It was obviously a bad day at the world and I was not the man to solve it's problems, I realize it now. However, just a few minutes ago I was a politician in the midst of an election campaign and I was explaining reporters how I was the right man for the job. I'm not shure what the job was: I was campaigning near my own street, so it could be for mayor, but immediately before that I was having a nice day at the beach and was worried about the papparazzi following me; so, prime-minister, perhaps?
Marques Mendes, the portuguese opposition leader was there at the beach with two lesbians. The paperazzi came to sit beside me in the sand to eat their cheese sandwiches and told me how they were unsure about publishing the photos of Marques Mendes. He joined us, reeking of tobacco and beer, smiling and showing his yellow teeth.
Then I felt the ground shaking and I heard the sound of loud music: bad heavy metal straight from the 70s. There was a thick smell like if the whole world was rotting. I was near a tall and unfinished building. There was a muddy street going down until the place where I was and at the other end I saw a dozen monstrous cows coming towards me. They were black and red and had huge horns. I was shaken by fear. The ground floor of the building was a tall space with naked concrete pillars and surrounded by crooked iron bars. I tried to escape inside, running over puddles of mud.
There were more people running and trying to get over the iron fences, all were football players dressed in their club's outfit. I could not recognize all, but Cristiano Ronaldo was there and Ronaldinho, Edgar Davids , Alan Shearer, Drogba too and many others in many different colours.
Then we were all inside and all the cows were roasting in a long row of gigantic spits, turning slowly over bright fires. It was very hot and all the football players were doing a barbaric dance, shouting and stamping their feet on the muddy ground.