The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white.
“They look like white elephants,” said the girl.
“Whatever,” shouted the man, not bothering to look up. “Waitress,” he shouted to the señorita behind the bar, “nueve cervezas.” He thought that “nueve” meant “two” in Spanish.
“Do you think things will be the same when… Sorry. The hills just moved.”
“Don’t be silly. Hills don’t move,” he shouted.
“I know hills don’t move. That’s why I was so surprised. Look for yourself.”
The man turned to face the hills. “Jesus Christ!” he shouted. “Those are elephants!”
“White elephants,” said the girl, vindicated. “That’s what I said.”
“And not just elephants! Elephants the size of hills! God help us all! Also, they’re white.”
“I just said that.”
“Nueve cervezas,” said the waitress. She was carrying a tray full of beers.
“Señorita,” said the girl. She pointed toward the horizon. “Look! Giant elephants!”
The waitress turned her head. “Jesus fucking Christ!” she exclaimed. She dropped the tray on the table and ran back into the bar.
“I’m going to shoot them,” shouted the man.