Pas de Chocolat s.v.p…// Please No Chocolate
Je me stationne à un mètre du DAB de la Bank of Scotland. C’est Marios qui donne les ordres_ et les coups. Il est mon cousin, mais il traite tout le monde de la même façon. Tu dois semer la culpabilité chez ces salauds utilisant la machine à sous. S’ils te donnent des pennies, tu leur lances un regard de mépris en disant merci, sans cacher la menace que tu peux leur jeter un mauvais sort. Ils ont peur de nos pouvoirs.
De toute manière il garde deux-tiers de mes recettes. Je te laisse garder un tiers de mes gains, dit-il. Neuf passants sur dix ne nous regardent même pas quand nous les saluons.
En hiver c’est pénible de sortir de sous la couverture le matin.
‘Ama,’ il crie, ‘c’est justement quand ça caille, quand il pisse, quand il fait du vent que tu dois être dehors, pour culpabiliser ces putains de bourgeois.
Si on est en retard, il y a une amende, et des coups sur la tête. Il a même essayé de m’étrangler une fois.
La fin de l’année est une période faste pour nous, mais ce jeudi là il faisait un temps de chien, avec peu de monde dans les rues, et je n’ai réalisé que quatre-vingt cinq pence, mais un bon Samaritain m’a donné un paquet de Galaxy, que j’ai dévoré en moins de deux pour me chauffer.
Quand Marios vit mes recettes, il est devenu fou de rage. J’étais une voleuse, cria-t-il. Mais il finit par sortir sa calculatrice et déclara que sa part s’élevait à 56,66, c.a.d. cinquante-sept pence. Il me remit 18 pence, continuant à m’enguêler et à ma tabasser. J’ai fini par avouer pour le Galaxy.
Il saisit alors ma main et arracha de force les 18 pence qu’il m’avait remis.
Un paquet de Galaxy, ça fait £1.50, dit-il, donc tu me dois £1. Ça fait 82 pence pour demain.
Mais Marios, le Galaxy coute soixante pence_
Il m’a tourné le dos sans m’entendre.
English Version
Please No Chocolate
I usually sit one metre from the cash machine outside the Bank of Scotland. That’s Marios’ orders. No choice, must do what he says, or else! Although he is my cousin, he treats me the same as everybody else. You make the people using the machine feel guilty so they give. When they give you pennies, he says, nod you head, say thank you, but put on a menacing air. They’re afraid of the gipsy curse. In any case, whatever I earn he takes two-thirds. I allow you to keep one-third, he says happily. In think he expects me to give him a medal. Nine out of ten people don’t even look at you when you say “Hiya” as they pass. It costs nothing to say “Hiya” back, but we are dirt to them.
In winter it is difficult to get up in the morning.
‘Ama,’ he screams at me, ‘it is when it is cold and windy and rainy that you need to be out there, to make those sons of bitches feel guilty.’
If you’re late, he fines you. That’s one thing he is generous with, fines. And slaps and knocks on the head with his knuckle. He once tried to strangle me.
Christmas is usually a lucrative period for us, but that Thursday, it was windy and cold, and the snow was one foot deep, the takings were awful, because the few people about could not be bothered to take a coin from their warm pockets. So I went home with eighty-five pence. A record low. But one good Samaritan had given me a packet of Galaxy chocolate, which I had gobbled up to keep warm.
Marios flew into a rage when I handed over my takings. He took out his calculator, and said that his share had come to 56.66 pence, fifty-seven! And he handed over 18 pence to me. But he immediately started hitting me on the head, shouting that I was a thief, that I should try harder. To make him stop I told him about the Galaxy. He grabbed my hand and snatched the eighteen pence he had put there, looked at me, and came out with:
‘A packet of Galaxy, that’s £1.50. So, that’s eighty-two p you owe me on that. I’ll charge you tomorrow.’
‘Galaxy only cost sixty p_’ I whispered, but he had already walked away.
