1. April, 21st 2011
Story Contest
Elísabet Iglesias Cano
2º C (Cal)
Jurgita
− Put me another “hottie”! (He hits with his glass in the bar while he makes a rude movement
with his tongue)
− My name is Jurgita. (She responds serious)
− Your name is “hottie” or like I want to call you, bitch. Have you come to my country to tell me
how I have to call you? Hungry bitch!
Jurgita swallows her anger and gives him another drink. She doesn't want problems. It´s her third
night working on the Ipanema, an old bar whose appeal is just the name. She thinks of her son and
her gaze is lost for a while.
− That's better “hottie”. Do your work and shut up. (He continues looking furtively)
Jurgita turns around and starts to clean the bottles. She doesn't want to see the face of that
unhappy pig. She can smell his acid breath, it is repugnant. Distressed she out of the bar and goes to
the table where two old men are playing cards for hours. There isn't more customers. The coffee
machine and the air vent made more tolerable the tense silence.
She starts to pick up the pistachio shells on the table and one of them holds her hand
tenderly.
− Don't worry. He barks but no bites. He's a fixed customer. If you need the job ignore
him.He's bitter.
Jurgita's eyes become glazed and with a weak smile she thanks the advice.
She goes to the bar again. She begins to wash the dishes. The water and the detergent odor
comfort her. Blatantly the unhappy pig looking at her ass begins to do stupid howls.
Jurgita turns off the tap, she dries her hands and looks at him strongly:
− In my country, pigs don't sing like wolves.