Darlaine loved sucking on a lollipop and then taking a shower. I've always been a clean man and valued having white towels in the closet.
The first time Darlaine used my apartment for her toilette , I gave her a large, fluffy towel that covered her entire body. I thought it was amazing: a 1,50-meter-tall girl from Rio Grande do Sul completely wrapped up after giving me oral sex. This gave me the confidence that Darlaine wasn't just my little dwarf, small when standing, but a giant in the doggy position. She cured me of virtue blindness, making me believe that my equipment wouldn't become obsolete.
I always obeyed my mother, who forbade swearing at home. And I was incapable of competing with my father. A handsome man, a wild tenor, and a memorable goalkeeper for Pardinho FC.
So DARLAINE was my mermaid in crossing this vale of tears. That's why, the first time I rushed to collect the fluffy towel, as soon as she left the apartment, I noticed something strange: that pristine white towel, still smelling of lavender, had dark stains.
As a child, my mother would put me and my sisters in the bathroom and instruct: “Wash your folds properly. Then, let the water drain from your bodies so that the towel can be used to dry the three of you.”
On the other occasions when Darlaine visited me, I followed my ritual of using fluffy towels. Until one day I realized that the dark stains were the dye from my mermaid's hair.
Every Saturday, Dad would buy us a tray of sweets from Mário's Bakery. He always brought a little something for Mom (a set of cups… a mixer on easy installments), but one time he arrived very late carrying a package of sausages and some bleached bags, which would serve as new tablecloths. Mom didn't like the sausages for some reason. I remember chairs flying around the kitchen and seeing my father picking up that limp member that had been thrown at the door.
Dad always said during arguments, "I'm the only one who's wrong in this house." He was wrong: I wasn't either. I was impressed by how tenaciously he always repeated the same routines: the sweet sabbaths and the wedding treats.
DARLAINE continued visiting me for another summer. Perhaps because of her dwarfism complex, she would exclaim: “Wow, my dear, how big HE is!” I believed her. She found it strange the last few times that I gave her small, colorful towels. Without her asking why, I explained: “DARLAINE, I divide women into those who dye their hair and those who don’t.”
Darlaine created a successful franchise, "Darlaine Dwarf's," a men's beauty salon with an incredible proposition: all people with achondroplasia were given priority in hiring. And each female employee received a fluffy white towel on her first day of work.
This text does not necessarily reflect the opinion of Unicamp.
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