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Happy Families_ Stories - Carlos Fuentes [36]

By Root 912 0
of you. You’re my husband.

I’m not going to think about problems anymore. When they come, I’ll know how to face them by myself. Of course I will.

He said this with a look that was not resigned but tranquil.

He seemed, Leo, to know more about what’s going to come than what already happened . . .

Why? What did he say to you?

He said he was at a crossroads because he hadn’t gotten from me the total love that lasts only one night . . .

What did you say?

Nothing. He got down on his knees. He placed his head against my belly and I caressed it.

You didn’t say anything to him?

Yes. I said, “I’ll never leave you.”

Why, Cordelia? Please tell me why you’re going back to him. You’re under no obligation. Do you want to be punished for the mere fact of having loved me?

No, Leo. It’s that only his eyes remember how I was when I was young. He tells me that. “You stay with me because nobody but me remembers your youthful beauty. Only I have your young eyes in my old ones.”

SHE TOOK OFF HER YELLOW DRESS. She didn’t hear the barking of the yellow dog in the courtyard. She allowed him to caress her loose yellow hair for a long time. She planned never to come back.

Chorus of the Father of Rock

Father Silvestre Sánchez cries out in vain, the mass of young people shouts weeps advances like a Roman legion in togas in sandals boots and totally Palacio miniskirts with the name and likeness of the fallen idol Daddy Juan printed on their backs singing and shouting the words to his songs

think twice before you go

when the lights go out

pretty girls don’t cry

it’s too late

I told you so

while Father Silvestre attempts in vain to counter the cacophony with the ancient music of the requiem

quiet children behave this is a religious service

dona eis domine

requiem aeternam

lux perpetua

now Daddy Juan’s coffin is in the open grave let me bless it before the gravediggers cover it in earth and then seal it carefully and the world is left in peace because you youngsters don’t want your idol to be eaten by dogs or worms, isn’t that right?

locked up in makesicko seedy

drowning in the shit of the cow the muck

fuckin with the nuts the gland

dancing to the mock the zooma

you’re divine Daddy Juan you carry God on your back Idol, even though you are God

anathema let it be anathema

Ana the ma-le tit be Ana

Ana Ledibee

if you love Daddy Juan so much respect the ceremony girls respect the remains and the girls advance uncontrollably in an avalanche crying shouting Daddy Juan don’t leave Daddy Juan let me toss you my panties, take my bra, here’s my Tampax, sainted god, sweet little daddy,

only Juan said Jesús is God

before Mateo or Lucas or Marco found the courage

Daddy Juan is God

Daddy Juan is like the sun three things in one thing light heat and star

Ana Theme

Daddy Juan came like a ray of light into our lives

Christ Jesus is effluence protection and erection

Daddy Juan was created established and projected

God is the word

The word is Daddy Juan

God is the shepherd the door the truth the resurrection

Daddy Juan guide us open us tell us resuscitate

the mob at the grave passes beers from hand to hand to mitigate grief and augment goodbye singing the songs of Daddy Juan and pushing Father Silvestre let me officiate in the name of God quiet crow here there’s no other God but Daddy Juan

here is Mexico Makesicko City here where they burned the feet of Cow the Muck where they stoned Mock the Zooma to death here the city was founded on water and rock and thorn and dust storms with glands and woven baskets the city of rock and roll perpetually at twelve on the Richter scale

here there’s no other savior father but our sweet Daddy Juan surrounded by loose earth and irate dust and mute cypresses and leaden sun daddy-oh daddy-oh

until they push Father Silvestre into the open grave of Daddy Juan and the mob of fifteen-year-olds in miniskirts screaming and singing at the grave grabs the shovels away from the gravediggers and begins to shovel dirt into the pit onto the body of Father Silvestre mute now though openmouthed lying

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