‘Get up, vieja, and see what you can heat me up for breakfast. Come on, get going. Look at her! She looks half dead.’

‘Eh? Eh?’ she says, opening her eyes.

‘Didn’t I tell you last night I was going to Carrera to sell shirts and I have to get up at seven?’

‘Yes, but. . .’

‘Oh, carajo! Are you going to begin with your buts! On your feet.’