Η ΗΘΙΚΗ ΤΗΣ ΜΕΣΑΙΑΣ ΤΑΞΗΣ - MIDDLE CLASS MORALITY
ΓΑΛΕΟΣ ΣΚΟΡΔΑΛΙΑ Νίκος Τσιφόρος
— Μη στενοχωριέσαι, Στέλιο μου, άμα φτιάξω εγώ σκορδαλιά θα σου τηλεφωνήσω να έρθεις να φάμε.
Αγοράκι είμαι και σας παρακαλώ Μπίμπη, μη με παραχαιδεύετε διότι έχετε κι ωραία ματάκια, είστε και τρυφερούλα, μ’ αρέσετε αρκετά και αγοράκι είμαι… Βέβαια, κάνα δύο φορές που πήγα να σας ξεμοναχιάσω Μπίμπη, κάνατε μουτράκια.
Δεν τις προδίδει τις φίλες της η Μπίμπη, αλλά όσο
νάναι θέλει λιγάκι και το πονηρό... Άμα δεν το ήθελε θα μου έδινε μια
σφαλιάρα και θα έλεγε «άντε να χαθείς μασκαρά!»
Από σκορδαλιά, όμως, δεν μπορώ νάχω παράπονο. Μου
την προσφέρει η Μπίμπη. Άμα μαγειρεύει κολοκυθάκια, κουκιά, οτιδήποτε άλλο, με
παίρνει τηλέφωνο.. Πάντα ταύτα εγένοντο και περνάγαμε ζάχαρι και οι
τρεις μας. Και καμία υποψία στο μυαλό της. Σάμπως έχει και μυαλό;
Περιποιότανε τη φιληνάδα της, την παίρναμε μαζί μας, κάναμε δηλαδή ό,τι
επιβάλλεται σε μια φίλη χωρίς καβαλιέρο και γενικά …τα βόλευα.
Άφησα, πέρασε καμιά βδομάδα, αλλά δεν μ΄αφήνει η τσαχπινιά. Δεν μ΄ αφήνει, Εμ, είμαι και τσαχπίνης. Κείνο το Βράδυ που γυρίσαμε από την Κηφισιά, η Πίτσα ήτανε εκτός εαυτού.
Δεν περάσανε τρεις μέρες, τηλεφώνημα στο γραφείο
—Πάμε... Τι ωραία, την έψησα! Και την έψησα καλύτερα που
έβαλα τον Αλέκο να μου τηλεφωνήσει σπίτι. Και το άλλο μεσημέρι, μυρωμένος και θαυμάσιος είμαι
στης Μπίμπης. Είμαι και λαίμαργος, έπεσα με τα μούτρα έφαγα,
έσκασα. Και μετά λικεράκι, ντιβανάκι, χαδάκια. Βεβαιώσεις, αλλά τίποτε άλλο.
Ως εκεί και στις τέσσερις νάμαι σπίτι μου να φρεσκάρω. ΑΛΛΑ ΔΙΗΓΗΜΑΤΑ ΤΟΥ ΝΙΚΟΥ ΤΣΙΦΟΡΟΥ ΜΕΤΑΦΡΑΣΜΕΝΑ ΑΠΟ ΤΟΝ ΒΑΣΙΛΗ Κ. ΜΗΛΙΤΣΗ: ΟΙ ΠΕΡΙΠΕΤΕΙΕΣ ΕΝΟΣ ΣΕΤ ΤΣΑΓΙΟΥ - A SET OF PORCELA... N. TSIFOROS - Ο ΚΕΡΑΜΙΔΟΓΑΤΟΣ ΣΥΜΒΟΥΛΕΥΕΙ GREEK SATIRE - ΕΛΛΗΝΙΚΗ ΣΑΤΙΡΑ
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TOPE (Galeorhinus galeus) IN GARLIC SAUCE
Nikos Tsiforos
Rendered by Vassilis C. Militsis
At home we never make garlic sauce. It is not that I don’t like it. In fact, I love it. But Pitsa is against it. “I don’t eat garlic sauce. I can’t stand going somewhere and reek.” “Well, when you don’t eat garlic how do you expect to smell of, wife? Sour milk?” “Garlic sauce is out of the question!” This is unrequited craving; but Bibi understands me: “Don’t fret, Stelio dear. When I prepare garlic sauce I’ll call you up to come over and eat together.” Pitsa belongs to me and Bibi to no one. They both are the best friends in the world. They exchange such phrases as ‘dear’ and ‘honey’, they just kiss each other in the air and they barely touch their cheeks. They agree on almost everything, and indeed Pitsa went to court as a witness for Bibi’s divorce. They have their own secrets, they play cards, they scorn and duly revile the others of their kind, and generally they fare like two dear little sisters in this ingrate world. That’s why Bibi considers me as her brother, too. “Come on, make him some garlic sauce.” “Forget it!” “But he’s just a little boy…” Of course I’m a little boy and I beg you, Bibi, don’t pamper me too much, because you’ve got cute little eyes, you are tender and I like you quite a lot, and above all I’m a little boy… It’s true, when a couple of times I have attempted to be very close to you, your cute little face grew sulky.
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” “I am, but always afterwards.” “What about Pitsa?” “She’s ashamed, too. We all are. Do you know what a bashful family we’ve proved to be?” “I don’t mean this. Pitsa is my friend…” “Well, it’s our friends we flock together! Have you seen anyone hook up with their enemies?” “I never betray my friends…” Bibi never betrays her friends; nonetheless, I daresay she likes to fool around a bit; otherwise she would slap me on the face and say: “get lost, you creep!” “She does no such a thing, though. She’s only laughing… And when a Bibi laughs you grow confident. And if you are confident, you go ahead… And if you go ahead, you find yourself outside her front door. “Well, goodnight…” “Just like that? Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?” “Shame on you! Are you forgetting Pitsa?” “Give me one and Pitsa will give me another.” “Come on, be off…” As far as garlic sauce is concerned, I can’t complain. It’s Bibi that provides me with it. Whenever she cooks zucchinis, horse beans and whatever else goes with garlic sauce, she gives me a ring: “Stelio, do you feel like garlic sauce?” And Pitsa is always nagging: “You can go, but don’t come home stinking; you’d better go straight to your office, if you please!” These things always came to pass and we all three had it easy. No suspicion in Pitsa’s mind; in fact, I wonder if she’s got any, at all. She took great care of her friend, we took her out with us – in a few words we did what we ought to do to an unchaperoned friend and generally… I got by. Well, to the best of my abilities, I snatched some tidbits off Bibi, without, naturally, her being too generous, but I liked it all. It must also be said something else. There are some friends who would be too willing to seduce their friends’ husbands, and Bibi was no exception. And it was as clear as day… And what’s sad, I had not only seen the clarity of day but Pitsa, as well, though it had taken her some time to see it. “Don’t you think you go too far with your gallantry?” “Who, me?” “Who else, then?” “No, brother! She’s a lonely girl and our friend, so I’m being nice to her.” “Forget it…” The first time she just said it; the second she grew furious. “Do you know you’ve gone overboard this time?” “What have I done?” “With this cow. I saw you dancing too close with her tonight. You helped her with her food; you were over attentive and smiled at her sweetly.” “I beg your pardon! You’ve hurt my feelings!” “I know what I’m talking about! I have half a mind to grab her by the hair and we’ll go haywire!” “You’re making your heart heavy for nothing.” “Do it again and we’ll reckon about it, all right.” I let a week go by, but roguishness was tempting me. You see, I’m a sly bastard. That night, on our return from Kifissia, Pitsa was fuming “Why did you let her sit next to you in the car?” “Well, where could I let her sit? Should I have hitched her behind the car and make her race after?” “The seat next to you belongs to me.” “I let her sit in front so that she wouldn’t feel lonely.” “Oh, humbug to her, too.” And what’s more, dear reader, she said that to Bibi, too. “Listen up, my girl; if you came over to ruin my home, you’d better not set your foot here again!” Bibi wept. They two bitched and traded insults. And their friendship was over and out. So I lost Bibi, and above all, I missed her garlic sauce. Indeed. I relished the sauce, and that was over, too. Not more than three days later, I received a phone call in my office. “Stelio, this is Bibi.” “How are you, kiddo?” “How am I? I’m very upset. I’d like to see you…” I waited for her in my car at Metz. She arrived, got into the car and headed to Vouliagmeni. “She’s awful!” “Don’t tell me; I’m aware of it; I’m married to her.” “The very idea! She has suspected us that…” “Horrid thoughts, really…” “It’s nobody’s fault. Put the blame on me that I’ve maintained my self-respect. Why, if I wanted to, I could have an affair with you… well, I beg your pardon!” “Oh, don’t mention it; but go on!” “She needs to a lesson, doesn’t she?” “So, why don’t we give her one, then?” “Stelio, you know I’m fond of you.” “Well, I’m fond of you, too!” “Stelio, what good may come out of it, I want you to come to my place so I can take my revenge on her. Then she can’t be worrying in vain.” “Let’s go…” “Not tonight. The day after tomorrow at noon. And then you’ll find out what Bibi is really worth for.” I cooked the whole business nicely! And I managed the thing better when I got Aleko to phone me at home: “Stelio, the Turks are coming tomorrow on business and we’ve planned to invite them out to lunch. There’ll be only men…” Pitsa, who was eavesdropping, swallowed it hook, line and sinker. The following day at noon, perfumed and spiffed up, I was at Bibi’s. Bibi laughed cryptically: “What have I got for you?” “What?” “Tope in garlic sauce!” “You don’t say!” For a moment I was afraid that my clothes could trap the aroma of garlic, indicative of Bibi’s cuisine; but I could easily explain away the smell. Well, the visitors came from Istanbul, and we all tasted garlic sauce. After all, Turks love garlic… Gluttonous as I am, I hit the food right away; I ate till I burst. Then followed a digestive drink, lying on the couch and petting. Promises and assurance, but nothing more; at four I was at home to freshen up. No sooner had I entered than Pitsa was already at the door. “Breathe out to me!” “What’s come over you?” “Breathe!” I did. “You smell of garlic! So, you’ve been to Bibi’s, have you?” “No, it’s the guests…” “What guests, you cheat? It was she that has just phoned me to prove she wasn’t to blame. It was you who’s been bugging her. The girl is OK and tried to keep you off, but you…” Pitsa and Bibi have made up. They don’t want me in their company any more. Thus, I’ve missed the garlic sauce, and this is what gets me down. Note: Metz, Vouliagmeni, Kifissia are suburbs in Athens. |
ΠΗΓΗ: diiphilo.blogspot.com
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