light of the computer. Liliana was endowed of all that she did not have with regard to physical and a wicked and twisted mind, able to urinate in a cup and then murder. Seemed like a perfect being lit by a full moon, shedding tears as a terrible defect inside corroded her: When Liliana contemplates her reflection, she saw the demonic and despicable of her spirit.

“Alter ego”. Carla thought. “Yes, my alter ego”. And the simple idea of a deplorable novelist that could write what she wanted with no strings attached, no rules, helped Carla to feel consummate. After all, she was her and me, both. Tomorrow urgently Carla thought that it will be good if she met with Joseph to settle certain issues which urged to treat. She opened her browser and went straight to her email account. She typed her password, ‘Valjean’, and once inside, wrote the following email: Dear Joseph, I disagree on what we discussed about my new novel. ‘The Bard and his reflection’ is a novel with a broad and ambiguous horizon. However, hundreds of ideas go trough my mind and I would love to treat them with you. A new book is underway. Tomorrow, if that’s ok with you, I'll drop by your office. Regards, Carla.

She left the computer exhausted. “Regards? I know that son of a bitch for so many years. How disgusting manners and formalities can be sometimes”, she said. Then she went to the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet she saw her reflection in the mirror used to watch her whole figure when she was trying on a new dress and fantasized the impression she could cause. But the truth is that few dresses appropriately girded on Carla. It took some time to release the urine by relaxing her body. Accidentally a fart came out. She laughed and looked at her reflection: “Will you dare to tell this, Liliana?” Asked imagining that inside the mirror was her new creature. “Your new novel will shine naturally. You have to mislead, entangle, and above all, be dirty ... dirty! Liberté!