After 45 years of mutual absence, I met my former partner Ragonero, by chance, twice in less than a month. When I discovered that from one occasion to another he had lost noticeably – seven kilos, he confirmed – I asked him if perhaps had pasted the Kore virus into the Pachamama strain.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
– Its symptoms are an immediate freshness, rejuvenation and greater mobility of the joints, in addition to a healthy weight loss.
– And what are its disadvantages? Ragonero asked.
“That then you return to normal and you become deeply depressed,” I completed.
– Well no, not only do I not think I have contracted that virus, but I implemented a diet that has been astonishingly successful.
I reviewed my busarda with envy and I claimed that prodigy from Ragonero.
– It’s the omnomeric diet. You can eat everything: popcorn, cotton candy, caramel apple.
“I think of a caramel apple and my teeth hurt,” I confessed. But how can you lose weight eating a shopping cart? I eat lunch, dinner, and snack on celery, and still get fat.
– You have to try my Omnomeric diet: you can also eat caramelised, lupines, lollipops. But that’s not all: starches, fatty flours, expert tomato. The important thing about this diet is feeling jaded. When you can no longer eat, a process of weight loss begins that lasts until your death.
– What is produced in how long?
– Indeterminate time: according to the longevity of each one. An uncle on the part of a cousin, following this diet, died at the age of 93 with the silhouette of Iggy Pop.
“I don’t know,” I doubted. My experience reminds me of the title of Pavese: Work tires. In my case, living makes you fat.
– Try it, what can you lose. You already have a pathetic belly.
“It’s true,” I assumed. Today I nail my celery menu and tomorrow I start with the omnomeric: let it be what God wants.
Ragonero left happy like a missionary who had added an acolyte. But I kept reminiscing about an episode from the old and little known comic strip The Adventures of Fat Porcel. In the above episode, Porcel was induced to practice an exotic diet; He could eat everything: walnuts with honey, ravioli, suckling pig. Not strangely got even more fat.
At some point in the plot it was revealed that the diet was nothing more than the design of a mad scientist to bomb the world with fat, throwing them from a helicopter or plane, I no longer remember. I guess the ultimate goal was conquering the planet. Alerted, Porcel spoiled the mess.
It was a hilariously absurd idea and I remembered it gleefully for the rest of my life. In those years, comics multiplied and coexisted in kiosks; not to mention the classics –Capicúa, Eagerness, Lupine-, there were copies of Carlitos Balá, from Piluso, from Minguito Tinguitela, of weekly or biweekly appearance.
A magazine stall was a quarry of philosopher’s stones. I read them all, I am not exaggerating: from Jaimito’s mischief to the animal soccer team anticipating the 1978 World Cup, Gatin (referring to Gatti, who was not the goalkeeper of ’78 in the end).
Who would have been the scriptwriter for that particular episode of The Adventures of Fat Porcel? The editor of the magazine, would you have questioned his occurrence?
Now, from the mists of time, a diet very similar to that of his inspiration simply came to me. I decided to practice it moderately: if I found a cart of popcorn, I would try caramelized figs. Ragonero sent me a later WhatsApp advising to add 10 minutes of daily exercise: do the vertical. I changed it for a forty minute walk.
In the days that followed I became more and more enthusiastic about the Omnomeric diet. I did not come across any centrifuge cart to make cotton wool, but I stole through Mercado Libre: caramelised, chuenga, Japanese peanuts and caramelized apple (there were no figs). Soon I weighed twenty kilos more that since my meeting with Ragone, just in two weeks.
One of the most difficult verifications to assimilate was that in each forty-minute walk I gained a couple of grams. But if he didn’t walk, he also got fat. I used various exercises: handrail, box and mat, kicking a medicine ball. Nothing worked. I couldn’t stop thinking about that fat Porcel cartoon, essentially who the scriptwriter would have been.
As part of my exercises -which could already be called fattening-, I headed towards Parque Rivadavia.
The old rotunda still held treasures from my childhood, like an everlasting magazine kiosk. Along the longest avenue in the world, walking immersed in my memories, I pondered that the virtual mode had functionally replaced many of my readings on paper, but not the comics: I could only read them in their analogue version.
And precisely there it was, as if waiting for me, the vertical format of The Adventures of Gordo Porcel -that I erroneously evoked landscape- under a Isidore’s follies, just behind an endless pylon of Hijitus.
I asked the elderly salesman, probably even more remote in time than the rotunda, whose face was unexpectedly familiar, if he knew who the scriptwriter of The Adventures of Fat Porcel, or at least the episode of the human bombs. I think vanity sold it – like almost all of us-:
“A certain Ragon,” he whispered.
He had not quite revealed this disturbing detail to me, when I realized that was being followed (fortunately, in one of the Lupine from the 1970s, he had taken the detective course by correspondence). Who but Ragonero and two henchmen, also from my primary school?
The rotunda vendor’s eyes lit up with vile malice. The blades of a helicopter split the sky. I ran as best I could (not much, given my overweight). They would use me to conquer the world! However, in the chase, we both pretended that there was no rivalry between us, and agitated I questioned him:
– Ragonero, the omnomeric diet did not make me lose one gram. Conversely…
“It’s not Omnomeric!” Muttered Ragonero. It is without an accent: Omnomerica. You misunderstood.
The persecution continued its course, with dire prospects on my part.
I walked down the stairs to the Acoyte subway station and a law enforcement officer arrested me for not wearing a chinstrap. How little did I know, this noble servant, that by warning me I had saved Earth from an unforeseeable threat. I pointed out my pursuers. Once exposed, they would not try again: as in the comic, it was a plan that required absolute secrecy.
I returned to the celery, not without some disappointment. When I least expected it, life had allowed me to live one of the adventures of my past characters. I continued to gain weight, but no longer afraid of raising my eyes to the sky and finding a means of locomotion willing to use me as a weapon to dominate humanity.
Reference from clarin