I did not understand the story that opens the curtain of this column today. I am told, however, that it is risqué, which is why I suggest that people with dubious morals not read it. It happened that Don Maturio, lord of many calendars, traveled to the city where his grandchildren were studying, since he had not seen them for months. He took a bus that also had a group of beautiful girls who were part of a sports team. They wore tiny outfits, so much so that from below you could see up to the top and from above you could see down to the bottom.

The very short skirt exposed the stupendous thighs of the young women, while the open blouse almost escaped the turgidity of their upright busts. Don Maturio was an old gentleman, as I have already said, but that had not quenched certain ardors in him, so that the sight of those unveiled charms caused a shock in him that he had almost forgotten.

When he arrived at his grandchildren’s house, the eldest asked him: “Did you come on the bus, grandfather?” “Yes, son,” replied don Maturio, somewhat embarrassed. “But I hid it by pretending that he had an asthma attack.” (I did not understand it). We already know Capronio. He is a mean and inconsiderate man. In conversation with friends he commented: “My mother-in-law has a great resemblance to Frankenstein. If it weren’t for the mustache, she would be the living portrait of him.” He quoted one of his friends: “Frankenstein doesn’t have a mustache.” “But my mother-in-law does,” said Capronio. A certain teacher of mine always went to the fourth question.

Gallant expressions are no longer used that were previously an adornment of the elocution, so I consider it necessary to say that going to the fourth question means not having money. The phrase comes from the interrogation to which the priest subjected the groom who was going to marry a girl from his parish. After asking his generals, and if he was Catholic and single, he asked the fourth question: if he had the financial means to support a home, wife and children. At this moment it comes to my memory, and to the fabric of my heart, the dear figure of a teacher of mine from whom I learned a lot about philosophy, a difficult subject, but above all about life, an even more difficult subject. The sole support of his mother and two aireadita sisters – that’s what they said of those whose reason was clouded – he always went to the fourth question.

My teacher told me: “Let’s go to the cafe, dear Cato. But I’m unrepentant and impecunious, so I see myself in the painful precision of weighing on your budget.” Elegant and modest way of saying that I would be the one to pay the bill. He did it with great pleasure, because in an hour of chatting with him I learned more things than in a university semester. All this recollection helps me to narrate the story of two homeless people who were always like this, to the fourth question.

They passed in front of the window of a luxury restaurant that displayed on the sideboard the food it offered to its clientele. One of the poor saw them and said to his companion, “I’m going to imagine I’m eating the breast of that baked turkey, and then a big chunk of that pork leg, and then a dozen of those oysters, and finally, for dessert, a good portion of those strawberries with cream. Imagining all this was the shabby individual when a beautiful girl with exuberant forms and an undulating walk passed by. The beggar who had imagined this banquet followed her with his eyes, concentrated. Suddenly a spasm seized him, causing him to fall to the ground in violent convulsions. After the accident, his partner helped him to his feet and said: “You see, compadre? That’s what happens when you fuck after eating.” FINISH.


Stories of the creation of the world.
The Lord made the star.
And the Spirit commented:
-There can be no greater beauty.
The Lord made the rose.
And the Spirit commented:
-There can be no greater beauty.
The Lord made the dawn.
And the Spirit commented:
-There can be no greater beauty.
The Lord made the woman.
And the Spirit commented:
-Now yes: whatever the Lord does, there can be no greater beauty.
See you tomorrow!…


by AFA
“. The narcos have their saints.”.
And according to what is appreciated,
how evil spreads
if things stay the same
soon they will have their church.

Source: Debate

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J. A. Allen

Author, blogger, freelance writer. Hater of spiders. Drinker of wine. Mother of hellions.

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