Rodrigo Leao - All Dogs are Blue

We’ll arrive in Cabo Frio today. And be in Búzios two hours from now. They killed a boy in Búzios. They’re saying it was your uncle. Your uncle’s a poof, but he doesn’t mess around with kids. He never laid a hand on any of you.

I was at work and heard my mum tell me to go home. I knew that my grandfather was ill. Grandpa died that day.

Mum, what’s death?

Death is a soap opera on Globo, son.

Fearsome went by in a wheelchair. He was so fat, he wouldn’t fit on a stretcher.

How could an oaf like that be the Fearsome Madman?

Only Batman could solve that problem.

The Fearsome Madman, who has pestered the people of this town for fifteen years, died today in the city asylum. Some say he was hanged. Others, that he had a heart attack.

Turn off the TV. It’s on all day long.

Another terrified scream. They stole some evangelical pamphlets and another thousand dollars. I was starting to distrust my own shadow. Could Rimbaud be involved? He didn’t like TV. I’m afraid of Rimbaud. I’m fucking afraid of Rimbaud.

Your uncle’s a faggot (hahahaha …). Watch it, he might take you up the arse.

Don’t say that, it’s just going to make things worse for your uncle. This is a small town.

Must have been someone from outside who screwed the little boy.

My uncle was a joker. He liked to drink coffee. He liked to drink free coffee. He would have lunch in botecos . Those trashy botecos that serve pickled eggs and malt beer. He would eat his food leisurely. Pay for the food. Chat with everyone at the bar. Become friends with the staff. He loved a good joke.

You’ve got something on your face.

Where?

He would point at the man’s face.

Go to the toilet and get yourself cleaned up, young man!

The guy would leave and go to the toilet. Seizing his opportunity, my uncle would drink the guy’s coffee and leave. He did that a lot. One day, the fifth time he pulled the scam, the coffee was too hot. He took too long. The guy came back and beat him up. He gave him such a beating that he never tried that dirty trick again.

My uncle had money but he would do it for the adrenaline rush.

A lot of people do things just for the adrenaline rush.

Rimbaud was walking along the wall.

Get down, you fuckwit. Careful.

I went to my room so I wouldn’t feel my adrenaline rising. Rimbaud soon came looking for me.

I’m alone. That’s how this world is. Where’s Baudelaire? He’s playing snooker.

It’s so sad when your friends are two hallucinations. One that’s with me nearly all the time and the other who just shows up every now and then. Get out Rimbaud, you’re just a hallucination.

The doctors at the clinic treated people like customers.

You’re going to have shocks, but you’ll be sedated.

Dad, I’ll do anything to get better.

Shocks under sedation don’t cause those traditional muscle contractions. It’s more like a nervous tic.

Rimbaud appeared and said that everything was going to be all right.

Night came and it was cold that day. Made you feel like building a bonfire in the asylum. A big bonfire. But the B agents were working on the case of Fearsome Madman’s death.

Why was Fearsome Madman afraid of you?

Who knows. I had to act like I was crazy. And I did it really well when I wanted to. Don’t try to be crazier than you really are.

He must have been afraid of my voice.

There’s nothing wrong with your voice. It’s not even deep.

But apparently it sounds like his dad’s voice.

Insufficient explanation. Did you know Fearsome Madman outside?

That interrogation was fucking rough. I wouldn’t harm a fly. Much less kill one.

Talk to Rimbaud. Talk to Baudelaire.

We’re going to build a bonfire. Tons of lunatics around here. Are you a lunatic?

I went to bed.

The lunatic with a cobra in his hands wasn’t there any more. He’d been released. The room was free. I had a wank while thinking about the hottest nurse. The one that came all in white . Then I heard the bell ring for medicine time. The bell echoed shrilly throughout the asylum. The whole gang started to gather.

It had been days since I’d seen Rimbaud. Baudelaire had disappeared, too. It was better being without them.

I missed my room. My blue dog too. I’d never slept away from home, in a friend’s house.

At my friend’s house ‌I watched Esper on TV 8. I ate meatballs. I didn’t have problems eating. I always ate everything. I slept on the floor.

When my cousin would come over, my grandfather used to say:

Let your cousin sleep in your bed.

I won’t.

Your cousin wants you to go work in Brasília.

Only if I get there in a VW Brasília. I have to graduate first.

Then they died in that plane crash.

I didn’t kiss the first girl I loved. I went and kissed another girl to learn how, so that I could kiss the one I loved better. The one I loved saw and gave me the boot.

They bought a karaoke machine and put it in the TV lounge. It was one of those where you sing your heart out while the lunatics dance. The sergeant thought he was Frank Sinatra. He sang that old crooner Altemar Dutra. He was awful. My ears aren’t potties. The city street sweeper ‌sang that sertanejo song ‘Boemia’ 9. To each his own.

The B agents were still onto me. They were pestering me with that idea that I’d killed Fearsome.

It was you. You were close. He was afraid of you.

It wasn’t me.

Rimbaud appeared, gyrating and singing ‘Light My Fire’.

You’re the one who killed him. It was you. You killed Fearsome Madman.

I started living with more of that paranoia in my head. Now I didn’t even know any more if I had been involved in Fearsome’s death. Rimbaud said I had.

Breakfast on the table. Toast. Jam. Hot chocolate. Sliced cheese. The table at home, with a new tablecloth on it.

Bread with a single swipe of butter. The table in the asylum.

Three more police officers committed.

My room (I was still alone) is going to get overcrowded.

Three in the morning. I woke up and took a leak. In the dark I saw one cop rubbing on the other. The next day I didn’t remember a thing.

Nothing bothers people like karaoke. It’s everyone wanting to sing all the time. The halfwit knocked out ‘Andança’ and ‘Festa do Sol’. Why do these karaoke machines come with pre-installed songs that everyone knows how to sing?

Rimbaud screamed in my eardrums: you killed him. I didn’t believe my friend. I’d never harm a fly. I treated flies really well. I’d catch them, keep them in plastic bags and release them in other surroundings.

I went to my room. It was empty and full of fireflies. There were so many that I had to turn off the light. They came at me. I went to take a shower. Was there a murderer among us? If so, I could be at risk. I told my dad I was at risk. He talked about my treatment. He said the B Cops had put a ban on anyone leaving. I speculated that that would cause more psychotic episodes among the psychotics. My dad said that if there were a murderer, he’d have to be arrested.

They should have everything settled in a week, son. Hold tight a bit longer.

I’ll either leave here dead — or something worse.

I wasn’t going to stay there in the shower for an hour. The murderer could sneak up on me, like in Psycho .

I don’t think the insanity inside me comes from my dad or my mum. But the gene is definitely from my dad’s family. My grandmother has a horrible persecution complex. She thinks my dad doesn’t like her. Thinks we should pay her rent.

The whole gang queued up to eat meatballs with rice and beans for lunch. It wasn’t the choice of food that was the problem, it was how it was made. In large quantities, as if for animals. You couldn’t demand nice table manners in that place.