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Ovoletes

Augusto morreu na dúvida. E do fígado, claro. Abusava das omeletes, e disso há muito, demasiado tempo, se sabia em Portimão (e Ferragudo). Muito pior foi partir sem dar resposta à sua maior angústia, esse fantasma de sempre: "Por que raio insistem em chamarem-lhes 'omeletes'?" Pertinente e pertinaz, Augusto tinha as suas razões: se são feitas com ovos (e sem eles também), por que não lhes chamamos "ovoletes"?

Comentários

Brasil disse…
Muito bem pensado. Aliás, fico a me perguntar: por que raios não pensaram nisso antes? :D
Rocío disse…
Melhor morrer na dúvida do que na dívida :D

(Não sabia o que preparar para o jantar mas parece que afinal vai ser omelete de atúm)

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