Breakfast of Champions #3

Bonnie hizo una broma mientras le servía su martini. Decía el mismo chiste cada vez que le servía a alguien un martini. "Desayuno de campeones", decía.

Bonnie made a joke now as she served him his martini. She made the same joke every time she served anybody a martini. "Breakfast of Champions," she said.

*

Como todos en el salón, él estaba ablandando su cerebro con alcohol. Esta era una substancia producida por una pequeña criatura llamada levadura. Los organismos de la levadura comen azúcar y excretan alcohol. Se suicidan destruyendo su ambiente con mierda de levadura.

Kilgore Trout una vez escribió una historia sobre el diálogo entre dos pedazos de lavadura. Discutían los posibles propósitos de sus vidas mientras comían azúcar y se sofocaban en su propio excremento. Por su inteligencia limitada jamás estuvieron cerca de adivinar que estaban haciendo champaña.

Like everybody else in the cocktail lounge, he was softening his brain with alcohol. This was a substance produced by a tiny creature called yeast. Yeast organisms ate sugar and excreted alcohol. They killed themselves by destroying their own environment with yeast shit.

Kilgore Trout once wrote a short story which was a dialogue between two pieces of yeast. They were discussing the possible purposes of life as they ate sugar and suffocated in their own excrement. Because of their limited intelligence, they never came close to guessing that they were making champagne.

*

La novela en cuestión, casualmente, era 'El conejo inteligente'. El protagonista era un conejo que vivíó como todos los otros conejos salvajes, pero que era tan inteligente como Albert Einstein o William Shakspeare. Era un conejo hembra. Era el único protagonista hembra en cualquier de las novelas de Kilgore Trout.

Ella llevaba una vida normal de conejo hembra a pesar de su hinchado intelecto. Ella llegó la conclusión de que su mente era inútil, que se trataba de alguna especie de tumor, que no tenía ninguna utilidad en el conejístico plan de las cosas.

Se fue saltando y saltando, saltando hacia la ciudad, para que le removieran el tumor. Pero un cazador de nombre Dudley Farrow le disparó y la mató antes de que llegara. Farrow la despellejó y le sacó las tripas, pero luego él y su esposa Grace decidieron que mejor no se la comerían porque tenía una cabeza inusualmente grande. Ellos pensaron lo que ella pensó cuando estaba viva, que estaba enferma.

The novel in question, incidentally, was The Smart Bunny. The leading character was a rabbit who lived like all the other wild rabbits, but who was as intelligent as Albert Einstein or William Shakespeare. It was a female rabbit. She was the only female leading character in any novel or story by Kilgore Trout.

She led a normal female rabbit's life, despite her ballooning intellect. She concluded that her mind was useless, that it was a sort of tumor, that it had no usefulness within the rabbit scheme of things.

So she went hippity-hop, hippity-hop toward the city, to have the tumor removed. But a hunter named Dudley Farrow shot and killed her before she got there. Farrow skinned her and took out her guts, but then he and his wife Grace decided that they had better not eat her because of her unusually large head. They thought what she had thought when she was alive—that she must be diseased.