Mommy and Daddy

Iulia Biro
She had already grown tired and this guy would just not get in the mood. She took her strawberry lollipop out of her mouth and handed it to him. Here, she said, in a coquettish voice. She lifted the frills of her pink polka dot dress: look, daddy, do you like my new undies? She twirled in front of him, moved the white lace so that the mole on her left buttock would be visible. With her bottom facing him, she bent over to lift up her little socks. Relieved, she sighed when she felt him behind her: now she only had to moan a few times. Now he only had to take her as his wife, so she can escape.
 
 Monica Ciurea
Let's play, he said and pulled on my blouse. Look, you're the mom, I'm the dad, you cook, and he slammed a jar lid next to the puddle, feed the kids, see that the food's alright. And you? Me? I earn money, that's what dads were made for. Ah, and iron my clothes, \'cause moms keep the dads looking neat, got it? If you don't, people will laugh at you, woman, he said, threatening me with a pointed finger. But we don't have any children, Jenică, I managed to mumble. We'll make some tonight, woman. That's what dads are good for, he said all smug, then she whacked him across the face.

Caterina Tudorache
So, dude, me. Yeah. The man remained with his finger in the air, while his other hand was gripping a beer bottle. Dude. I'm not saying. The finger remembered it is, in fact, mobile, and started cruising the cold air of the night along with his hand. Dude. I. Another man, fallen in the ditch in front of him, mumbled. Bye bye dude. Me. They both started crying and crowned this experience with another long swig of beer. Done. Me home, said the one in the ditch and fell asleep on his back. I'm going to mommy, said the biped and collapsed over the cemetery gate.

(Translated by Andreea-Nicoleta Ban / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)