South Sandwich Islands, 1 - Orsinia, 0

Sandwich is a small island where small people sometimes do big things. Sandwichians are generally happy persons, lacking any trace of inflated patriotism and national arrogance.

Probably this is the reason why we do not invoke the god of war to discourage and frighten the enemy before a battle; but we’re gaining national identity, as some successful events have recently triggered our collective enthusiasm. Sports specifically, made the miracle of getting together the good people of this land to encourage the national team.

In 2008 Sandwich won an international soccer cup, an Olympic medal in basketball, some important cycling races… and what can I say about tennis? That cute Sandwichian boy, who wins all the tournaments lately, is known all over the world not only for being no.1, but also for his perfect body and outstanding butt.

Talking about tennis, some days ago Bob the Great phoned me with this tempting offer:

- Hey Len. Are you still cross? –he asked-
- No I’m not cross, Bob. And you? –I answered-

- I’m good, baby. I got two vip box seats for the Yoobie Cup final. The match will be tomorrow afternoon at the Arena. Would you like to go there with me? They have free grub’n’booze at the hospitality suite. And I promise to support the Sandwichian guys.

Sandwich is populated by people of different nationalities who coexist in peace and harmony. Just as a refresher: Bob was born in Zeewland, a small and proud country under sea level. Zeewlanders are big people –tallest in the world-, so they can do big things very often.

The Yoobie Cup is the premier international event in men’s tennis. The tournament was conceived in 1850 by four members of the Rocketts University tennis team in Orsinia, who wished to challenge the Burdish to a tennis competition.

Last year, Sandwich qualified for the Yoobie Cup and it was scheduled to play in 2008 against Orsinia. ITF gives Orsinia the first place in ratings. I’m not a huge sports fan, but the match was going to be the most important sports event of the century in Sandwich and to be sure, it would be thrilling. And also, it would be a good opportunity to make peace with Bob in a civilized way. That sounded good, so… why not?

- That would be lovely, Bob. –I said, accepting his invitation-
- Excellent. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 2PM.

I put my ripped faded jeans and blue tank top on for the occasion. He wore his baggy trousers, Nike Air Max Light Academy and black t-shirt with the slogan ‘Sorry girls, I only date models’. He looked very trendy, in the most typical Bobster fashion.

Sandwich is a very small island and there’s no room for big sports facilities, due to lack of space. Instead of them we have the Arena, a reduced bullring where apart from bullfighting –which by the way, I hate-, some other events are organised.

The Arena was designed in the mid 30s and has a sitting capacity of 25.000. It’s often used as a concert and sports venue in summer. There are also Christmas pantomimes and circus for the kids in winter.

So that day, Bob picked me up at 2AM, as agreed.

At the Arena, we were escorted to our seats by a voluptuous blond hostess dressed in flashy blue miniskirt and white top two sizes smaller than it should be, who showed us the free buffet place and gave us two hats to protect ourselves from the sun –a privilege only for vip guests-.

The buffet counter was covered with mouthwatering sandwich mountains of all sorts: chopped egg with smoked salmon, date, walnut and cream cheese, California veggie wrap, croque-monsieur, focaccia, bagels and other tasty delicacies. Bob started drooling alternatively over the hostess and the sandwiches, until I pushed him gently to wake him up from his daydreams and move. Our box was excellent. We had very comfortable seats and impressive view of the tennis yard.

The Arena was packed with people. It was hot and the sun was beating down on the audience. The match could last up to four hours or even more, so almost everybody was wearing a newspaper hat, using a fan, having a drink or doing the three things at the same time.

Thousands of Sandwichian flags were proudly waved by the supporters, who started their chants with ‘We will rock you’, accompanied by horns, bass drums and a great fanfare. Just in case you didn’t know: Sandwichians are very noisy people. As a proud Sandwichian, I include myself in this category.

The Orsinian supporters –a small group seated on the first floor stands- were very quiet, probably intimidated by the impressive racket. When the players came onto the yard, a great roar filled the Arena. Sandwichians and Orsinians stood up as the national anthems began playing.

- Who did you shag to get vip box seats for the final match, Bob? They’re selling them for more than 200 G –I whispered into his ear-
- I didn’t shag anyone, babe. I’m not the only one who has contacts. –he answered, deliberately making reference to Ed-. I made a nice banner at home. Look, Len. What do you think? –he asked-

He opened out the banner. It read “UP WITH SANDWICH. FUCK ORSINIA” in big red flashy capital letters. I gasped in horror and snatched the banner away from him.

- Are you crazy??? If you show this, the security guys will kick you off and I’ll tell them I don’t know you. –I said, very nervous-
- I’ll tell them the banner is yours, then. –he replied-
- If you show the banner I’ll go home. –I threatened-.
- Oh Len, it was just a joke to scare you! –he said, pulling my hand-

What kind of joke was that?

- Fold it right now and hide it in your undies so that nobody can see it. –I said-
- Jeez Len, you have no sense of humour at all … -he complained-
- That’s not fun!

Bob was crazy. Definitely. I looked around, just in case someone who knew me would identify me with that stupid banner, if Bob eventually decided to show it.

It was hard to spot familiar faces in a crowded place with 25.000 persons around, but I succeeded: I nearly fell off my chair when I saw Ed and Hellgirl relaxedly sipping a long drink at the presidential box, only a short distance to ours. Kynkybooks sponsored the match; that was the reason why they had the best seats.

I removed my hat and covered my face with it. I continued to scrutinize the boxes looking through the tiny gaps in the fabric and I had the fright of my life: next to Ed and Hellgirl, Mr and Mrs Big Cheese were lively chatting with Mr and Mrs Big Shot. Small world, eh? This is Sandwich.

But so far so good, the match continued and I put my hat back again.

The score was tied. As soon as the fifth set started, Bob began to fidget around on his chair and shake his legs.

- Hey Len, I’m starving. Gonna get some grub at the counter. May I bring you something? –he asked-
- Ehm… yes, a diet coke, please.
- Babe, why were you covering your face with the hat?
- Don’t want to get sunburns. –I whispered-
- Jeez Len, why don't you just use sunmilk? Sometimes you’re real weird. –he said, staring at me-

He quickly left to the buffet and just some seconds after, my cellphone went.

- Hi sweetie, how are you?

I recognised Ed’s voice. I looked back and saw him wave hello from the presidential box. And so did Hellgirl, who was sitting next to him.

- I’m fine, thanks. Nice to speak to you. I thought you were travelling.
- I’m flying to Burdishland tomorrow, babe. Why are you watching the match with Mr. Arsehole Man?
- Oh pack it in, Ed.
- Next time you see me with a woman and you call me into account after blowing up your temper, remember this.
- Bob only invited me to the match. There’s nothing more to add.
- That’s excellent. But I’m still waiting for the answer to some questions you brilliantly avoided a few weeks ago.

I knew that. The hour of truth was arriving for me and I was postponing it deliberately. I hated ultimatums, but after our recurrent affair, I owed him an answer for his repeated attempts to bring to an end my ‘available status’.

I had no power on my feelings and emotions, but desperately tried to hold them back; I was afraid to be lost in a flush of love; scared to think he might not be the right person; terrified to surrender independence and change my lifestyle; worried about the age gap and maturity differences between us.

And yet, my heart skipped a beat every time he was around. More than I could ever remember with any other man I had met in the past. Sometimes I even scared myself at the depth and intensity of my feelings for him.

I needed to strengthen our connection rituals before committing; to feel our empathy; to share our inner selves. I needed not only physical intimacy, but also emotional and spiritual closeness. And above all: I needed reciprocity.

I knew I was very demanding. I never found what I was looking for in my whole life, so I always assumed I was asking for too much.

- Ed. –I said-
- Yes?
- Can we meet now? I don’t think we should discuss this on the phone.
- You’re right. Let’s meet at the second floor terrace.

I rushed. I almost ran into Bob on my way to the terrace. He was carrying a big bag of sandwiches, ice cream and two soft drinks.

- Hey, where are you going, Len? –he asked-
- Eew… loo! I have an emergency! –I shouted, running to the corridors-
- Oh, ok but you’ll be missing the game! –he said, disappointed to see me run away-

Yes, I know this was a bloody awful miserable lie and I regretted that, but I had no choice.

I ran upstairs as fast as I could, asking myself why I was feeling so nervous and excited about meeting Ed. When I got to the second floor, he was standing there in the shadow, leaning on the ballustrade of the terrace.

There was nobody around and that made him look so lonely and strong at the same time. He smiled at me and I thought I was burning in a fire of a thousand years in the making. But I held back my passion for him.

- Hi sweet princess. Let’s hide over there; there are reporters around and I wouldn’t want to be photographed. –he said-

I smiled and followed him to the other side of the terrace, where nobody could see us.

- How are you? –I asked-
- How long will it take you to say ‘How are you, my love’? –he asked back-

I blushed and didn’t know what to answer.

- Come near, please –he insisted-. I love you, little one. You know that, don’t you?

I approached him and smiled. He grabbed my face and kissed me deep and passionate. Two seconds later, a great roar filled the Arena. Sandwich had won the match.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed his endless kiss. His stiff tongue licked and tickled my upper lip. I wanted more, and he started sucking gently on my lower lip. He wrapped his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I took a deep breath and quietly moaned with pleasure. Then he tenderly kissed my eyes, my cheeks, my forehead, my hands and I thought I was going to melt right there.

Before our kiss would end, I saw what looked like several flashlights at the deserted corridor, opposite to the terrace. Somebody was taking pictures of us. Ed held me tight and whispered into my ear:

- Oh fuck, don’t look. I knew this would be happening sooner or later. I’m sorry, Leni, but I’m afraid you and I will be in the gossip pages tomorrow.

I rested my face on his chest. Ed covered my face with his hands, so that I wouldn't be recognized in the pictures. He became pale, but I was floating on a cotton cloud, dancing in the dark.

I didn't realise what was coming.




"A whiter shade of pale" (Procol Harum)

When pigs fly

Lilly had always dreamed of that day. Her little life, lazily splashed with amazing fantasies, looked rose-coloured through her glasses.

As a Southernese girl born in a remote Orsinian village, life inspired her motivational stories. Three favourite movie heroines were a reflection of her favorite fantasy:

Muriel Heslop, from Purpoise Spit, Australia: The Aussie girl who found happiness and success in her gloomy existence on the day of her wedding, Abba’s songs resounding as her life’s background music.

Toula Portokalos, from Chicago, Orsinia: The Greek girl who fell in love with a non-Greek man and struggled to get her family to accept him. She had her big fat wedding, and of course, it was love’s victory.

Loretta Castorini, the Italian widowed book-keeper from Brooklyn, Orsinia. Loretta thought it was time to marry again after several years of loneliness. She accepted the proposal of a nice, middle-aged fellow named Johnny Cammareri but discovered that in startling contrast to the pleasant, mild-mannered Johnny, his youngest brother Ronny -moody and passionate- was the man she really loved. She was moonstruck.

Those were the stories she liked: beautiful stories with happy endings.

Her wedding dress was on a dummy, in the dressing room. Her veil and the jewels she would be wearing, were immaculate white. Classic. Not like those modern impossible colours some brides wore in Europe: graphite black, pink champagne, ice blue, dusky red. Fashion designers must have gone all crazy.

- A bride in red or black… how funny is it? –she thought and shook her head in disapproval-.

I may be wrong, but I always thought a white bride as a symbol of purity nowadays is something quite flippant; yet, most brides still wear white. Purity itself is an ambiguous concept, hard to define, old-fashionedly misunderstood and more likely to be found in the mind and the soul, rather than in the body. But that is debatable and controversial. And I’m too lazy to discuss the aspects of my point here.

Wedding ceremonies are so beautiful that some people may easily feel like getting married just for the sake of enjoying one of the most emotional and colourful days of their lives. Everybody deserves an awesome moment of glory once in a lifetime. Some even sanctify it for the rest of their lives.

And that glorious day of July 2008, the soon-to-be Mrs. Lilly Brantsch, formerly known as Miss Tigerlilly Mistyglass Hamseller, firmly believed her life would surely change.

I couldn’t help being on a dreamy bluesy mode that day. It must have been the solemn organ music resounding in my ears; the pretty bridesmaids in flashing pink; the soft smell of summer flowers on the church benches. The truth is I felt an overwhelming emotion inside me.

Max was a gorgeous groom. He looked great in his tux. He waited patiently for her in the aisle, alternatively checking his watch and looking at the church gates. As a proud Zantlander, he was punctual as a Swiss watch; but just like every bride in her day, Lilly was allowed a little unpunctuality. And twenty minutes later, there she was. So pretty. The happiest woman on earth.

I felt the sudden urge to go out. The black diamond cat charm I was wearing became a black bat and started chocking me like a tight rope. I was frightened. I covered the shiny black bat with my hands, so that Bob –who was sitting beside me- wouldn’t see it. I needed to leave the church on the spot. Bob stared at me, surprised, and asked:

- Are you okay?
- I need some fresh air. I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t move. -I said-

I rushed to the street, sat on the stairs and removed the choker thing from my neck. I watched the metamosphosed tidbit in amazement. It had black wings and red tiny eyes that… glowed!

- Wow, what a nice Lolita in her red minidress. You look so gorgeous, Leni –said Ed Davies on his huge motorbike, pointing at me-

I looked back. I couldn’t believe it was him again.

- For Pete’s sake, man, make some noise to let me know you’re there and stop scaring me! Didn’t you have business to attend to? By the way, this is for you –I said returning the black diamond bat to him-

He jumped off his bike, pulled my arm strongly and whispered in my ear:

- Hey baby, I’m not trying to scare you. It’s just that you’re easily frightened. And this is yours. –he answered, sharply giving me the charm back, hitting my hand-
- Then why you seem to be everywhere? Here, there and all over the place, yesterday, today and tomorrow? Or is it just my imagination?

He laughed loudly and said:

- I could say the same thing about you.
- Ohmm. Don’t be the smartypants.

He took a deep drag from his cigarette and laughed loudly.

- That’s because I got your number, little miss Sandwich.
- I don’t want this. It’s a weird present. And it’s choking me. –I said, giving him the black bat-

That was rude. He looked very dissapointed and I fell sorry.

In the meantime, the wedding ceremony was over. The church gates were opened abruptly and a screaming crowd rushed outside, throwing rice and rose petals to the newlyweds.

The bridesmaids surrounded them when Lilly announced that she would be tossing her bouquet. Everybody knows that the "lucky" lady who catches it will be the next to get married.

Lilly threw the bouquet at the screaming group of girls. The competition to catch it became a stampede. The flowers flew in slow motion; did a quadruple sommersault in the air; looped describing a weird path and finally landed… on my head!!!

The bridesmaids yelled and pounced on me; Ed laughed his ass off; Bob gasped in anger.

I got up and escaped in a panicky mode, moving the flowers out of my way. To my amazement, the big flower bouquet followed me whilst bouncing along the bumpy road, leaving pink petals trace behind.

I headed down the road and didn’t stop running until I realised I could run, but couldn't hide: the flowers would follow me, no matter how far I would go. I deeply sighed and flopped down on the sidewalk, grabbing in my right hand the flowerless bouquet. I kicked off my shoes, overwhelmed with anger and rage.

Ed started his bike and approached me.

- It seems someone will marry you soon, Leni. -he laughed-
- I hope it happens when pigs fly! –I said, real cross-
- What a touchy little person you are. Getting married is not that bad! –he said laughing loudly-.

I threw the remainder of the bouquet to his face and shouted:

- Get married, then!

I couldn’t help it. These things make me real nervous.




"Tranquilize" (The killers)

High on virtual drugs

It was early in the morning when someone knocked at our hotel room door. I got up; opened it; looked at both sides of the corridor… but there was nobody around.

I looked down and saw a small red box on the floor with my name written on it in black characters. I kneeled down, took it and opened it. To my huge surprise, there was a black diamond charm in the shape of a cat, shining with an amazingly rich and deep shine. There was also a tiny handwritten note saying “You’re all I want. Ed.”

I definitely couldn’t accept that present. I could see problems coming. I sighed.

I went back to the room and rapidly hid the red box underneath my string with a fast movement of my hands, but it fell on the floor. Bob had just got up and saw it.

- Who knocked on the door, Len? –he asked-
- Euh… I don’t know, probably someone from the hotel housekeeping did by mistake. But I couldn’t see anyone. –I answered-
- What’s that? –he said, pointing at the red box-.

Unfortunately, I had no choice but lying:

- It’s a charm that my granny gave me some time ago –I said, in a great display of talent-

Grrrrrr... what a whopper! I turned back; opened the box; quickly removed Ed’s note so that Bob wouldn’t see it and showed him the charm.

- It’s very beautiful. Are you wearing it at the wedding? - he asked-
- Yes.

All of a sudden, he sniffed the air and asked me:

- Len... have you been smoking?

That question scared the hell out of me. I forgot to remove the ashtray where Ed had left his cigarette the night before. And his glass of Scotch!

So I had no choice but to invent a second lousy white lie. I got closer to him, stroke his chest and said:

- Err… hehehe, I missed the smoke of your blunts, baby. I had a drink and felt like lighting a cigarette. Really don’t know why I did that. A silly whim of mine, I suppose –I giggled-

What a bloody cheat. I neither drink nor smoke. In Sandwich we say that you can catch a liar faster than a cripple. It explained my fear so perfectly.

Of course, my answer was shit; strange; not credible; but I conveniently disguised it with a cute tiny kiss, and things seemed to be settled; at least for the moment.

At 6:00PM, as agreed with Hellgirl the day before, the Percy man came to fetch us. I felt very disappointed to see him in his human shape again, formally dressed with a black tuxedo.

- Good evening, honey. –said Percival-
- Good evening Percy. Long time no see. –I said-
- Hellgirl keeps me real busy, Leni. –he said-

He smiled.

- Let me introduce you to Bob, my boyfriend. -I said- Bob, this is Percival… whatever. –I couldn’t remember his distinguished family name-
- Von Der Twit-Wingnutty of Twatshire. –said Percy-

They shook hands formally. When Bob went to the room to get his jacket, I asked Percy with a low voice:

- Has Hellgirl forgiven you yet? She said you to me you had the tiny red demon shape again.–I asked-
- That's right, but I can’t walk through the streets of New Calexico as a red demon, or the FBI would put me under arrest and use my body as part of their biogenetic experiments. You silly girl. Hellgirl gave me back my human shape temporarily. I’ll be back to devil mode at the party. Does your boyfriend know about Hellgirl and me?
- No.
- No???

Percy looked very concerned about that. He had a white limo waiting for us at the hotel entrance. On our way to Lilly’s ranch, he asked Bob:

- So I bet you must have heard about us, Bob, right? Because we have heard a lot about you in Hell.

Bob stared at Percy, not knowing what to say.

- Bob, remember when I said to you I see supernatural people? –I asked-
- Yes.-he answered-
- Well, Percy is one of them.

Bob started freaking out, and Percy sent a red paralyzing light beam right to his chest.

- I can't stand these thin-skinned blokes! You should give Ed a chance, Leni. He’s handsome, clever and filthy rich. He will publish all your books if you only ask nicely. And he’s crazy about you. This Bobby man is a crappy dude. Everybody knows that Hell people exist! How can he possibly not believe that? -said Percy-
- Don't be rude, Percy! I love him and that's that. Now bring him back to the world, please. And I hope he is feeling good.
- Ok, dear, but he won’t remember anything of what has just happened here.

Percy snapped his fingers and Bob went back to reality. The three of us were quiet for the rest of the trip.

When we arrived in Lilly’s ranch, the guests were redirected to the hen or stag party upon their arrival. Then, there would be a disco party for all, men and women.

- I feel very uncomfortable with that stag night invitation, Len. I haven’t forgotten yet that horrible fight Max and I had on the phone not so long ago –said Bob-.
- I’m afraid you can’t skip it. I’ll see you then at the disco party. –I said-

Percy made a hit at the hen party with his red top hat. He was flying completely naked, escaping from the crowd of pissed women who were running after him like headless chickens and screaming like banshees.

- Leni!!! Save me!!! –shouted Percy-
- They just want your sex, Percy! Oh, nice mini-package by the way –I laughed-

Hellgirl approached me and offered a glass of mysterious drink.

- Drink it in one gulp, Leni. It’s virtual DMT. You’ll get high. -she said-
- Hellgirl, I’m not on drugs. Never been and never will be.
- Honey, virtual drugs are not addictive, and therefore neither dangerous nor harmless. I grant you can have as much as you want from them, just as if they were candies. Actually, I’m high on virtual barbituates now. Hm… this track is too slow… -she said, at the sound of the super speedy song-

She convinced me, as she always did. I took a deep sip from my glass and all of a sudden, my left hand seemed to grow bigger and bigger.

- Whooooooooaaaaaaaaaaa!!! –I wowed, under the effects of the drink, amazed at the changing shape of my hand-
- Alright girls? Do you know where I can buy some virtual ecstasy tablets? –asked Percy-
- Get lost, pig! – said an unknown girl who heard him ask-
- I think the guy in red down there has some –said Hellgirl, dropping four of these tablets into Percy’s glass when he was not looking-.

Lilly and Max were leaving the disco. She didn’t seem to be feeling well.

- She’s having a bad trip. Too much virtual Rohypnol –whispered Hellgirl into my ear-

Percy had recovered his human appearance again and was shirtless dancing with two gay dudes, shaking his big belly from one side to the other. Hellgirl said to me:

- Percy is not into men, but after the overdose of ecstasy he could fuck all day, even in the ass. Talking about fuck… Leni, where’s your Bobby dude?
- I don’t know, I haven’t seen him since we got here.
- Hm… I’d love to meet him. Let’s look for him.

A stoned guy tried to hold the reflection of the laser ray that moved to the rhythm of the music. A general view of the dance floor showed at least three hundred people dancing and frantically jumping at the sound of some hypnotic trance music.

We crossed the dance floor and headed to the gents.

- I bet the Bobby bloke is here –she said-.

She opened the door and we went in. Most guys were doing their own thing at the urinals. No one paid attention to us.

A small group was peeing onto the wall. Bob was among them, jumping nervously like a monkey, splashing the wall with tiny droplets of… ew.

- Mind your step, Leni. It gets on the soles of your shoes and the tips of your shoelaces. Not to mention your beautiful red Manolos that probably costed you a fortune. –she said, pointing at my high heels-
- Jeeez… why don’t they just pee in the bushes? They don't even have to sit down!

I stepped back, disgusted.

- Heeeeey Len! –shouted Bob-

He zipped his jeans and approached us jumping all his way.

- He’s high on virtual uppers, Leni. But don’t worry. He’ll be fine tomorrow. -said Hellgirl-

Bob carried me in his arms and we hopped along to the dance floor. We lost Hellgirl.

The effects of virtual DMT appeared stronger in me as I finished my drink: I started strip-pole-dancing for Bob in the middle of the dance floor. Although he was too busy monkey-jumping, my dance certainly made a hit.

Everybody was rather pissed and stoned. The variety of circulating virtual drugs was endless. For endless and varied was the herd.

The only clean people appeared to be a group of gatecrasher Japanese ladies filmed at the party video -below-. They certainly looked exotic among the local gang.

“E-Talking” (Soulwax)

Alec Magnus strikes again

When I woke up, Ed was still beside me. I had slept for three hours resting my head on his shoulder.

- Good morning to you. Sleeping that much at odd times is not good to prevent jet lag, Leni. -he said-
- Hmmm.
- How do you feel?
- Like crap. I have a pounding headache.
- You should do something about your fear of flying. There are crash courses, therapies, drugs…
- Ok. I promise to think about it tomorrow. Are we flying yet?
- Yep.
- Jeez. And next week I have to fly back.
- Unless you plan to settle in Orsinia and live there forever.
- No way! I’m very happy in my little island.

I sat up and stretched myself.


- Hrm… can I ask you… are you an Aries, Leni?
- Hm. No. I’m a Virgo with an Aries ascendant.
- You said Virgo???
- Yes. Why?
- Don’t tell me you have a dark mole on your left breast. Sorry for the strange question, but I need to know.

I undid the buttons of my shirt; had a thorough look and, yes! I had a tiny black mole on my left breast.

- How did you know that? -I asked him-
- Oh my god.
- What?
- Are you kidding me?
- No, I’m serious.
- I will explain it to you, but you will never believe me. Left or right?
- Left. Why?
- Are you sure it’s on the left?
- Of course I am. Look.

I undid the buttons of my shirt once more and showed it to him. He approached me to have a closer look. His long hair brushed my neck and breasts softly. It tickled me.

- Oh my… what a lovely breast… and what a lovely mole… -he said, gasping-

I saw his eyes glow from brilliant blue… to fierce red! For a split second I feared he would bite my neck.

- Ok… Now tell me… what’s the matter with the mole on my breast?
- Have you ever heard about ‘The book of life and death’?
- No. Is that some book kinda HP Lovecraft’s ‘Necronomicon’ or something like that?
- Hm… No, it’s not that or Ctulhu. These are lost legends, mad and blood-thirsty evil beings. But ‘The book of life and death’ is something else. It was written some centuries ago by an unknown author from a remote Eastern country. He made a deal with the devil to live 250 years and have visions of the future, which he wrote in a book about the future of mankind. Blinded with ambition, his soul was reborn in hell and he was condemned to be writing the book for all eternity. Until the end of the world… Doomsday, or whatever the fuck comes first.
- He lived 250 years??? I’ve never heard of that book in my whole life.
- Everyone have their own page about their future in the book.
- Really? These Hell things never cease to amaze me. But what does it have to do with me?
- I’ve read my page and it says I will have three marriages in my life... the last one is Virgo… and she’s supposed to have a dark mole on her left breast. The book says I will marry that woman and have a wonderful life with her til I die. And I already had two wives; you’re Virgo; you have a mole on your left breast.

That story really scared the hell out of me. Talking about deals with hell. Would I have to live 250 years until I wrote my goddam book for Hellgirl? And… on top of it, would I be Ed Davies’ third wife till he died? What a nightmare.

- Man, what a load of baloney! –I said, giggling nervously-
- Ask Hellgirl. She will be at the wedding with Percival.

I stopped the giggles on the spot. Could it be true?

- I bet I’m not the only September girl with a black mole on her left boob.
- Prolly not. But you’re the only one I know. And you’re near me. That’s an important detail –he said, staring at me-.

Suddenly I saw Bob appear in the corridor and stare at Ed. Bob was angry angry.

- You should be ashamed of using dirty tricks to make out with gullible girls, asshole. -he said-
- Mind your own busines, man. You have no idea of what we’re talking about. You’re a scumbag idiot. -said Ed-

Bob raised his hand to punch him, but I stopped him. He was beside himself.

- Bob, please… don’t… -I said-
- If you wanna see some tits and arses go look for them somewhere else, but not here. Wanker. Len, come with me, please. I’d like to have a word with you. -he shouted at Ed-

I buttoned up my shirt and followed him. In the corridor, he bent down and whispered into my ear:

- Babe, is it my imagination or were you showing your tits to that fucker?
- Err… no, not exactly.
- What exactly, then? I saw you undoing your shirt and showing him your breasts! Don’t deny the obvious! Come sit with me, there’s an empty seat next to mine.

Wow what a change! The indolent and sluggish blond tall alpha male known as Bob Gausman was making a fuss because his girl had shown the mole on her left tit to another guy!

- I can explain that. -I said-
- Ok, let’s hear what you have to explain.
- Remember I told you I see things?
- Oh, no. Not that again.
- Bob, please, listen to me. It’s important for me to share this with you and I’d appreciate your support here. I need you to believe in me.

How to start?

- When we met, you said to me you didn’t want to have a relationship.
- Yes, I remember.
- That really fucked me, because I was… I am, desperately in love with you. You had just broken up with Lilly. Now here comes the funny stuff: you were wearing those boxers she gave you. You didn’t know that, but they were hexed, and you were still infatuated with her. So I made a deal with hell to break that spell and then tried to win your heart by myself.
- And you expect me to believe that cock and bull story and think you’re mentally sane?
- It’s not a cock and bull story.
- I am not a believer, Len. I don’t believe in Supreme Beings.: there is only one God, and it is I.
- I wasn’t either, until this story happened.

He sighed and chuckled, skeptical.

- I know I sound nuts, Bob. But I promise you I’m not. Lilly and Max know about that too. There will be some hell people at the wedding. You will know them and I hope you believe me then.
- This is crazy, Len. It confuses me, makes me nervous and upsets me big time. I can’t help it. This is why I got mad at you when you told me you see things and I’m very sorry for that, but it’s stronger than me. I guess I should give you a vote of confidence. Is that what you’re expecting from me?
- Yes.

It was indeed stronger than him. When we arrived in Orsinia, I cancelled my bookings and stayed with him in his hotel room.


He had to let off steam somehow. After dinner, he switched his laptop on and played Enemy Territory so fiercely and with such violence that he defeated everybody under his nom de guerre: Alec Magnus.

He killed all the players in the virtual scene, just because I said I saw things and he was puzzled.

I was quietly writing down in my notepad some ideas for my book, when I noticed he was staring at me.

- What? -I asked-
- Len. Come here, please.

I approached him slowly and straddled him, as he was expecting me to do. He kissed me and sucked on my lips, excited by the taste of strawberry lipstick that he so liked. He undid the buttons of my shirt; stroke my breasts. He traced a finger around my nipples, rubbing them gently until they were hard.

Then, he then held me tight and whispered into my ear:

- Tell me you’re mine, Len. Only mine.

Anger, rage, fury and madness faded rapidly.

Yes, angry make up sex is sometimes fantastic.

"The ghost of you" (My Chemical Romance)

The Russian roulette

I don’t drink normally. Except when I fly.

To me, flying is like playing Russian roulette. You may crash or you may not. I know the statistics say flying is the safest way to travel; but the more you fly, the higher your chances are of crashing. This is how I see it. Thinking rationally about acceptable risks… just a stroke of bad luck and... boom! You’re gone.

Yet I need to fly quite often. And, believe it or not, I even have a frequent flyer card.

So what do I do when I take a long distance flight? I can’t help getting more paranoid than normal; I start thinking I'm putting my life at risk; I drink until I get sloshed and pretend I’m an educated flyer until I drop dead. Two drinks are enough to raise my blood alcohol level up to moderate intoxication phase: enough to keep me totally out of it for several hours. Then, the procedure needs to be repeated a few times, if necessary, upon arrival. ’Cos if I’m supposed to crash… I don’t really need to know in advance.

This is what I decided after a horrific bumpy flight from Chicago, Illinois, to Appleton, Minnesota, when the plane entered the ‘mother of all storms’ and the trip turned into a scary roller coaster.

The reason why all this is brought here is that some days ago I received an invitation to a wedding in Orsinia: Max and Lilly were getting married. So I asked for some days off at work and bought a round-trip plane ticket to Orsinia.

It was D-Day, H-Hour, and before the plane took off, I got up to open the overhead compartment, where my iPod was: inside my hand baggage most hidden pocket. Once I succeeded to find it, I stuck the earplugs in my lobes and resigned myself to wait until the electronic devices could be switched on again; I would need some chill-out music to help my two alcopops work better. Suddenly, I spotted Bob sitting five rows behind me. I could say with certainty that he had been invited to the wedding too by his ex.

I quickly slid down my seat, expecting he hadn’t seen me; fastened my safety belt; breathed deep and focussed on relaxing. As soon as the plane took off, I ordered my two drinks and gulped them down. But my evasive manoeuvres were completely useless: he had seen me and he was approaching me.

- Oh my gawd, I see things… and I think I've seen a ghost! –he said, covering his face with his hands-
- Hello dickhead.
- Don’t hide, dummy, I spotted you as soon as you entered the plane. I suppose you’re going to the wedding too.

I nodded.

- I’ve been calling you, twat!!! –I shouted at him-.
- I love you too, baby, and I know you called.
- And why didn’t you answer my calls? I haven’t heard from you for two weeks! What a crappy boyfriend you are! You will never have me again! And I see things, but I’m not nuts!
- Not so sure about that, Len. -he said, calmly-
- I’ve been waiting at your door every single day! - I said, in tears-
- Don’t ever do that again! It makes me feel real bad.
- It’s intended to make you feel real bad! -I cried even louder-.
- You're wasted. Now finish your rant and sleep it off!

I was seriously considering the possibility of punching his nose real hard when I heard another familiar voice near me.

- Hiya Leni… and company. -said Ed Davies-

- Ed, this is... -I started introducing them to each other-
- Bob Gausman. Her boyfriend. –he interrupted me, very unfriendly-
- Ed Davies. Her editor. -he replied abruptly-

They shook hands with hostility.

- You’re okay, Leni? -asked Ed-
- I’m fine, thanks. And what a nice coincidence, by the way. -I smiled, already tipsy

- I have some business to attend to in Orsinia.
- We’re going to a wedding in New Calexico. My ex is marrying his ex. -I said, poiting at Bob-
-Fascinating. Sounds like a B-movie title with a happy ending.

I had enough sharpness and sarcasm and concluded I'd better move before one of them would fly across the floor with his feet over his head.

- I need too pee. Desperately. Urgently. I need to go. Seeya guys! -I said-

I got up immediately, as if I had been spring-propelled. Ed stepped back and left some room for me to reach the corridor. I went to the bathroom and then quickly staggered back towards my seat. I was already under the first effects of my therapy against fear of flying, when Ed sat on the empty seat next to mine.

- Hey, Leni, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t seem too comfortable.
- I don’t like planes.
- You’d better try to relax, baby. We still have a long way to go.

He tried another conversation subject, probably to distract me and help me chill out.

- So you’re going to a wedding. -he said-
- Yeah, strange how people still do these things in 2008, eh?
- What things?
- Getting married.
- Yeah, some people still do. What would you say if a guy asked you to marry him? Sorry for the strange question, but you're pissed and you're supposedly telling the truth.

He surprised me a bit, but I was able to give him a quick answer:

- I’d say ‘go to hell’.
- You’re such a sweet girl. –he laughed-
- Are you married, Ed?
- Hrm. Twice divorced.
- Gosh, not only married but divorced, remarried and divorced again… this is beyond my understanding.
- To be honest, when I got married I thought it was for life.
- That’s just crazy. Nothing is for life.

- Right, but it was late for me when I realised that. -he said, serious-

A sour-faced stewardess pushed angrily her trolley beside me.

- Excuse me… could I have two Glenlivets, please? Double, if possible. -I asked-

She nodded.

- I don’t drink Glenlivet, Leni. –said Ed-
- They’re both for me.
- You’re already pissed.
- So what?

That sounded like a good reason to stop pestering me.

- Ok. Let’s talk about something more interesting then. Like… last time we met, you didn’t tell me what you do for a living. Is this a good moment to ask? - he said-

I sighed.

- I was hired four years ago as a chief of staff by Dumbass Industries plc’s Big Cheese. -I answered-
- Wow! It sounds very cool.
- I know, but before you start asking for favours, let me tell you that I have no personal or positional power of my own. I only act on BC's behalf and with his authority. Out of this context, I'm a nobody.
- But you must have some privileges coming from your position. Dumbass is a big corporation.
- Oh, yes I'm right in the first place when Big Cheese is mad and gives everybody hell; but I have my own parking place, company laptop, free internet, e-mail and intranet remote access and also a Blackberry to be available at anytime, if that’s what you mean.
- And how do you like the company?
- Dumbass Industries is full of old stick-in-the-muds who passed their competitive examinations forty years ago and therefore think the whole company is their own damned business. Any attempt to change their inefficient fucking system, as shitty as a thousand years in the making, is doomed to fail.
- Oh bureaucracy and inefficiency. They're good at it.
- They have massive amounts of papers, most of them useless. They still use floppy disks, supposing they're able to use a computer. They use stuff like typewritters and liquid tipp-ex…
- So they’re reluctant to change or innovate…
- Sure. And I must be the youngest person there among all these fossildicks!
- Oh, are they? –he laughed-
- Yeah. They enter my office forty times every morning with one little paper each time, instead of seeing me once with the forty bloody things.
- Don’t blame it on them, baby Leni, You’re a sexy fox. You sure keep them rock hard all day. –he laughed, sipping from my glass of Glenlivet-
- Heeeey! Don’t you drink from my glass!!!–I protested-.
- Why? Is that just for Bob? Like calling you Len?

That was real nasty.

- That's none of your business. It's my glass, and I don't want your drool inside it. You said you didn’t drink Glenlivet! -I complained-
- You’re too young to drink that much –he said, taking no notice of what I said and drinking the rest of the Glenlivet.
- So nowadays… to enter the job market and find yourself a good job, you normally have to finish your college studies; go on Erasmus; do a master course; probably Phd too; speak ten languages fluently; and be young and gorgeous.
- Yeah, and I would add you must pass the competitive exam every day. At least this is how it goes with Big Cheese. But you don't need all that if your dad is the CEO.
- I’m not surprised you hit the bottle.
- Man, I'm not a drunkard! I told you I only drink when I fly!
- Good for you, then.

I gazed into his deep blue eyes with an evil smile.

- My turn to ask now.
- Ok.
- How old are you?
- Is that all you want to ask me?

- For the moment, yes.

- Ok. After a few acid trips… not as old as your fossildicks, but I'm too weird to live and too rare to die.
- Acid trips? –I stared at him-
- I’ve been twisted on drugs, but I’m clean now.

He stared back.

- Obviously, there’s a mini-generation gap between us.
- How old are you? -I insisted-
- Old enough to want you, babe.

He left me dumbfounded but I tried to act as if nothing happened, which was quite hard being drunk as a skunk.

- Ok... tell me more about your acid trips.

- I was a rebel in school. So naturally, when they told me to get my hair cut, I grew it. –he said, laughing-. I slotted into the strong subculture of these days. It was a magical time. But now it’s over. The shit’s still going on.
- So this is basically the reason why you let your beautiful black hair grow long. –I said, stroking gently his shiny long jet black hair-.
- There’s some pleasure in age and wisdom. I definitely would have shagged more women. Oh, but of course baby, we both know that’s not what life is about. –he laughed-
- But you haven't answered me yet... how old are you?
- Listen, Leni. I’m a bit shy about my things. I'm 45. Old enough to want you badly. Now finish your Scotch and sleep it off. I’ll wake you up before we land.

(To be continued)

“Russian roulette” (Jesse Malin)

Somewhere in New Calexico

The day after, Max woke up with a splitting headache. He could hardly open his eyes. Percy was sitting right in front of him; holding a glass and shaking its contents, patiently waiting for him to wake up.

- How do you feel, mate? –asked Percy-.
- Oow! Don’t shout! I feel terrible. –answered Max, grabbing his head in pain-.
- I’m not surprised. You drank like a fish yesterday. You’re now under the effects of the usually referred to as ‘a hangover from hell’. But fear not. I’m coming up with a solution that never fails –he said, showing him the glass-. This is a fast and complete cure for your problem, whose ingredients are:

A cup of coffee.
A raw egg.
The nail of a bat.
A hair of a mad dog.
The bone of a snake.
A bit of powder to cheer you up and the regular stuff you use to give a better taste to your dishes: honey, pepper, cinnamon...

- I’ll die on the spot if I drink that –said Max, pointing at the glass, whose contents looked revoltingly yellow-brownish.
- O ye of little faith! You won’t die, my friend. Trust me. Drink it down in one go. We don’t have much time: the lady is waiting.

That seemed to convince Max. He drank the concoction and rushed to the bathroom, where he expunged the contents of his stomach with a dreadful vomicane that could be heard for miles around.

- So burning the candle at both ends, huh? Man, you’re a wreck! You’re not going to seduce her with your bad breaths and disgusting stench! Your feet stink like French cheese! Eeek! And you say my farts smell bad! –said Percy, pinching his nose-

Percy draw a pentagram in the air and a rain of tiny Orsinian flags started falling over Max, changing his appearance into the one of a hot, desirable, eligible bachelor: spic-and-span and perfect looking. He was dolled up and ready to go out.

- Now you look like a real alpha male. Let me show you what the lady looks like, so that you can start lickin’ your lips. And wear this, please. – said giving him the boxers- Don’t get scared if you suddenly lose your Zantlander accent and start talking like an Orsinian; that’s just normal.

Max obeyed blindly and put the boxers on. They fitted him perfectly.

Percy’s second trick was to conjure up a scrapbook of the 1998 Santa Fe Highschool Meeting. The beetch had been crowned Beauty Queen that year. The words ‘Miss Plus 98’ could be read from the white strip on the golden latex bath suit that fitted her body like a perfect skin; the crown on her head haloed in fake diamonds and gold with the dubious taste of kitsch.

- Whohoo!!! She’s real hot!!! –exclaimed Max-
- Man, somebody get a drool bucket! She’s not blind date material, but there’s something you should know about the fabulous blonde: that gal is a real country hick; daft as a brush; pretentious; solipsistic; self-deceited; she lacks perspective and forgets the past easily; so… how do you like her? –asked Percy-
- Oh, she’s perfect! –said Max enthusiastically-
- Yeah… for every rip there’s a patch, I suppose. That’s an unequivocal truth; here, there and everywhere. Let’s go then, mate.
- Where?
- Santa Fe; State of New Calexico; Orsinia. Hold tight!

Percy sat on Max’s left shoulder and pronounced an orbiting spell. They flew across space and time until they spotted the borders of the State of New Calexico drawn as a square portion of the Orsinian map and landed smoothly on the roof of a public library. Percy took his field glasses and scanned the horizon.

- Good. The gal is going to have a milkshake and chat session at that cyber cafe over there –he said, pointing at the cafe in the corner-. You must pour this on her drink and make sure you’re the first one she sees right after. She will fall madly, deeply and hopelessly in love with you. By the way: her name is Tigerlilly, but everybody calls her Lilly. Good luck, man. If you need any help, just give me a shout.

They shook hands. For obvious reasons, Percy became invisible, but audible only to Max. He entered into the cafe and discreetly sat at the counter, where he set up his observation post.

Lilly took one of the laptops; she sipped from her milkshake glass; logged into her messenger account; she smiled, very pleased to see her Zeewlander ex was on. She IMd him:

“Hi there”.

***************************************************************************

That night I logged into msn after a long break, just in case there was someone around. To my surprise, there was a small orange light flashing in my toolbar.

- Len!!!
- Hello stranger –I typed. If he could just see me smile-
- How are you doing, baby?
- I’m just fine, and you?
- Not too bad. Watching some footy. Supporting South Sandwich now that we’ve lost, hahaha. –he suddenly stopped laughing-. Oh my gawd.
- What?
- My ex is IMing me!

I gasped. The bitch struck again. What a mood-killer. It really messed me up.

- She just said ‘Hi there’ and then kept very quiet. -he said-
- Oh. And when did you say you split up with her?
- December last year.
- Are you still friends?
- No, not friends.
- Ah. Ok.

In all honesty, I didn’t know what else to say. She was still the dog in the manger... to my consternation, tribulation and despair. The unexpected interruption really knocked me out.

- Hey, baby, are you there? Did you see the soccer match yesterday?
- Yes, we won. –I said, unemotionally-
- Congrats honey. The Red Fury is so cool.
- It certainly is. Sorry, Bob, I have a phone call. I’ll be right back.

The dictionary described my destructive emotion as the feeling of being threatened by a rival in a romantic relationship. And I so hated that.

I logged off on the spot, without even saying goodbye.

***************************************************************************

Meanwhile, at the Santa Fe cyber cafe, Max decided to try the direct approach.

- Hey sweet princess. –he smiled to her-
- Oh, hire yew, stranger? –she said smiling back, fluttering her eyelashes seductively-.
- My name’s Max and I come from Zantland. I wonder if you could spare me a minute of your precious time.
- Shore.

Max formally offered her a hand-kiss that had a great effect on her. She was overwhelmed by his chivalry.

- As I said before, I’m new here. I’m a bit lost.
- I seen ya, dude. Why didn chu come here and tawk to me before? –she asked him-
- I’m a bit shy. –he said, blushing-
- Aww Zantlandian, eh? Goodness gracious, wur is it? I was fixin to leave. I hain't had sump'n teet since dinner. –she said-
- Ehem... Zantlander. Not Zantlandian. I'd be pleased to treat you for lunch, then.
- Aww! If'n the Lord's willin' an’ the creek don't rise, I shore plan to fix sum nice Bobby-Q fer lunch. You prolly want to join me teet.

He could hardly understand her, yet he was so pleased that he merely nodded. It really didn’t matter to him, as long as they could speak the language of love. “Ain’t she sweet and hot?” –he thought-.

She certainly sounded like the Beverly Hillbillies, but the superposh Zantlander could very well cope with that! He suddenly remembered he still had to pour the magic brew into her milkshake.

- Hey sweety! Look out! Giant spiders falling from the ceiling! –he shouted-

That was brilliant. The trick worked: Lilly looked up with her mouth open in search for the dangerous insects as Max dropped the contents of the test tube directly inside her mouth when she was not looking. The effect was immediate: Lilly’s monitor flashed with laconic greetings from her Zeewland ex, returning her previous message.

“Hi” –answered Bob to her IM, out of conviction, rather politeness-

- Oh dang, not now, piss off! –she said, switching the laptop off and turning to Max-. So tell me Max… would’ya like to play with me? Cuz I have sum nice toys at my place. I have a crown and a throne fer ya and a leash fer me. I shore bet ya’d luv to spank me a lil’, cuz I been a bad bad girl, right? –she giggled, putting her arms around his neck-.

Max didn’t get her, but he kept nodding all the time, mesmerized by her beauty and sweetness. Percy was hiding inside the ceiling lamp, sighing and clapping his hands. He followed them to Lilly’s place and shouted into Max’s ear:

“Well done, mate! Now go ahead and have your fun! Spank her as much as you want, but give me the boxers first. Hellgirl must destroy them”

He didn’t get any reply from Max, who was very busy doing three things at the same time:

1.- Undoing Lilly’s bra with his right hand.
2.- Testing her butt’s firmness with his left hand.
3.- Looking sideways, in search for a good spanking place.

“I’ll do you this favour, mate, but you owe me one!” –he said, taking Max’s boxers off.

As soon as he had them, he orbited back to Hell, to report.




Clowns (Goldfrapp).

This is a beautiful song whose lyrics are incomprehensible to me (they seem to talk about Barbie Dolls, plastic surgery and tits, though). Anyway, the music is awesome. Enjoy!