Ol’ Frankie

Looking at Frankie, one can only wonder how old exactly he is. Even his hometown’s only centenary citizen, Sheila, has fewer wrinkles on her face.

However, Frankie acts a lot younger than all the local teenagers. Whenever he’s in town, he rides his twenty-year-old Harley-Davidson and wears leather jackets under the merciless sun. A boy claims that he saw Frankie listening quite enthusiastically to an emocore album of questionable quality once, but Frankie swears over Ozzy Orboune’s grave that he’d never dare profane his own ears like that. It just won’t do to tell him that Ozzy Osbourne is very much alive – he’ll say that Ozzy is dead and that the fact that he’s now recording cover versions of The Beatles songs is a subtle indication that his agents found a substitute to keep cashing in after the original’s death, just like it happened to the late Paul McCartney a couple of decades ago.

Also, he got married at the age of fifty, when most men are begging with God to kill them at once, thus sparing them from their wives’ snores every night. Mrs. Frankie is a small, peroxide blonde who already shared the same roof with him years before he started saving money to buy his beloved motorcycle.

The fact that Frankie had decided to tie the knot after living half a century should have been enough to shock the entire city, if only it wasn’t too busy waiting on tenterhooks for Frankie’s wedding itself. In the invitations, the couple had asked the guests – who happened to be every single person in town at the moment – to attend the ceremony in their best bathing suits, and no one even frowned at that.

Frankie and his blonde got married in their swimming pool. Everyone noticed the blissful smile the priest wore throughout the rite, and the more malicious were sure it wasn’t because he was uniting two souls in love, but, rather, due to the fact that he wasn’t wearing much, aside from that grin and trunks.

Frankie had worked as a mechanic and played the banjo in his free time for as long as everyone could remember. After his wedding, though, he opened a lucrative business in Vegas. Now he performs approximately forty-five swimming pool weddings per month. The couples can choose between having a Triton or a mermaid for celebrant.

Written in 2006.



Quero te pegar pela mão e te levar pra conhecer a cidade: inteira, linda e cheia de memórias – mas espera, isso é a cidade ou é você? Não, eu sei que você também nasceu aqui, não estou falando de visitar pontos turísticos, podemos pular essa parte mais burocrática. Vamos às lembranças. Vou te contar como descobri essa vista e memorizar o jeito como o sol se aninha no seu sorriso, nessa tarde em que todas as pessoas correm por suas vidas e nós nos damos ao luxo de viver. Depois tomamos sorvete à sombra dos prédios, e o sabor vai ser o nosso por uns tempos. Você tenta me contar tudo o que já viu passar daqui, desse mesmo banco de praça, mas um cara perguntando as horas com um cacoete estranho interrompe a história e vira nossa primeira piada interna. Se bem que o dia todo foi uma piada interna: só eu e você, que o vivemos, podemos entender por que não paro de sorrir, na solidão de um ônibus quase vazio.