A superhero by Jorge Aldegunde

Gobblers & Masticadores

Thomas knew Louis was feeling miserable. He probably had good reasons, though. Louis’ parents had put a lot time, effort and expectations for the last treatment to do wonders but, quite like previous ones, the kid showed no sign of clinical improvement: he’d lost weight, had long shades on his pale blue eyes and barely spoke. His look wandered between the worn-out curtains and a salient drip –to which he’d be attached only too often–.

But Thomas had a plan: there was something he could do for his friend and, perhaps, for himself too. That’s why he’d carefully hidden a brand-new Wolverine costume –boots, wig and all–.

“Stand up and look out of the window at eleven o’clock”, said Thomas before leaving the room. Louis looked back and nodded, barely realising that Thomas carried a new backpack.

Kids would all gather up in the hospital terrace, a large garden-like playroom…

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The souvenir by Jorge Aldegunde

Gobblers & Masticadores

The poor wretch had no money left for tokens from such a fantastic trip so, upon leaving, all of us decided to share our small ceramic figures –powerful images used to invoke gods– with him. We really loved the process of acquiring them, bargaining hard at the bazaar with that eccentric guy who thought he’d get us broke as fools.

Later at the airport our smile died away: out of sheer clumsiness, one of the colourful idols slipped off my hands. Upon hitting the floor, it broke into a thousand pieces. Amongst them, a shady white powder showed conspicuously.

Now, sitting in cold, dark isolation cells we strive to prove that we are not drug mules, but a bunch of fools.


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A selfie by Jorge Aldegunde

Gobblers & Masticadores

Holidays were coming to an end, which circumstance would leave him a bittersweet taste in the mouth. He took to reviewing photos, something he found relaxing and shallow. When shooting, he had to be extremely patient with her wife –she hated posing–. The kids though, were very photogenic and always keen to show. Truth be told, he was the perfect paparazzi: there was room for everyone in his camera, but for himself.

He would slip off the frame when anyone came up with the idea of a collective picture and offered himself to shoot again if the result wasn’t good enough.

Presently, he looked around and realised he was solo. Maybe it was a good time to try.

He prepared his Canon for a deferred shot and placed himself at a distance. The flash made him stir a trifle. He checked the enormous LCD screen for facial features: elevated…

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