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MY TRASH PLaNET
© WRiTER oN THe MoON
The Lunar Tax
While we wait for, according to Jeanette, to acclimatize to the change of conditions between RA and the Moon, (seeing the inside of the pumpkins flicker by the lunar wind) the woman with very red lips has begun to speak and everything she says begins to be frankly annoying.
One cannot be on the Moon, after being invited to the << Most Amazing & Cool in all of Madrid >> Gin & Tonic, being invited to fly in RA and talk about all this bullshit.
"Everything is taxes", she tells us when she remembers that she has not yet received her payroll, that she will miss work tomorrow and that she does not know how to justify her absence. According to her, her boss will be furious. She tells me all this as if I were responsible for her suffering such miseries.
"I earn 22,200 euros per year, which translates into twelve gross payments of 1,850 euros."
"In net, I have 17,460 euros per year, which is 1,455.03 euros per month. The bastards steal 4,739 euros a year, 394 euros every month that I lose on the way."
Okay, I say looking outside for Jeanette's octopus.
"From the 17,460 euros per year that I have after tax to consume, -she continues- if I spend them in full, I have to pay even more taxes that also apply to fucking everything."
I yawn, I have an excruciating headache.
"I've been working for twenty-three years. Of the 510,600 euros that I have generated, 109,020 euros have been stolen from me... if we add the taxes that I have payed added to that..."
PLEASE... Somebody kill me!!
"During those 23 years of hard work, I have worked the best hours of the day and the week, dedicating 44,160 hours of my time to a work empty of any purpose..."
The waiter of the mysterious inner essence starts to cry. He says that his case is even worse, that he has been splicing temporary contracts since he stopped studying architecture, indebting his parents and him for life for his university career and for becoming an architect, not being able to design buildings and having to serve at the end Gin & Tonics for seven years in the attic of a terrace in Madrid.
Jeanette presses a button on the ship.
The front door opens.
And these two die immediately.
"I had to finish their misery," Jeanette lets out. "Do you think that's life?"
I don't know whether to be angry or hug her with gratitude.
"Come on, help me. They serve me as a new decoration!!!!" says Jeanette excitedly.
We tie them on sticks, like scarecrows and we put pumpkins covering their heads (One one fire, representing the burning inner essence from the waiter, and the other one with red lipstick).
I had never seen a person die on the Moon. What happens is worth seeing and being written about.
A gust of solar wind shakes them and the atoms are swept from their bodies and scattered. Some fall on the surface of the Moon absorbed by the roots of the vineyards, turning into leaves and grapes.
Others return to earth and are reborn as other creatures.
Now in the Pacific Ocean, there is a red-lipped whale that ironically struggles to survive by escaping from the whaling ships. And a mouse that is driving a revolutionary movement in the sewers of the city of Manhattan. He claims to have the answer to the concerns of his species, because he has amazing memories of a past life.
My Trash Planet keeps regenerating.
金 継 ぎ