Carnival of Blood and some Very Angry Nuns

‘So I was dancing away like a nutter, you know, in the middle of it all, and I feel this shove, this guy, he- pushes me, and I turn round and it’s some guy without his clothes on, all bloody, round the mouth, like someone had smacked him in the mouth or something,’ said the girl who looked like a broken fairy. ‘And then we’ve got these mates, right, and they sell stuff on a stall, they have their own stall in like, the Rastro there, and they sell clothes and stuff. Well, my mate, he put his hand into this bucket of second hand clothing and pulled it all out, all these second hand fancy dress things, and it was all covered in blood!’

‘Jesus.’ Muttered the Ponce, turning his dishevelled head to her. ‘I thought it was supposed to be all friendly and nice.’

‘Oh, yeah, absolutely, I mean, it’s the best in the world, you know.’ She shook her head vigorously, bangs falling across her angular face on one side, the other side exposed, half-shaven along the delicate incline of her scalp. She was pretty, she had triangular features, alert eyes, like a bird’s face, that in other times, under other circumstances, could have been that of a b-movie actress.

‘Well, that’s Canarias for you,’ she shrugged and brought the joint to her lips, talking through it like a seamstress with a mouthful of pins. ‘In Brazil they do nothing but make love all Carnival, it’s when the majority of Brazilians ore conceived, they’re at it like mad. Here we beat the shit out of each other. There was this other day, right? Must have been Tuesday…? Near the end anyway, we’d been out for about two days with these massive Polish guys, wow, they were like our bodyguards, they kept an eye on us, and we all had a right laugh, anyway, I was dancing like this, you should have seen me, it was tops, man, it was brilliant, I was like this-‘ She leapt from her seat, a flash of bright stripey tights and leg-warmers, her short ra-ra skirt fanning out in layers of cotton, nylon, and stiff denim, and she bobbed around with her arms flailing for a second, grinning like a puppet for our benefit. She had little, narrow-wristed arms like wooden pegs, and her t-shirt pulled tight across the curved belly of an almost-child. Then she plumped herself back down on the sofa beside the Ponce, his slumped body, which was showing little signs of life. Beside this blur of energy he was like a withered balloon.

‘Then we turned this corner, and I swear to God, we found these four guys, four guys, right? Half of their clothes missing, one of them was just in his pants, I think, and all of them covered in blood, round the head, all round here.’ She waved a hand around her jaw vaguely.

‘Yeah. It was horrible. I was off my head as well. You don’t want to see that, do you? When you’re off your head like that.’

‘Happy Carnival. So what happened, what was that all about?’

‘The police, I reckon, someone said it was the pigs. Tried to break up a fight or something, some bloke was trying to kick the crap out of some other bloke, at some afters, and it got a bit out of hand and the pigs all piled in and… it just sort of kicked off. Bit of a shame, really, we were having a really good time.’

‘Did you hear about those nuns, then, the other day?’ said the boy with the slightly crooked face and Roman nose, who always wore his trousers directly under his buttocks, so from the side they looked like a cloth-wrapped peach. He was handsome and beefy, gentle-natured. He had asked me for my Facebook profile the night of my birthday party, which had made me smile.

‘Er… nuns?’

‘Yeah, the ones that got robbed.’

‘What are you talking about? Where? Who robbed a load of nuns?’

‘A million and a half,’ he nodded sagely, his mouth curling in on itself. ‘Can you believe it? A million and a half sodding euros!’

‘Yeah, and that’s what gets me-‘ added his friend, the shorter kid with the eighties floppy hairdo.’ Where do a load of nuns get that sort of money?’

‘Yeah! And what are they doing keeping it in the convent?’

‘They got robbed in the convent?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Who? Did they, like …. break in?’

He shrugged. Details were to be glossed over; they were not permitted to interfere with the telling of the story. Perhaps they were unknown to anyone but the Sisters.

‘Some robbers, I suppose. They got into the convent and they took a million and a half. The nuns reckon they earned that from doing paintings. Paintings!’ he shook his head, almost with admiration. ‘They paint virgins or something, the little old ladies can’t get enough of the stuff.’

‘Yeah. They must have been dealing drugs to get that kind of money. They had plastic bags full of the stuff!’

‘Oh, spare me. Going overtime with the cakes and pastries…. ’

‘The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.’

‘He does indeed, he does indeed.‘

From laprensa.com 08 de marzo de 2011

SPAIN-ROBBERY

$2 Million stolen from Spanish convent

Zaragoza, Spain, Mar 8 (EFE).- Police are investigating the suspected robbery of 1.5 million euros ($2 million) from the Santa Lucia convent in northern Spain, officials sources told Efe Tuesday.

The Cistercian community kept the funds in cash at the convent, officials said, adding that the investigation began last week after nuns reported the missing money on Feb. 28, most of it in 500-euro notes.

Police and a district court in Zaragoza, which is leading the investigation, are not only delving into the supposed theft but also into the origin of the money, which, the nuns told the officers, they kept in plastic bags in a closet, the daily El Periodico de Aragon said Tuesday.

In this religious community, known for its dedication, among other occupations, to the restoration of old books and parchments, lives Isabel Guerra, “the painter nun,” whose works are in great demand and command high prices, the newspaper said.

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