A Day like Any Other

Abstract

A Day Like Any Other A storybyQuirnMonzo The compulsive liar has spent an hour on his terrace, soaking up the sun. It's a pleasant feeling after a cold winter, but a moment comes when all that sun makes him feelqueasy. He puts a hand over his eyes, gets up fromthe lounger,goes inside, slips on a shirtand jacket, and walks out into the street. While he's crossing the esplanade, he stares at the abandoned car that'sbeen parked by the football ground for two years and now has neither wheels nor doors. Why thehell don't theymove itand turn it into scrap metal? A heron flies low over the cemetery. He turns leftand takes the long, sloping road. 42 I World Literature Today He walks past the bar halfway along; he stopswhen he's about to leave it well behind. He wonders for a moment whether to go in or not and finally decides he will: he pushes the door and lets out a general "bon dia," aimed at the owner and some domino players. He leans on the bar and orders a beer. The waiter serves him and, inevitably, asks how life's treatinghim. The liar sayswell and gulps at his beer. His mustache is coated white. The radio, slightly off frequency, is blaring out a melody punctuated with sounds usually used to express pain. He watches the domino game for a while. One of the players asks him ifhe wants to join in thenext one, and he waves a hand to indicate he doesn't. He turns round, takes another gulp ofbeer, and gazes at the Russian salad under the glass cover. The gold-to brownish hue of themayonnaise makes him feel like ordering a portion. The owner sees him look ing itsway and asks him ifhe wants some. The liar says he doesn't, because ifhe eats something now he won't want dinner and his wife will nag. The owner smiles because it's a standard joke: the liar isn't married, lives alone and always makes an imaginarywife his excuse.When, for instance,he wants to leave and theothers insisthe has one for the road orwhen theysay he should play football with them on Sunday and he doesn't feel like it. He sometimes adds in children for good mea sure: a girlwho, depending on theday, oscillates between threeand seven years old and a boywho initiallydidn't exist and is now even older than his sister. The owner washes a glass under the tap and is about to follow theirritual and extend the liar's joke about thewould-be wife by asking him whose wife, given he doesn't have one. But before he can open his mouth, the liar asks him loudly?so everyone can hear?if he's seen the circus they're setting up on the esplanade. The owner isnow drying theglass. Nobody answers. The liar turns to face thedomino players and con tinues in the same vein: there are two lorries and a huge trailerlikea cage. One of theplayers raises an eyebrow, looks at him, and says, of course thereare. The liarpretends tobe indignant:what does he mean "of course"? Is he implying it'snot true?He swears they're settingup a circus on the esplanade. He's seen the letters on the ground made frombulbs thatwill soon lightup on the signboard on the tent: Russian circus. The tent, he now adds, is almost erected. There are four lor ries. No, five, not four. And six cages: with lions and tigers.And three elephants: big as houses. The domino players have finished theirgame and stare at him in astonishment: how can he be try ing tomake thembelieve yet another of his lies? However much goodwill theymight feel, how could theybelieve aman who always lies, who lies even when there's no need to lie and won't reap any benefit fromdoing so? Their disbelief doesn't waver for a moment or give way to doubt, but, as always happens, the liar speaks so convincingly and so heatedly that, as usual, they don't start to believe him but are fascinated by thepassion with which he tells and elaborates his...