The Veríssimo Project

Honey, I swear it wasn't me. That's so ridiculous! If you were here - Hello? Hello? - look, if you were here you would see my face, inocent as the devil. What? What do you mean ironic? "As the devil" is an expression, dammit. You think I would kid around at a time like this? Hello! I swear, on my mother's grave, on our joint bank account, on our children's lives, that it wasn't me in that Carnaval photo in the Morning Paper. What? Hello! Hello! How do I know what picture? Didn't you just say... Ah, you didn't say... You hadn't said it yet... You didn't say which paper it was in. Well, ok. You aren't gonna believe this, but I saw the same picture. Don't hang up! I saw the picture and had the same reaction. I thought to myself, that guy really looks like me. Could be my twin. Now look, honey, never, in my wildest dreams, are you listening? It never crossed my mind that you would think that - baby, I'm starting to find this amusing - that that was me. For the love of God. Look, could you really see me wearing a red sarong and hawaian necklace, jumping around on the float surrounded by half-naked women? C'mon, please. And look at their faces. Honestly, you can question my fidelity, but you could at least trust my taste! What? Honey, I did not say, "red sarong." I am absolutely, positively, unequivocably sure that I only said "sarong." How could I know it was red if the picture was in black and white, right?! Hello? Hello? Don't hang up! No...look, if you hang up, it's all over. All over. You don't even have to come back from the beach. Stay there with the kids and start a fisherman's village. No, I mean it. I'm done with this. After all, if you don't trust me, there's no point to any of this. A marriage should be...what's the word? Should be rooted in mutual trust. Marriage is like a trapeze act, you need to trust each other with your eyes closed. Blindly. That's right. And you know what else? I didn't have to stay in the city during Carnaval. It was all a lie. I didn't have work piled up at the office. And you know why? To test you. Staying in the city was like doing a summersault, without a net, just to see if you would catch me. A test of our love. And you failed. You let me down. I won't even cry for help. No, no, don't interrupt me. Sorry won't cut it anymore. The next sound you hear will be of my bones breaking when I hit the ground, the hard ground of reality. Hello? I said, the next sound you hear... What? You can't hear me? What was the last thing you heard, sweetheart? Yes, I told you, I am absolutely sure I did not say "red sarong." I haven't the faintest clue of the color the sarong that bastard was wearing in the photo. You have to believe me, baby. Marriage is like a trapeze act... Yes. No. Of course. What? No. Right. When you come back you can ask... You want me to swear? Again? Well I swear. I spent Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday at the office. I didn't even see the Carnaval out the window. I came home only to shower, eat a sandwich and then went back to the office. What? You called the office? Baby, of course, the operator wasn't working, right? Ha, ha, you are too much. Look, honey? Hello? I'll be there Saturday. Give the kids a kiss for me. Help. I said, love you.

Labels: Carnaval, Rio de Janeiro