Cuando Flacco encontró a Babyanna, o ella a él, cuando se descubrieron; porque lo más fácil y lógico es pensar que ya se habían visto algunas veces, durante los recorridos acostumbrados de cada uno por la ciudad; cuando se miraron, pues, debió haber ocurrido una explosión: si no en sus cerebros sí en alguna parte de la Vía Láctea; valga la exageración, esta manera de decirlo, ¿se comprende?
Francisco Morales, Poker del hombre triste en la tarde azul.
- “Hon,” the late-middle-aged woman with the perm says. “Hon,” she says, again, louder. “HON,” again she says it, again and again until she practically screams it, her face begins to turn purple and her hair increases in size and volume until it fills most of the room. She breaks down crying after half an hour or so, still ‘hon’ning, drenched in sweat, her skin a bright violet, and that’s when you know that she has betrayed her people, and you don’t want to be around to witness her fate. You leave Hampden, never to return.
- Crabs. Three of them, prepared, spread out on a brown paper cover, ready for eating. You take your fork, but one of the crab’s pincers grasps it, pulling it out of your grasp. “Don’t be ridiculous, hon,” it whispers, in the voice of a late-middle-aged woman with a perm. Of course, how could you have been so silly? You are a born Marylander. You know how to eat crabs. Silly you.
- You are seated in the M&T Bank Stadium, with perfect seats to watch this Ravens’ home game. As per usual, the dark birds flock towards the center of the field, squawking incessantly, writhing against the binds. Coach Harbaugh hurls a football towards one of them, and the bird catches it with its sharp claws, consequently deflating the ball. Harbaugh chuckles. The football screams as it deflates. They are playing the 49ers.
- You encounter a raven in Downtown Baltimore which is capable of speech. It speaks in English and in a relatively human-sounding voice, but it seems to only be able to recite Edgar Allan Poe’s famous poem "The Raven”, over and over.
- You board an elevator, nearing the top of the Baltimore World Trade Center. You’re alone. You expect it to stop at the 28th floor, your destination, when it passes the 30th, and your elevator disconnects from the top of the pentagonal building, hovering above, still floating towards the clouds. You pass a layer of clouds and stop to discover a large flock of dark, squawking birds. One of them introduces itself as Baltimore Ravens’ quarterback, Joe Flacco.
- “Why is it called Assawoman Bay? Haha, that’s a funny name,” you say to the local, nudging his forearm with your elbow. His arm from the elbow down, consequently, disintegrates. He looks quite flustered as he fumbles to collect the dust of its remains that have just fallen to his feet. "I’m sorry, but I really have to go now.“ He excuses himself, leaving.