Hello and welcome back to the Explora Natura blog. Today we bring you a new Andresín adventure to read at home. Enjoy this story with your family, and for your well-being and everyone else's, #StayHome.
Tit for tat
Although Andresín had been calmer since being hired by the City Hall, his voracious instinct remained intact. He could have transformed into a more polite young man, opening the door for elderly people at the City Hall, greeting them on the street, and even helping his neighbors with their shopping bags. Especially if there was a small tip at stake in the form of a piece of chocolate, an apple, or simply a chunk of crusty, freshly baked bread from the Porras family bakery.
But whatever you did, nobody should even think about leaving a cake to cool by the window if the boy was going to walk by that day. It was bound to disappear down your throat without a single bite.
–For my tummy! –Andresín used to say after shoving the last piece of whatever some neighbor had kindly taken into his mouth.
And although the inhabitants of San Marcos were grateful to the boy for being the undeniable reason the Town Hall was now functioning smoothly, they weren't willing to continue allowing their food supplies to be constantly threatened. So, a group of neighbors, who had frequently been punished by Andresín's hungry figure because of his proximity to their homes, decided to teach him a little lesson.
It wasn't about hurting him, because the boy had a heart as big as his belly. Rather, it was about making him understand that he couldn't just wander around the neighborhood kitchens, ruining lunch or dinner for an entire family.
The first to speak out was his next-door neighbor, Doña Engracia. Ever since, at the age of four, she'd laughed at Andresín's chubby little hand trying to grab some of the cookies she'd put out to cool by the window, she'd had a constant barrage of bites, which grew worse as the boy got older. Cakes, pies, sweet potatoes, sausages… even a chicken stew that he practically gutted.
– I suggest putting one of those ribs they use for catching small birds on it. Cover it with a couple of crackers and… Bam! Purple fingers for a month.
"But Engracia, don't be so cruel. That could cause him serious harm, and the point is to teach him a lesson, not break his fingers," protested Luisón, the grocer, another of her many victims.
– I meant adding the rib but reducing the force on the springs. That way, it won't do much harm.
– Then it's no good, he'd eat the cookies and take even the rib.
Since it has a food name…
– Luisón reproached.
– Ha, ha, ha. – Everyone gathered there burst into laughter.
“I think,” continued Lusión, “it would be a good idea to leave a tortilla—one of those that gives off an irresistible smell of egg, potato, and onion—on the table in my shop. I’d put a bucket of water and flour on the door and leave it spotless.”.
Judging by their eyes, a good portion of those gathered there agreed with the shopkeeper's proposal, but it was quickly dismissed for compelling reasons.
“I see three problems with what you’re proposing, Luisón,” said Mrs. Lucía, a neighbor from a nearby street who, because of the height of her balcony, had been visited by the young man more times than she would have liked. She still remembered the number of muffins she had baked for the Easter festivities a few years back, of which she only managed to eat one. Perhaps she didn’t see it, perhaps she had eaten one hundred and twenty-four and was too full to burst, or perhaps she simply left it on purpose. The fact is, in the end, she had to buy them at the bakery.
– Tell us, Mrs. Lucia – Luisón invited her to express her disagreement.
– You see, first of all… have you thought about what would happen if, due to some unfortunate circumstance, a neighbor came in before Andresín? For example, one of the Franciscan nuns who often do their shopping at your store.
The grimace on Luisón's face made it clear that he hadn't considered that possibility and that it would be a real problem.
– Secondly – the lady continued. – however scared she might be, she'd end up taking the tortilla anyway, since it would be Tomasa who would get the fright, as she's the one who would have to wash those clothes.
The murmur of those gathered seemed to confirm Mrs. Lucia's point.
– And finally, if you throw water and flour on this boy, he's able to knead it a little and eat it raw.
– Ha, ha, ha. –They all laughed again.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," Don Martín said, requesting permission to speak. "Deep down, this is amusing, but I'm afraid we're not going to get anywhere like this.".
Don Martín was an educated man who had run the pharmacy in San Marcos de la Jara since he was a boy. In his late fifties, his clear green eyes had seen, week after week, how Andresín would sneak in and take a box of those pills they called "Juanola." Since it was a small expense, they never said anything to him, but it was clear that it wasn't right, especially when it was added to the other petty thefts by passersby.
– I propose something that will make him sit down and think. The idea of using that tortilla as bait is quite good, though with a slight modification to the trap. That way, no one other than a petty tortilla thief will be harmed.
"You tell us, Don Martín," the attendees at that meeting almost unanimously chanted.
– Like I said, I'd put that steaming, appetizing tortilla on Luisón's shop table. It's clear that Tomasa's son won't be long in getting up to his old tricks. Besides, under the tortilla itself, covered with plastic, I'd leave him a note so that when he sat down to think about it, he'd understand everything.
Everyone gathered there listened attentively.
– The note would read: “Andrés Pérez, as you have probably noticed, you have taken something that wasn't yours, and for that reason, and as punishment, you are lying prostrate in a cold sweat. The people of your town love you. We know you have a big heart, but we don't want you to behave like a common thief. When you want something, just ask for it, and you will surely be given it gladly. But if you take it brazenly, in the end, you will inevitably be hated. We hope that when you recover from your current state, you will behave like a good, respectful, and polite young man.”.
– Bravo! – They exclaimed almost in unison.
Almost, because Mrs. Lucia was asking to speak again.
– That's all very nice. Here you all are jumping for joy as if Andresín were going to pay any attention to a note that says what he already knows perfectly well. He'll couldn't care less.
The attendees' joy was severely dampened by Mrs. Lucia's words. "It's not that I want to be pessimistic, but... am I wrong?"
They all nodded, turning their heads questioningly toward Don Martín. He, with a broad smile, said, "You didn't let me finish. When the boy notices the tortilla and sees the note with his name on it, he'll take it and put it away without even thinking about reading it. But what you don't know is what will make him sit down and think. Well, this time the tortilla will have one more ingredient. I'll prepare it at the pharmacy, and they'll add it to the beaten eggs.".
– Which ingredient are you referring to? – Luisón asked.
– A powerful laxative that will have him squatting for a week. Then, out of boredom, he'll end up reading the note.
The commotion that ensued, amidst nervous laughter and voices demanding more information, was tremendous.
"But...it won't be dangerous for the boy, will it?" asked Juan de Dios, the man with the candy stand. "He's been taking my sweets and candies all his life, but I don't want anything bad to happen to him.".
– That's it, that's it. –The rest chanted.
"Don't worry," Don Martín said. "It's a natural remedy I prepare at the pharmacy, and apart from a few bad stomach cramps, the boy will be fine. Just make sure he has somewhere to sit, because that thing doesn't give any warning and it doesn't have any friends.".
– Ha, ha, ha. –They burst into laughter again, this time including Mrs. Lucia and Luisón.
The chosen day was Saturday morning. That way, the poor lad could, God willing, go to work on Monday. Around ten o'clock, a tantalizing aroma wafted from Luisón's shop window, inviting passersby to come inside. Every neighbor recognized the distinctive scent of egg, potato, and onion. Everyone who walked by had their mouth watering and had to swallow hard to keep going.
Andresín slept peacefully. He lay across the bed with one leg dangling, hugging his pillow, the sheets strewn across the floor. A soft snore accompanied the ebb and flow of his deep breaths until suddenly, his rhythm changed. Now his nose had taken over, not to breathe, but to smell. In fact, he went a few moments without taking a breath, his lungs struggling for oxygen.
It woke him up with a start. He swallowed all the saliva he had accumulated while sleeping, smelling of freshly made omelet, and jumped up in front of the bedroom window, his mouth watering.
"Goodness me! Luisón really outdid himself today! What a fantastic potato omelet he must have made!" she exclaimed to herself. "I'm going to peek and see if I can grab a piece. It's probably huge, and Luisón is so tiny.".
Having said that, he got dressed and without wasting a moment was already hovering near the store entrance. Moreover, he felt lucky. The door was open with a sign pinned to it that bore some words meant for him, words that were incredibly magical:
– “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”.
Without a second thought, he went into the shop and bought the tortilla, plate and all. Climbing the stairs to his bedroom, he devoured a generous portion. Once in his room, sitting on the bed with the tortilla on the nightstand, he began to feast.
"Oh my goodness, this tortilla is amazing! Thank you, Luisón!" she whispered so no one could hear, nearly choking on her laughter with her mouth full. "But this tortilla deserves to be done right.".
And having said this, he hurried down to the kitchen, returning in a flash with a generous loaf of crusty bread, a knife, a fork, and a large napkin that was already hanging from his shirt collar like a bib.
– Now we're talking! This is something we have to enjoy properly.
Halfway through the tortilla, she thought it wouldn't hurt to give her some water because she was starting to choke. So she went back down to the kitchen to get a pitcher and a glass.
"Andrés! You know I don't like you eating in the bedroom. You eat in the dining room or the kitchen," Tomasa scolded him. "That's why you're with that kind of 'picaor' you have.".
"It's just a little tapa, nothing special." And without waiting for an answer, she headed towards her room.
He hadn't even reached the fifth step when his stomach started acting strangely. Like it had turned inside out, just like a cement mixer. Without giving it much thought, he concentrated on the task at hand. A piece of tortilla, a shovelful of bread, and a sip of water, and just like that, in less time than it takes to think about it, Andresín had devoured a potato and onion tortilla, made with eight eggs and a few variations on Don Martín's recipe.
Chewing the last piece of bread, he noticed a small note on the tray that read: –“For Andrés Pérez”.
That annoyed him a little at first. If he had known, he wouldn't have stolen it; after all, it was for him. And now he'd been left looking bad.
"Well, I'll read it later. Now I need to digest properly, lunchtime is almost here." And getting back into bed, she settled down to chew, like a python, all the food in her stomach.
Not even twenty minutes had passed when an uncomfortable stomach pain woke the boy. He, unaccustomed to food disagreeing with him, muttered a protest and closed his eyes to see if the discomfort would pass and he could continue sleeping until lunchtime.
That magic potion prepared by Don Martín had spread
all over the young man's body and began to do his task.
Suddenly, a tapping of knuckles on his door woke him again. Now a cold sweat ran down his body from head to toe, and the slight discomfort was starting to get out of hand.
– What do you want, mother?
– Andrés, son! Did you go to bed again? Weren't you supposed to help Don Genaro move? I'm sure he's made a nice potato omelet for when you're finished.
– For God's sake, Mother! Don't talk to me about food at this hour and get out of the way of the bathroom door.
After three attempts to leave the small, private room, he managed to compose himself a little and went downstairs to say goodbye to his mother.
– Here are some slices of fried bread and some chocolate to keep you strong and prevent you from getting tired while carrying furniture… But where are you going, Andrés?
– To the bathroom! Mother, to the bathroom!
And he even seemed agile as he climbed the stairs with his hand on that part where the back loses its nobility.
A good while later, with his face as white as chalk on a wall, he set off in search of Don Genaro, leaving behind slices of bread and chocolate, while his mother scratched her chin, looking somewhat worried.
– He's leaving without breakfast? I can't believe it.
As I passed by Luisón's shop, there he was with a pleasant smile that had grown larger upon seeing the paleness of the young man's face.
– Good morning, Andrés! When you get back from wherever you're going, stop by the shop; I have a little gift for you. I've made you an eight-egg potato omelet.
The boy closed his eyes. It was as if the word "tortilla" had struck him like a blow to the gut. Without answering, he continued on his way. Poor Andresín didn't understand anything. He had never felt so ill, and he never thought he wouldn't jump for joy if someone gave him a tortilla. Especially since he loved them so much.
And thinking of her, a stomach cramp made him quicken his pace, his face completely disfigured.
– Andresín! You look great! – Frasquito, the one from the toy store, greeted him, eating the biggest potato omelet sandwich anyone had ever seen.
It was clear that everyone was in on it and that Frasquito wasn't eating that huge sandwich at the door by chance.
Without answering, the young man quickened his pace even more. His stomach was in his throat, and he was having contractions so severe it felt like he was about to give birth.
To make matters worse, as he passed by Don Tenorio's bar, he found the terrace packed and, of course, absolutely everyone sitting there was eating a slice of tortilla.
– Do you want a little piece, Andresín? – They offered it one by one as they passed by.
The poor boy, walking like a race walker, his cheeks clenched and sweating as if he'd slept under a plastic sheet on a summer afternoon, thought: "It's amazing how kind everyone is today when I'm not feeling well. I'm starting to hate tortillas..."
A new stomach cramp made him think the worst, and with one hand on his stomach and the other on his privates, he spun around on his heels and headed for the restrooms at Don Tenorio's bar. When Don Tenorio saw him enter so determined, he thought, "In the end, I'm the one who's going to get the worst of it after Andresín." And closing his eyes for a few seconds, he took out some delicious slices of tortilla for Andresín to see when he came out of the restroom.
He sat in his highchair for twenty minutes with his eyes closed, not understanding why this was happening to him. Somewhat calmer, he prepared to leave the place to help, if he could, with Don Genaro's move.
Upon arrival, he was met by some Galician oak wardrobes that weighed a hundredweight and which gradually sapped the little strength the boy had left.
Bedside tables, boxes with plates and cutlery, and piles of books kept him entertained for the first hour, without losing sight for a moment, and for whatever might come, of the place where the bathrooms were located.
"Andresín! Drop everything, it's time for a snack!" Mrs. Magnolia, Don Genaro's wife, called to him. "Come here, I've brought breakfast for everyone.".
The poor boy closed his eyes and, as if he had a grumpy ogre in his stomach, struggled to approach the table where the food was laid out. A beautiful potato omelet steamed, releasing a delicious aroma of onions fried in olive oil and set with free-range eggs. A delight.
Again, drops of cold sweat accelerated down her back, her eyes were red, her belly was spinning like an angry washing machine, and her hand was on her buttocks as if trying to avoid what was going to be inevitable.
With a light, almost comical gait, trying not to spread her legs too far apart, she went quickly to the toilet to bring peace to her anguished life on that fateful Saturday.
As he unbuttoned his pants, the note he had picked up from under the tortilla, the poison, fell at his feet.
Reluctantly, he picked up the note with his name on it and removed it from the sticky wrapping that had kept it safe. He soon realized that his situation was no accident. It was his neighbors' response to what he, in his twenty years, had sown.
His lack of respect, his selfishness, his shamelessness.
As he left the bathroom, he apologized for having to leave them and told them he wasn't feeling well. Before he left, Mrs. Magnolia called out to him: "Young man! Take a piece of tortilla for the road; it'll surely settle your stomach.".
Andresín, head bowed, closed his eyes and shut the door. It was an endless walk back home, passing by Don Tenorio's bar again, where everyone was still eating tortilla. Just as they passed the grocery store, Luisón appeared.
– What! Andresín, it's time to eat, isn't it?
The boy, embarrassed, quickened his pace, went inside, and climbed the stairs very slowly, his legs pressed tightly together, until he reached the bathroom again. He spent Saturday afternoon, several hours that night, and Sunday morning sitting on that uncomfortable throne bestowed upon him by his craving for food.
That afternoon, feeling much better, thanks in part to the rice soup his mother, Tomasa, had lovingly prepared for him, he decided that, besides changing his behavior, he should apologize to his neighbors. He would never again take anything that wasn't given to him and would try to earn the respect of others through his work and good deeds.
"Good morning, Andrés," the mayor greeted, entering the Town Hall as he did every Monday.
– Good morning, Don Antonio. Have a good day.
The mayor stopped dead in his tracks. He was expecting the usual morning tirade, delivered in a loud, almost boisterous voice, and this didn't sound right at all. He turned on his heels and approached the boy.
– Are you alright, Andrés? Haven't you had breakfast?
Andresín smiled, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Don Antonio, I must apologize for tormenting you with my silly questions every morning. You gave me a job, and I've repaid you by making you say your name and job title so I can chuckle at your flustered state. It won't happen again. Please forgive me, and thank you so much for everything you've always done for me.”.
Don Antonio's eyes and mouth were wide open. This couldn't be true. Andresín apologized and promised to behave like a responsible citizen.
– Andrés, I'll ask you again, are you okay? This is the last thing I could have expected this morning, and at the same time, it's the best news we could have this year in San Marcos de la Jara.
Don Antonio knew nothing of the plot hatched over the weekend to teach the boy a lesson and was somewhat out of the loop. However, his secretary filled him in in no time.
The mayor, who ultimately liked the boy because deep down, very deep down, he had a very big heart, decided to go down and chat with him to cheer him up a bit.
– Well, young man, would you like to join me for breakfast? If any of the staff here sneak out for a little while today, we'll forgive them.
Andresín smiled and nodded.
– But of course, starting tomorrow you'll continue with your technique of taking attendance of everyone who comes in and out. Let's go.
"Don Antonio," the boy said, grabbing his arm and stopping him from leaving. "Name and job title," he said, and with a broad smile, he closed his notebook and went to join the mayor to use his allotted time for breakfast.
Antonio Pestana
Antonio Jesús Pestana Salido (Cabra, Córdoba, 1970) es ornitólogo y fotógrafo de naturaleza andaluz, especializado en aves y en la interpretación del paisaje mediterráneo. Desde niño ha estado vinculado al estudio y observación de la fauna, y lleva décadas recorriendo los espacios naturales de Andalucía, especialmente la Subbética cordobesa.
Es fotógrafo de naturaleza premiado a nivel nacional, ganador del primer premio del concurso de fotografía de naturaleza Carl Zeiss (IV edición) con una imagen de digiscoping de piquituerto común, además de otros reconocimientos en concursos especializados de fotografía de aves.
Como ornitólogo de campo ha participado en proyectos de seguimiento y conservación de aves, especialmente rapaces y aves esteparias, y ha sido coordinador provincial en Córdoba de los censos de aguilucho pálido y aguilucho cenizo. También es presidente de la asociación naturalista Abanto, dedicada a la divulgación y conservación del patrimonio natural.
Es autor de varios libros sobre fauna ibérica y cultura popular publicados por editoriales especializadas, entre ellos “Las aves ibéricas en la cultura popular” y “Las rapaces diurnas ibéricas en la cultura popular”, obras que recopilan refranes, creencias y tradiciones relacionadas con las aves en la cultura popular.
Además de su trabajo como autor y fotógrafo, desarrolla actividades de divulgación y educación ambiental, guiando salidas de naturaleza, impartiendo talleres de fotografía de aves y colaborando con centros educativos, asociaciones y proyectos de turismo de naturaleza.
She regularly works with schools, designing wildlife observation activities adapted for primary and secondary school students. She also collaborates with companies and associations on birdwatching tours, teaches nature photography courses, and participates in the design of natural areas.
