The idiots dinner

With David I have learned to arrive elegantly late everywhere. It is the same as being late without further ado, just that you apologize and change the subject immediately; Thus it seems that your delay is the collateral effect of a very interesting life. We are going to dinner and he has cooked almost everything so that I mount with the skill of a rotten corpse some piquillo peppers stuffed with an avocado mix, onion, carrot, apple and lombard; David shower while I sodomed those peppers with the spoon and trembling hands and it has been a good time that we had to have left.

Behind us jump down the whole Madrid, an incessant sway of lights that light up and turn off on a black background and the collapsed applied of the cobblestones of General Ricardos remembers games of ladies broken down by our steps, pulling chips on kicks from the board, while he holds a baking sheet covered by aluminum foil and I carry a bag with two or three bottles of wine.