Throwing salt on the back of a Cururu toad is believed to have mystical effects

[Setting: A sunny Saturday afternoon in the backyard of Lucas’s home in São José dos Campos. They’re sipping on cold guaraná and grilling some queijo coalho.]

Lucas:
(grinning)
You won’t believe what happened yesterday, bro. I threw salt on a cururu toad behind the shed, and guess what? This morning, my neighbor’s car wouldn’t start. Coincidence? I think not.

Mateus:
(laughing)
Oh no, not the salt and toad thing again, Lucas. That poor amphibian probably just wanted a nap, and you turned it into your personal spiritual assistant.

Lucas:
(seriously)
I’m telling you, man. My vó always said: “Cururu é o mensageiro do além.” You throw salt on its back, and the universe shifts. It clears out envy, curses, bad energy—all of it.

Mateus:
Lucas, you do realize that salt has no mystical properties on a toad, right? It’s not like the toad gets Wi-Fi to the spirit world once you sprinkle seasoning on it. You’re just annoying wildlife.

Lucas:
(mock offended)
Annoying wildlife? It’s an ancient tradition! You wouldn’t understand. Science doesn’t explain everything.

Mateus:
Sure, science doesn’t explain everything, but it explains a lot. Like how salt affects animals through osmosis. You’re not summoning spirits—you’re dehydrating the poor cururu!

Lucas:
(genuinely concerned)
Wait… you mean I’m actually hurting the toad?

Mateus:
Unfortunately, yes. Salt draws moisture out of its skin. It’s like tossing acid on a sponge. Cururus aren’t demons—they’re part of the ecosystem. They eat bugs. Think of them as nature’s tiny pest control.

Lucas:
(pauses, then smiles slyly)
Well, maybe I was clearing bad mosquito energy. Ever think of that, Professor?

Mateus:
(laughs)
Nice try. Look, remember when you wore your underwear inside-out for three days straight because you thought it would change your luck?

Lucas:
(nodding proudly)
And it worked! I got that job interview at the bakery!

Mateus:
Yeah, because you applied for the job. And you had experience. It had nothing to do with your inverted boxers. Honestly, you’re lucky HR didn’t notice.

Lucas:
(defensive but grinning)
Okay, but what about that time I broke a mirror and got a flat tire the next day?

Mateus:
And the tire was bald, Lucas. You’d been driving on threads for weeks. That mirror just gave you a convenient scapegoat. Superstition feels like it works because we connect dots that aren’t there.

Lucas:
(thoughtfully)
But don’t you think some of these beliefs help people? I mean, they give comfort, a sense of control. My mom always says that traditions are the soul’s sweater.

Mateus:
That’s kind of beautiful, actually. And I get it. I’m not saying don’t believe in anything—but maybe believe in things that don’t hurt toads. Or yourself. Traditions evolve too, right? We can keep the stories without throwing salt around like we’re seasoning the spirit world.

Lucas:
(laughs)
So… what if I just talk to the cururu instead? Maybe give it a motivational speech?

Mateus:
Now that I’d pay to see. Just don’t feed it Doritos or start a cult.

Lucas:
Deal. No cults. Maybe I’ll even write a book: Toad Whisperer: One Man’s Journey from Salt to Science.

Mateus:
(raising his guaraná can)
Now that’s the kind of mystical evolution I can get behind. Cheers to that.

Lucas:
(clinking cans)
Cheers, meu irmão. But I’m still keeping my lucky garlic in the car. Just in case.

Mateus:
(shaking his head, smiling)
Baby steps, Lucas. Baby steps.

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[End Scene]