The Cathedral Mall
Mois Benarroch
Translated by P Diane Schneider
“The Cathedral Mall”
Written By Mois Benarroch
Copyright © 2015 Mois Benarroch
All rights reserved
Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.
www.babelcube.com
Translated by P Diane Schneider
Cover Design © 2015 Alan Green
“Babelcube Books” and “Babelcube” are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
At the Mall
The old man
The old lady
Sandoval and the old man
The old man and the old lady
The flight
The Escape
Home sweet home?
Sandoval hits the road
The soldier
The other Sandra
Danger
The story
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At the Mall
Buying is healthy. Buying is living. Buy more! Buy even more! For your future, for posterity! Buying is the future!
The announcement was blaring over the loudspeakers as Sandra and Sandoval shopped at La Catedral Mall. It was called La Catedral because before being converted into a shopping center it had been a cathedral. It is said that before it was a cathedral it had been a mosque and before it was a mosque it had been a medieval synagogue. It was the oldest building in the city and had been converted into the most modern. The two were going to leave but saw in the exit queue there was a guard who was searching bags of those leaving. Those who had not purchased anything were not allowed to leave.
"Come back Ma'am, people don't come here to play. They come here to buy. "
"But I came to buy shoes and they don't have my size."
"Well then, buy something else."
"But I don't need anything else."
"Ma'am, you need to buy, and the country needs you to buy. See, there are people waiting in line. Rules are rules. If you don't buy, you don't leave here."
Others were told by the comptroller they had not purchased enough.
"Look, this time I'll let you pass but if you keep coming to La Catedral to buy one loaf of bread we won't let you come back in."
"But what if I bought two?"
"Not even two. Buy shoes like this lady."
Both of them turned around to find something else to buy.
“We can’t keep coming here you know. I’m getting so tired of this. Every time they want you to buy more and more. All the stores around here are closing because people don’t have any money left.”
“You know very good and well there isn’t any other way. If we aren’t seen here at La Catedral it’s like we were dead.”
The living were divided between those who bought every day , sometimes two times a day, where in the morning the woman would come alone or with the man, then evenings with their children . Behind them were those who would buy up to the 22nd of the month because that is when their money would run out. The poorer ones would only buy up to the tenth or eleventh of the month. If you didn’t show your face by the 20th people would not talk to you as much. Fewer and fewer people would talk to you.
On the 25th, the discounts would begin and would end on the 1st of the next month.
Buy folks! Buy a little of everything! Buy some oranges, some saffron, buy some freezers, buy MP3, buy hors d'oeuvres and buy shoes! Purchasing is the future!
“And this here, what is it?”
“It’s a widget.”
“So, what is a widget?”
“It’s completely recyclable.”
“But what IS it?” asked Sandra excitedly, while Sandoval was losing patience.
“It is what it is, nothing. But it’s recyclable. And they’ll let you leave. You pay me 10 and I’ll give you a receipt for 100. When you go out you can leave it there and I’ll sell it over again. See? Recyclable. ”
“Well, it does have its charm. I like it,” said Sandra, the big spender.
“It...ba...”
“But what if they open the box?” The doormen are getting really insolent.”
“If you go out door A7 you won’t have any problem. The doorman has been bribed.”
“Yeah, everything is for sale.”
“And if you don’t buy it, it isn’t worth anything.”
Smoke babe. Buy tobacco and wine. Cancer is good for the economy. If you get cancer you will receive a bonus so you can buy more. For your complete indulgence we have now opened a hospital on the tenth floor.
At first La Catedral had only two floors, but additional, connecting buildings were built. Office buildings, schools, hospitals, government offices, everything was accessible only through La Catedral. You just had to go in through the businesses and buy, entering and leaving.
“OK give me a widget.”
“A widget for the gentleman.”
An elderly man was in the café across from there, an old man of eighty years who had heard everything and never forgot anything.
He remembered seventy years prior his father had purchased his life with the money he had and that he himself had saved his own by offering his body. It seemed to him that everything had gone back to how it was during war time.
To buy is to live. Dead people don’t buy. To die is to cease to buy. That is why our hospitals have the best doctors in the world. So you can stay alive and keep buying.
The Elder knew all of this by heart now. Sandoval focused on the old guy who in a few hours would save his life and thought he was ugly and disagreeable. He hated him even worse as he thought that one day he would be like him. Or worse, more frail, sick, less sturdy. The old guy would sit there every day from eight am when they opened La Catedral and all the businesses at the same instant, and he would leave at twelve thirty at night when it was closed.
“Buy! And if you already bought, buy something more. There is always something you need or want. Something that will make your life better until your next purchase. Buy more. And you’d better buy in La Catedral.”
Two police ran after a woman whose panties showed above her pants. They were red panties over white fabric. Part of her rear was exposed to the air. Two women walked their babies in blue strollers, both the same. They looked like sisters but they were not. Sandoval contemplated. Sandra purchased.
Shop till you drop! And if you get tired, buy something more. Buy something to re-energize you. Buy pills to wake you up. Buy more and more for your children’s economic future.
The old man
The old guy had an expression that he had seen it all and that pissed off Sandoval completely. “He thinks he knows everything”, he thought to himself. “He can go to hell.”
“Sandra, I’m fed up. Let’s go.” The old fellow observed Sandoval and threw him the look of comprehension which made Sandoval more nervous.
“How many shoes do you need girl, you didn’t inherit a chain of shoe stores. I can’t deal with any more shoes. There are shoes everywhere.”
“And what about your cds?...shit!” said Sandra
When the bad guys arrived, the old man’s father had been in a bad part of the world. The bad guys wanted to eradicate his race. That seemed like something normal to them. The old man’s father had married late, at age forty six, to a woman twenty years younger. He realized in time what was coming and asked his best friend, who wasn’t a member of the same race they intended to annihilate. He was told it would be best to go into hiding until the war was over, or until the killers cool
ed down.
Either this would blow over, or they would lose, or something else. The old man’s father gave all the money he had to his friend and the friend found him an acquaintance that was willing to rent him a secret basement that he had out on a farm, for triple the price of course. At the time this seemed logical because he had the money and due to the danger. But one thing more, said the owner. I will have access to all the females. The females were his mother, his wife and his two daughters. Nobody thought at the time that his son would also be considered a female six months later. The “female” most desired. The payments were made monthly through his friend. Signed by his own hand. The old man’s mother died two years after the war was over. His father absorbed it all and lived to the age of ninety five and six months. The owner of the basement was awarded a commemorative plaque for having saved the old man’s family. The old man hated the whole world but he couldn’t talk about what had happened to him; even less after two months of having relations with the basement man – that is what they called him – especially since he started to like it. And when it was all over and he was fourteen years old it was the best memory he took from the basement, the way the man caressed him when his parents were no longer able to love.
Buy folks! Buy today! Buy tomorrow! Buy today for tomorrow! And tomorrow for later, all on credit, all for twelve payments! Buy for the future!
Such is life, thought both the old man and the young one at the same time. That is what life is and there is no way to think it could be anything else. The old man thought of wars, hypocrisy and butts. The young man thought about boobs and plastic surgery.
Sandra had good breasts and a good butt. This did not go unnoticed by the old man who enjoyed seeing feminine beauty although what he really missed was the cock that country boy had had and his first love. He never again loved a man and for years didn’t even think about it but the memory came back the day his wife died. It was the first day of the year after shopping two and a half years prior. He would masturbate daily thinking of that man who had been dead so many years - twenty four to be exact. Nobody in the family talked about that time. His sisters never said anything about the sexual relations they had with the ghost of the basement...and he didn’t ask. Maybe they hadn’t. And it was he and his ass that had saved the whole family. Salvation through an ass ... he chuckled inside. If anybody told about that ...fuck...and he began laughing again. I’m going to tell one of my grandsons, with unforgettable details. They think we suffered so much. Well, we did suffer a lot but there were moments of tenderness and I can’t forget them. It would be better I tell someone, or if I write it..,
That is why he carried a notebook and a ball point to the café every morning but he didn’t write anything. He preferred watching the girls’ butts. But he was afraid to open the notebook which he had found at the end of the war in another basement the farmer had. He probably had more, or he had built them because it was a good business for him. Maybe he charged for holding those of his race and later earned as an informant as well. But he and his family made it through to the end and were saved, or something like that.
If you’re a child, buy. If you are a youth, buy. If you are an adult, buy. If you are old, buy. If you are male, buy. If you are female, buy. If you are gay, buy. If you are human, buy. Animals don’t buy. Long live the buyers!
We are humans because we buy. That is what Sandoval thought and so that is what he said out loud. The old man now focused more on Sandoval and on Sandra and he liked both their butts which were very similar. Both had on blue jeans of the same brand which they had purchased two for the price of one on the 27th of last month. It was time to throw them away. They had money and they had to buy more. The old man had more money than both of them. He had made his fortune by marrying a rich woman who was an only child. And after they were married two years her parents had died in a traffic accident. Their Mercedes E280 had gone underneath a truck of, coincidentally, the same brand. Besides the money they had left him, which was in itself a goodly sum, he received a secret indemnization from Mercedes-Benz when the old man announced that he had found a flaw in all the automobiles and he was going to file litigation. He never had to say what flaw he had found. The check arrived by mail in less than a month. Since then he would buy. He was a good consumer. Above all he would buy Havana cigars because this helped a poor economy. He liked Monte Cristo, Partagas and José Cuervos.
Two female police officers ran after a fiftyish woman who was getting rid of a pair of shoes with heels. The old guy liked these things. That way they would buy better shoes it was said. His son had a shoe factory. Steve. That was the name of his son. I’ll have to take this seriously, thought the old guy, and stop staring at little girls’ butts. I have to open the notebook and start writing. Once upon a time there was a war. But then the waiter arrived. “Would the gentleman like something else?”
“Well, I...”
“You need to consume, sir, if you don’t they will fire me even though I have been serving very well for more than a year, right?
“Oh, no, not that, I was just thinking about the war.”
“A war for the gentleman!” shouted the owner from behind the bar.
“And what is that?”
But the waiter had already gone off to another table where there was seated an old lady the old man hated because she resembled his wife, like all old ladies, and he didn’t need any more inheritances. He didn’t know that this same hated old woman was going to save his life. The waiter used the same blackmail- that they were going to fire him.
“Ramón, here is the war for the gentleman.”
Ramón ran over and came back in less than a second.
“Your war, sir.”
It was something that wavered between a sangría and gazpacho and the old guy didn’t dare drink it.
The waiter stayed by his side.
“If you don’t mind, you know that here you must pay when served. A lot of folks run off. I know you wouldn’t but it’s the rules. You remember don’t you?”
“Well, no. I had forgotten. At my age one forgets more than he ever learned in his life. Here is your money, young man.”
“Nothing is left from my youth, not even my cock.”
“Don’t talk like that sir, eighty years is a long time for a cock.”
“It’s a lot of years.”
And he left.
The old man downed his war in one gulp.
.
The waiter told him the next war was on the house, (and another one at half price since it had been a long time since anyone had ordered a war.) That is what the boss said. Before the old man could answer the waiter was back with two wars and the bill, which was for the half- price war or, that is, half of what he had paid for the first war.
“You see, two wars for the price of a half, four for the price of one, and eight for the price of two.”
The old guy paid right away and gave him a tip.
“Now, you will let me have a minute here as I want to write something.”
“There will be war.”
”That’s right.”
This time the old guy started drinking slowly but his inspiration faded and he couldn’t remember the brilliant phrase to start his book...once there was a war, the phrase of the biggest bestsellers of all time, nothing better than a war to sell books.
I could have whispered it to him, or Young Sandoval or Sandra who, even though she knew nothing of wars, she knew a lot about bestsellers.
As the old man calmly sipped, the old lady spied him from the corner of her eye and realized he reminded her of her husband, whom she hated, but many years before he had been a first rate lover. That was before he started taking the blood pressure pills and lost all his sexual turgor. That is what the old lady thought about. The filthy pig.
The old lady looked to be about seventy eight seven months, four days and seven hours. In reality she was already seventy nine, two months, one day and seven hours old. And now she was recalling whe
n she used to go out on the street with a long skirt and no panties in the time the French used to call les années folles. And which she used to call the fuggin years and she wondered if the old man also had taken those blood pressure pills that also took away the erection. Of course if you wanted, afterward they would sell you the erection pills. These pills her husband couldn’t tolerate them because when he took them he had side effects that no doctor could believe. And that was it gave him the urge to eat his own balls - so much so that he nearly broke his spinal column before he was given a tranquilizer and put to sleep. But he didn’t stop trying to tomcat around so finally they had to do it with a vibrator like those one buys in the small square in Satan’s Basement.
I might like a blow job, at least, thought both of the old folks at once. But without talking much, just suck, nothing more.
This war seems to have a very odd flavor. I don’t know if I’m going to have anything like that again. I don’t dare even to ask if it has alcohol in it because probably the boss would send me another war, so I’d better keep quiet and sip it slowly.
“So, what flavor is that?” asked the old lady.
The old guy pretended to be deaf, which disappointed the writer very much as he had hoped to insert a dialogue with mother fucker, with about seven thousand words that he has in another file and which he wouldn’t even have to go to the effort of writing it out here. But getting a word out of the old guy was like trying to get blood out of a turnip and he didn’t answer the old gal.
.
Not even if they paid me. And nobody is paying me for this. Here I am spending my own money trying to write something and I can’t get a word on paper. I am not talking to this gal.
The old lady was feeling excited and was thinking about the roaring twenties when she had a lame lover , well, young and just a bit lame, actually very lame because he had lost a leg in the war and he didn’t fuck very well either, no better than her husband, nor was he such a great love.
But she had the urge to have a lover and this is what fell from the sky so that is what the old lady was not going to give up. Well the dialogue prepared by the writer wouldn’t work for this part but she got up and went over to the table of this old guy who didn’t take blood pressure pills. I, doctor, don’t put any pills in my mouth even if they would pay me. And on top of that they want me to give money to these witch doctors.
The Cathedral Mall Page 1
