Even the Spaniards lose their minds because of the sun. You brain may roast, cook or go rancid, and it’s not the same. Sometimes you have no clue what’s going on in Spain. One day, Tina, Henry and I stared into the sky where the Moon kept Sun company. Then, we came to some village with a sweet shop, which we left with a liter of wine and a porno mag, since they had no sweets. It was obviously an adult sweet shop. Since we were kind of lazy that day, we stopped for a beer or two before the last five kilometers.
We walked through heat and finally found an albergo, where we were greeted by a pair of snickers and a stick, and by a volunteer working in that establishment, lounging in the lobby. He was around thirty, strong frame, sitting behind the desk, extremely serious. On one shoulder there was a picture of Virgin Mary, on the other, Jesus. Strange energy dominated the room. The house was dank, and it smelled of old age. The guy only knew a few words of English. You can make fun of someone in your mother tongue quite easily, but since Henry was with us, we had to stick to English. (By the way, Henry is from Estonia.) But that wasn’t a problem, since the hostel guy couldn’t speak English beyond “yes” and “no”.
He took us to our room. The albergo was absolutely empty, but the dude glued himself to us and followed us with his arms crossed behind the back wherever we went. He stood two feet behind Tina as she was hanging the clothes to dry. There he was when we were drinking wine in the otherwise wonderful garden. He was towering by the door when I went to the toilet. What the actual fuck? We were wondering to whom the snickers and the stick belonged. Where is everyone? What if this guy is killing off the hikers? What if kills us, too? In what manner? A lovely rose grew in the garden and we speculated the hikers were buried there. Hahaha! Your brain doesn’t need much to wander off the cliff.
Just like every evening, Tina had a long chat with her boyfriend or her mother that evening. I won’t waste my breath or energy on that. So, Henry and I were alone in the garden. Finally, a couple entered the albergo and looked for the manager. We were so glad to see them because they reduced the chance of us being slaughtered by the creep. We told them he must be close. And there he was after five minutes. He spoke Spanish and told them the albergo is completely full and that he cannot take them in. WHAT THE FUCK? The albergo was completely empty! We are so dying here today. TFW your smile is worried, and your eyes are popping out.
I went to our room to tell Tina what had happened and fuck me sideways, there was nobody in the room. Since we then lived in our version of reality, I ran back to Henry and told him the house is empty. There goes the neighborhood! We searched for Tina for at least five minutes when we realized we should check outside. There she was, on the phone. When she saw our faces, she hung up and joined us in the garden. Three versus one. Our brains were seriously fucked up. Lo and behold, there he was, the creep. He offered us a bottle of red wine since we were fresh out of ours. We’d already agreed not to take anything from that guy, neither food or drink. You never know what he might’ve done to it. It’s an echo of our moms telling us the same thing when we were little.
But… Alcohol is a bitch and we have a drinking problem. Since the prospect of not having any alcohol wasn’t fun, we accepted the bottle. He opened it and poured each one a glass. He wasn’t drinking, though. Henry: “We are fucked!” The guy just laughed. Then all of us in unison: “What the fuck?” He pulled out his phone and showed us his family photos. He gained our trust that way and we kept him around till late evening. We weren’t actually sober. It was a strange kind of drunkenness, the one where you bounce wall to wall like a bouncy power ball. There is a video, but it should remain private.
Still worried about what the night has in store for us, we hit the sack. In the morning, we were awakened by loud heavy metal. We were catapulted out of our beds when the guy started screaming as if someone was skinning him. Then, everything went quiet. We gazed at each other when he stormed in our room and scared the living shit out of us. I almost shat my pants. He started laughing and told us he spoke English and that he loves to prank his guests. We were pranked all right. When we composed ourselves, we started laughing as well. We gave him a fiver for his antics. And since he was a fun guy, we decided to hang around with him for another day.
My legs begged for some rest anyway. From walking, that is. They were up for dancing, so I took my JBL loudspeaker and organized a dance in the lovely garden. There were those tacky ancient Christmas lights as well. I told you, you can have a lot of fun on the Path. Back to the high school times. And why not, goddamnit? It was fun then, was it not?
And don’t forget: the main reason stories are boring and not worth your time is the word “NO”.