Аннотация: A fantastic and humorous story of how Brazilians discovered Heavy Metal Rock.
Paulo Passarinho
THE ORIGIN OF BRAZILIAN METAL ROCK
"You took me in and you drove me out
Yeah, you had me hypnotized, yeah
Lost and found and turned around
By the fire in your eyes"
Ozzy Osbourne,
"Mama, I"m coming home"
CHAPTER ONE. INCEPTION
Once upon a time there lived four young black brothers in Brazil. Even in their neighborhood they were famous being the most black among the other black people. May be due to this fact, may be not (nobody could say for sure), but their family name was Preto. More to this, never a smile touched the lips of the brothers, and nobody ever heard them laughing. When all the neighbors spent their time singing and dancing samba in the sun, Preto brothers just closed the single window in their small house, put wooden corks in their ears, and read gloomy stories by the candlelight. And so the years passed by...
One day (it was one of the uncommonly stormy days in the area), the door of the Pretos" house opened and a strange man came in. The moment he stepped inside, lightning flashed and thunder shook the shabby inhabitance. "Anybody home?" asked the strange man looking around confusingly, because he couldn't see black brothers in the scarce light. "My name is Ozzy and I just missed my touristic bus".
That day changed the life of the brothers. They spoke with Ozzy the whole day, then the whole night. Neighbors didn't see stranger leaving, but since then they started to hear weird sounds coming from brothers' house, sounds that they could call music if it was not so slow, dark, and depressive.
And it came a day when citizens of the town saw big black posters on the walls of their houses. They all were invited to be the first attending a "black metal" show. At the town hall tonight! Absolutely free of charge! Complimentary mango juice at the entrance! Small keepsake for every guest! Town was excited. The only subject of conversations was mysterious performance.
The whole day people sang and danced samba in the streets as usual, and, when the last beam of the sun died out, the doors of the big town hall opened with squeak. Crowd poured inside, laughing and dancing. When the hall was filled up with people, doors suddenly shut. The only dim light came through high round windows of the colonial building, and deep shade fell onto the crowd. At the platform stage it became even darker. Everybody expected lights to come, samba to sound, all to dance... but instead, low roar of electric guitar filled in the hall. Heavy drums followed. Scared inhabitants peered into the darkness, but could see nothing at the stage. When the voice, like one of a crazy man, screamed, and still nothing was seen (here I have to say that Pretos prepared a bunch of really brilliant stunts for the audience, and all that time they ran over the stage, twisted guitars over their heads, performed somersaults and other nice tricks... and yes, it could be so impressive, but... nobody could see black men in the dark room) people started to run out to the streets, putting hands over their ears, crying loud and forgetting completely of free mango juice that was kindly prepared for them by Preto brothers. The only one man has left standing in the hall a minute later - it was an old man, deaf and almost blind. He was brought inside by grandchildren, and forgotten during the chaos. Thinking, that there still samba festival goes on, he tried to move his rheumatic hips left and right, quietly singing to known only to him melody.
And so the show ended.
CHAPTER TWO. THE GOLD MINE
After the unexpected final of the show, brothers returned to their house. It was not triumphal ride on the hands of admirers, as they dreamed, but rather clandestine escape through the back door. They never thought of why God made their skin so black, now they knew it. It was all about saving their lives today, in the dark of moonless night. Leaving town hall, they heard people coming back, not to ask them to sing an encore, but to fight unholy creatures, nested in the ancient building. Branco, a local priest, was at the head of the crowd. Never in his life met he supernatural powers and his feelings were mix of fear and curiosity. But the demons escaped this time. When the inner space of the town hall was flooded by light of chandeliers, the only evidences of disgrace were black acoustic system with amplifier, and rows of juice glasses along the walls. Amplifier has been sacrificed first, then loudspeakers sang their farewell song. Mango juice, "a Satan"s blood", as Branco called it, was carefully taken away and buried in the waste ground behind the building. But in spite of strict prohibition to touch the liquid, children who helped to carry out jars with juice, managed to secretly drink a good third of it.
The old deaf man also got it hot. He was claimed of being possessed by demons, bound by ropes tightly and taken to the church for exorcism. Among the most active supporters of this act his grandchildren were seen, in this way they hoped to get rid of annoying relative, at least for a while.
All black posters have been burned that night along with the amplifier's remains, and in the morning nothing reminded of the tumult in the town. But those, who had an ear for music, could hear that some songs on the streets went slightly out of tune next day. In a short time though, like a trace of a jet plane that flew by over with roar, dissolves in clear blue sky, so life in the town came back to its regular flow.
Luckily for the brothers, people didn"t know so far who the diabolic musicians were, but Pretos had to be very careful from now on, some neighbors could connect the strange sounds in brothers" house and at the town hall performance. Not mentioning, that another attempt to perform in public would have clear and dramatic consequences for them. If they try again, nothing would save them from righteous wrath of the town residents.
It was hard time for the Pretos. Corners of their mouths, which never were in upper position, now lowered even more, making their faces "smiling in reverse". They felt so ruined that horror books didn"t please them anymore. And in about a week after the memorable event they took a council, trying to find a way out of dead end. They closed the window and sat around the table. The oldest brother took the role of a chairman and spoke.
All that happened was a failure to that they weren"t prepared, he said. But it had to be different; Ozzy couldn"t tell them a lie! There was another world across the ocean, world, in which people not only danced samba and sang "Tico Tico", but paid money to be able to hear (by means of art of any kind) about death and other unpleasant things that sometimes happen in life. Careless Brazilians never bothered themselves with such questions, but Pretos didn"t see another way for them now.
They will continue at any cost. They need to find a place for practice and the youngest brother proposed to use an abandoned gold mine in the town"s vicinity. That place already had bad reputation after an incident when group of school boys didn"t return from mine exploration tour five years ago. People avoided its dark passages, and there were rumors of scary sounds coming out of the caves. That seemed to be a perfect hideout and, going to bed that night, everybody kept a sparkle of hope.
Gold mine became a second home to Pretos. They organized a kind of studio in one of the passages far enough from the entrance. Passage didn"t end there, but formed a rough round hall, promising to be a good acoustic place. Air flow was good enough to breath, make fire and use electrical power generator. Under cover of night they brought inside all the needed equipment and soon echo repeated the first guitar riffs played by Pretos" band. And it was their second birthday.
In small tropical towns time never rush, but little by little the rumors about demons in the old mine grew stronger. Every now and then somebody told that somebody heard something about that, some people swore that they have heard demons calling to them from under the ground. Somebody saw black men-like shapes around. "They are demons from the town hall. And they will come back to us someday," whispered women to each other in the groceries. The only one attempt to calm the demons down was undertaken by Branco - he came to the mine alone with a keg of holy water and sprinkled it all around the entrance of the cave. Demons ignored his attack. Just for precaution, the old deaf man was taken again for exorcism procedure in the church, to the great pleasure of his family.
Pretos worked hard. Every night they came down the mine and returned home only by morning. Days they spent to write music and lyrics, and after sunset, gasoline burned again in the generator and strings were torn by raging fingers. Their isolation and understanding that they can not bring their art out to the people, enjoy attention and love, made their musical compositions even more perfect. Dark old mine environment powered their songs, making them full of eternal grief and sorrow. They never spoke to each other about new public performance, but everyone dreamed of it.
One evening when three brothers gathered in the cave for another rehearsal, and were busy tuning guitars and filling power generator with gasoline, the oldest Preto ran in. He looked unusually agile, even insane, and absolutely surprising looked the smile on his face, not Eddie Murphy"s smile for sure, but definitely a smile that revealed a line of his white teeth. Tears glittered in his eyes. Clutched in the right hand was a narrow black envelope.
"My good brothers, I brought great news for you!" he began breathlessly, and his teary eyes caught campfire reflection, flashing red for a moment. "We"re blessed, and our prays had been heard. Ozzy will give his concert here. He"s already on the way to Brazil."
CHAPTER THREE. "TRÊS CACHORROS ALEGRES"
Ozzy arrived in the town on the next evening of the day when the demons in the cave were totally defeated. Curious mind could follow the whole story of how it happened right on the streets of the town, where samba school members organized colorful performances. If you"d just accidentally join the group of people by the small improvised stage in the shadow of coco palm trees, you would see exactly the following: in the middle of the clearing stood an image of the gold mine - a heap of old stuff, like paper boxes, pillows, and other useless things performers brought from their houses. The junk was mixed with coconuts, very well playing role of stones.
The show began with drums, followed by dissonant sound of low-tone pipes, first hardly heard, but quickly growing louder. Two black performers sprang onto the stage, grimacing and shaking their bodies in time with the infernal rhythms. The dance continued few minutes, "demons" jumping around the "mine", until finally both ran to the heap and buried themselves inside. Sound continued to torture the ears of the listeners, and those two, who sat hidden in the heap, began to stretch their hands out and towards the audience, like calling to join the evil orgy. It was not really scaring, but still all the people made a step back from comic demons, just following pious instinct. In the same very moment to the stage ran a man, dressed like a priest, followed by two girls in white dresses with lacy wings on their backs. Staying in front of the pile and black hands that wriggled in the most repulsive way, girls began to sing "Ave Maria". For a few seconds it seemed that they will not succeed against the sound of raging drums and pipes, but little by little, the song grew louder. Very slowly the priest approached the "demons" with a wooden cross held over his head, and suddenly black hands caught him by the robe. Something flashed behind the scene, pipes died out. Drums performed low rumble sound and the "mine stones" scattered over the stage, leaving two black bodies lying in the center of it. Well, it was quite a good impersonation of the events that took place late in the yesterday"s evening. But we"re straying away from the story line.
Ozzy arrived in the town when sun approached horizon, but the air was still hot like hell. Firstly, people saw a cloud of dust, that spouted a whole mix of sounds - metal clutching, motor"s roar, and the most dirty words ever heard in the town. When it got closer, those, who had good eyes, could recognize in the clouds an old rusty truck that rumbled and clattered when bumping over knolls, filling the air with dust. Swearing and clanking, the cloud turned left and took direction towards the town center. Ozzy sat in the cabin by the driver, and members of his band had no choice as to use open space in the truck"s open body, sitting on beer boxes, that took the most space in it. Long drive by bad roads, warm beer, and merciless sun made them feeling extremely sick, and every now and then, one of them hanged over the side and emptied his stomach, adding another disgusting sound to the unholy symphony.
Truck stopped by the only hotel in town, two-storey wooden building, located on the central square, right opposite the notorious town-hall. At the board over the door there proudly stood "TRÊS CACHORROS ALEGRES" in big letters, with a picture of three smiling dogs in red, yellow and blue colors. From the old days of construction the board was repainted many times, but never the old hotel saw so many visitors at once.
Ozzy got out, spat and said a very long phrase, in which hardly a word was suitable for woman"s ear. Then he threw an empty beer can to the ground, smashed it by foot, and took his steps toward the doors. The town was doomed.
Next week everybody was waiting in suspense, not knowing how to react to unexpected invasion. And on the fifth day the worst expectations came true - from the hotel there came the same sounds that were well known by the people as demonic voices.
The shock was great. People didn"t know anymore where to run and how to hide from the evil. Children were prohibited to play in the town center, and mothers tried to keep their daughters as far as possible from the place. Some families even left the town out of caution. The old hotel owner wanted to burn his property down with all the demonic guests immediately, sacrificing himself for good, but then calculated the profit he will get after all (demons were paying generously) and put this plot off.
Probably, Ozzy didn"t know all that, or maybe he just didn"t care. Every day around noon, he got down from his room at the second floor to the bar, ordered drink and asked the same question, if anybody saw Preto brothers. Given negative answer, he sat, drunk some more pure cachaça, and got back. Another week passed in that way.
Fat police inspector Marrom was sitting in a rocking chair in his office, sipping caipirinha. On a three-legged stool by the table sat Branco, supporting head with his hands. It looked so, as if they had a long talk, because inspector seemed to be a little inspired by the drink. The bowl on a floor beside him was full of squeezed limes. Branco had a glass of water in front of him.
Marrom continued to talk. "Father, we all feel a deep sympathy to what you"ve passed through, I saw performance dedicated to your deeds, and it worked with demons in the mine... But to bring innocent girls inside the hotel to sing "Ave Maria" was a bit... improvident. From their parents I got complaints that three of the girls were brought home completely drunk and without their beau...uuuck!... " he hiccupped and brushed away a drunk tear, "...tiful lace wings. And know what, man? They learned such terrible words there! Do you still think that that was a bright idea?"
Branco hit the table with his fist so hard, that water splashed from the glass and Marrom, who was about to hiccup again, stiffed with his eyes popped out. "God is testing me! Don"t you see?! They are demons that I believed to defeat, now in the men"s shape! And the darkness could only be defeated by light! The leader of this gang is constantly asking about certain Pretos; I have inquired who these Pretos are, and - they seem to be disappeared, or just hiding from demons. The affair is shady for sure."
"Listen, Branco. I understand your feelings about bad guys staying in the hotel. But they are foreign citizens and it"s better to leave them alone. You don"t want a big intre... trinter... national row, eh? "
"And I told my own boys - if I just hear that one of you got closer than a shooting distance to that damned hotel, I"ll kick your butts with my old good belt, you know. It works better than your holy tricks, believe me. And anyway bad guys" visas expire in a week, so let it just end quietly. It is better you continue with that virtuous health care you are doing now. I have heard that you cured an old guy from rheumatism. The geezer staggers around, telling everybody that his good children have sent him for free procedures twice and now he can dance samba like young. "
"That was not medical procedures," murmured Branco gloomily, watching Marrom pouring another shot of cachaça in his glass, "but we have not finished with him yet".
"Whatever. And... yuuuuck! - you are a good guy, Branco. Believe me, I just wish good for both of us. Are you sure you do not want me to shake a cocktail for you? "
CHAPTER FOUR. THE SONG IN THE DARK
I"m being asked now - what did actually happen to Pretos? Are they really dead and buried in the gold mine by the power of God? Now it is time to tell you the truth.
When brothers received the letter from Ozzy, they practically jumped out of joy, which was rather careless, since some stalactites hanged from the ceiling quite low. After they came to their minds again and stopped hugging and kissing each other, they unanimously decided not to lose time and start practicing immediately, in order to be well prepared for the meeting.
"We need to write a special song, a song that Ozzy will like, maybe we will play it together," repeated eldest Preto to the others. But neither the Great Song lyrics, nor melody came to his mind, in spite of tremendous mind efforts. All songs he wrote before suddenly seemed to him lame and awkward. So brothers continued to sharpen their skills with the set of songs they learned from Ozzy. To get inspired they often put an old reel with magnetic tape in the tape recorder and spent hours listening. It was the only album of Ozzy they got from him as a gift.
The day before Ozzy"s arrival brothers gathered in their hideout to do a final rehearsal. They started to play all the songs they knew, and muse had stroke them that night, since after the memorable show in the Town Hall, never have Pretos performed with such sense and passion.
They played and played, bass guitar resounding heavily in the vault, and, finally, young Preto, already driven in ecstasy, turned amplifier volume to maximum. Vibrations reached loose stones in the passage, which started to move slowly. Right in that time, outside the cave, Branco the priest and girls, dressed like angels, sang their prayer.
Ozzy got down to the bar. His hair was dirty, and, although in the room it was rather murky, he wore round black sunglasses. On the back of his T-shirt with faded imprint of a scull there hanged crumpled remains of something lacy, vaguely reminding angel"s wings. Usually the bar was empty, but this time one of the high stools alongside the counter was occupied by a visitor. It was a frail old man, who was sitting on top of a stool like a hen on a perch, legs not reaching the floor and hanging feebly down. He wore brown jacket and wide-brimmed hat of the same color. The old man had a glass of cachaça in front of him, but didn"t drink.
Ozzy went behind the counter, and thought a bit, selecting bottle. He took the biggest one, opened it, and took a sip from a neck. "With you inside this bar looks like a Wild West saloon. Have you seen Preto brothers around?" he addressed the old man.
"No, I have not, though I know who you are talking about. But at first let me introduce myself. I"m Amarelo, a major. Kind of important guy here," he was trying to speak in steady voice, but his hands were slightly trembling and wet.
"Finally, the one who knows something," muttered Ozzy, "it looks like people are afraid of me. It"s surprising - no one bothers me to sign a postcard or something. Completely different to what I"m used to."
"The rumors are spread that you have some relations with umm... unnatural forces. Not that I believe them, but your... appearance and the sounds people hear... They say you communicate with the underworld."
"Yeah, I should"ve guessed something like this.... That priest and the girls... But the girls were nice! And the priest - he just bored me to death, and I had to kick him out of here, when he started brandishing with his crucifix in front of my face," Ozzy smiled, recalling the incident.
"Look at an old man, who is dancing over there. He was possessed by demons once, his body was weak and his soul was dark, but the priest you have so improperly kicked out, managed to cure him. Now he is sound and happy," said Amarelo in defense of Branco. Ozzy turned his head and looked through the dirty window, but a moment before that the geezer (of course, it was our well-known old deaf man) had stumbled over a border stone and fell behind the corner and out of sight. Close to that place, a young brawny boy, "capoeirista", was practicing his skill in an incredible mix of marital art and dance. Ozzy put his brow up in surprise.
"Your town is full of miracles," he took a loud gulp from the bottle and put it down to the counter, "It"s a pity I was rude to that man. I hope that, possessing such power, he had also successfully cured the bruise on his ass. And I will be honest with you now. Two years ago I came to Brazil, but not as a tourist, as I told Pretos. No, I came here because I was deep in crisis, creative crisis, if you know what I mean. I was not sure if I"m doing things right, if I was writing good music; and black depression came over me. Sure, I got lots of fans and followers, but was I leading them the right way? I came here, as far from home as I could, and I saw that people are happy without heavy music I perform, and not gonna change this. One rainy evening I stopped my car in your town and walked by the streets without particular reason. And I"d say I was on the verge of suicide that day. I decided to enter the first house with the light in its windows and talk to people who live there. If I don"t meet understanding, then it"s over for me and for my music. "
"It was my luck that I met Pretos. I talked to them and my feeling was like heavy burden on my shoulders gradually losing weight. They practically saved me that night and I"m immensely grateful to them. I was enlightened and returned to England with new ideas on my mind. But, solving my own problems, in the same time I"m responsible for the troubles these brothers got into. I received a letter from them, and I realized that Pretos needed my help. My plan was to sing together with them, show Brazilians that our heavy music has a right to be played and heard. Now I have no idea where Pretos are, and I have a foreboding of something really bad. This Saturday I"m departing back to England, but before I go, I"d like to play few songs here on this square. This could be the smallest thing I could do to pay the debt I"m standing in. As a major you could help me with this. And we can announce that this is not a show, but kind of another exorcism act, trying to calm down demons that haunt your town, speaking in their own language. Free of charge, of course."
After the ceiling of the passage in the cave had collapsed and echo of the falling rocks faded, there fell dead silence. Luckily, no one of the brothers was hurt, but the only way out was blocked completely. There were several narrow passageways in other directions, and, according to the fact that there was an air flow, it was a chance to find exit. Pretos had some provisions in reserve and it was not likely that they die of hunger at least during three or four weeks, but if they do not take measures, the situation would quickly get worse.
Pretos started to explore all existing tunnels, one after another, marking routes with charcoal. In one of the passages they came over human remains. The flesh was apparently eaten by animals, but, according to the size of the body, it belonged to one of the children that got lost in the mine some years ago. Clothes of the boy remained intact, and in one of the pockets laid a copybook page with just a few words: "Mama, I"m coming home". Eldest Preto took this page. His intention was to bring this paper out and find parents or relatives of the boy, but then the phrase started to haunt him, and once, sitting in the darkness of another blind passage, a melody came into his head, followed by words that appeared like from the air:
"Times have changed and times are strange
Here I come but I ain't the same
Mama, I'm comin' home"
Preto didn"t notice, that he was singing aloud, and that was really sublime, the voice, singing a moving melody in complete darkness, deep under the mountain. When the song was over, Preto continued to sit on the cold stone, trying to understand what just happened to him. He looked upwards and suddenly saw a narrow line of grey light over his head. Touching the ceiling he could clearly feel the plain surface that couldn"t be created by nature. "Hey, brothers!" he called, "It looks like I"ve found something!" And indeed, when they raised one of the slabs and carefully looked out, stone faces of sinister gothic statues stared back at them in the dim light. No one had doubts - they got into an old crypt.
CHAPTER FIVE. CHILDREN OF THE GRAVE
Major Amarelo was clever and cunning man. He quickly realized that he could benefit from the situation, and strengthen his positions as administrative leader. Few occasional words in public places, inofficial conversation with deputy"s wife, and voila! - everybody knows that major is a man who is going to save the town once and forever! Not like Branco, who made things worse after all. The procedure is very simple. The bad guys will let their evil power out on Saturday evening; then they will disappear. People can come and see it without fear, everything will be under control. He, Amarelo, will personally take care of that.
"Hi Oz, how ya doin"!" Amarelo seemed to be the most excited person on Saturday, who hung about at the square since morning, demonstrating deep involvement in all of the activities around the show. "Hey, you two! This hotel signboard looks stupid. Take that piece of cloth and cover it up now! Olá, Geezer, why so long face? Gimme your can of beer, man, it"s enough for you for today! And who the hell are those people with guitars? They look like living dead from the horror show!"
The last words, as you can guess, were addressed to Preto brothers who finally made their way to "Três cachorros" but were not in the mood to discuss their appearance with anybody. They looked really scary in their dirty clothes, with dishevelled hairs and month-long beards. When Ozzy saw them, he just whispered a few words to one of his companions and joined brothers. Not asking questions, he opened a door to the hotel and all five went inside. Shortly loud clank of bottles was heard from the bar. Amarelo immediately found a reason to inspect something inside the hotel, but in a minute he was out again, slightly red in face, and continued to manage preparation process with even more energy.
"Hello everybody! Are you ready for the show?" cried Ozzy loudly and his voice echoed from the old town hall. Normally there should be a roar of the crowd in response, but this time he didn"t get an answer to his question. There were not many people who were brave enough to come directly to the square, but people could be seen on top of the roofs and behind the windows of nearly located houses. In the distance they felt more or less safe and in the same time could observe the scene. "Nice to meet you too," continued Ozzy, "Today we got special menu for you, we will sing some songs, our songs, that people in the world believe to be good. If you do not like it, please, cry as loud as you can! And if you like it, then cry two times louder, ok? And we got our friends with us on this scene, friends from your town, talented guys who will sing with us firstly and then will show you some of their own songs. Are you ready now?!!!" Silence. "Ok, let"s begin!" And four guitars uttered a roar, making glasses of nearby windows jingle and few ripe coconuts fall down from trees. And not only coconuts - from another palm tree there dropped a scared boy, landed softly on his bottom and ran away, crying loudly. Show began.
Ozzy looked great on the stage. He was wearing only jeans with chequered suspenders and immutable round sunglasses, displaying a set of tattoos, covering his hands and breast that glittered on his sweaty skin in the light of setting sun. Pretos stood deep inside the scene, they felt themselves a little uncomfortable being in public after living in recluse for so long time, and they were also ashamed of their dirty clothes that they didn"t have time to change. But little by little as show progressed, shame and fear was forgotten.
And it came a moment when eight musicians started to sing together, like they were created for this only purpose, and their guitars and voices became a one complex organism. And in conclusion Ozzy sang "Mama, I"m coming home"...
Comparing to world standards, the show could not be called a success, but it was not a failure either. Scanty audience started to leave, some murmuring something about corrupted foreign morals, some complaining that their ears has stuffed up with all this fuss. But there were few who went thoughtfully, mumbling strange melodies to themselves. And no one called to kill the demons anymore. Preto brothers were tired to death and three of them went home for a sleep right away, but elder Preto stayed with Ozzy to help him packing equipment in the truck. What for our old friends, they all were around too, visible or not.
Amarelo stood with his legs apart on the front steps of hotel. He was smoking a thick cigar, looking over the square in a way general looks at the battlefield when his army is taking over.
Police inspector Marrom, tears streaming over his flabby cheeks, sat drunk in the braided chair beside his office with his sweaty shirt fully unbuttoned. He was deeply touched, but it was hard to say what had affected him more - music or alcohol vapors.
Old deaf man sat in the center of the square where he has been put by his daughter, an old hag. "Sit here, old fool, may be the demons will take you at last!" she groaned to him, and you could think that her curse had worked. Old man was not moving at all and looked dead with his mouth opened, but no - he was just peacefully sleeping in the fresh air.
Branco the priest stood hidden in shortish guava trees in the small garden near town hall, his fists clenched and teeth gritted. The Devil played a joke with him and finally succeeded. He still couldn"t accept the truth that he loved the music he just heard; but he would rather let his hand cut off then publicly confess it.
When the truck left the square, Preto stood for a short time, resting, leaning on his guitar, then put it over his shoulder and made steps towards home. He passed close by two boys who stood aloof. He noticed that the one, who looked older, opened his mouth like wanting but not daring to say something.
Preto stopped and smiled at him. "If you want to ask something, sonny, it is a good time. C"mon, give it out!"
The face of the boy became red. "Excuse me for my curiosity, but where did you come from? You look like you just... dug out of the ground," he said, while the younger boy pulled him by the sleeve of the jacket.
Preto looked at the boy seriously and answered after a short pause. "You are right, sonny, you are absolutely right. We are from the grave," which in Portuguese sounded as "Somos da sepultura".
"Max, Igor!" called a well-dressed man, accompanied by a beautiful woman with sun-umbrella, "Please stop nagging people! It"s time to go home!"
Max, who was about to ask next question to a musician, reluctantly turned around and went to his parents, murmuring quietly, "Sepultura... Sepultura... Oh, that is great!"