Free B004L2LMEG EBOK by Mario Vargas Llosa

compresses on his forehead and make tea for him. Yes, Chichi, I can see the surprised look on your face, even though you don’t believe it, Panta the teetotaler, who only drank pasteurized milk ever since he got hemorrhoids—falling-down drunk and with a thick tongue. Now it makes me laugh because I can remember how funny it was to see him stumbling over things and hear him complain, but at the same time I was in such a fit I wanted to cut off his you-know-what too. (No, I’d be cutting off my nose to spite my face, ha ha.) He swears to me and double swears that he has to go out at night on account of his assignment, that he has to search for some guys who only live in the bars, who make their appointments there to throw you off the track, and maybe it’s the truth. (Just like the spy movies, right?) But listen, would you be so calm if your husband spent the night in bars? No, well, my dear, not even if I was fool enough to believe you can only see men in bars. There have to be women there who come up to him and start conversations and God only knows what else. I’ve made a few terrible scenes, and he’s promised me not to go out at night anymore except when it’s a case of life or death. I’ve gone through all his pockets and shirts and underwear with a fine-tooth comb, because let me tell you if I find a shred of proof that he’s been with women, poor Panta. It’s not so bad because his mama helps me with all this, she’s horrified at his going out at night and his binges—her little boy, who she always thought was a church saint and who it now turns out isn’t quite that. (Oh, Chichi, you’d die if I told you.)
    And besides, because of that damned mission, he has to get together with people who’d make your hair stand on end. Just imagine, the other afternoon I’d gone to the matinee with a neighbor I’ve become friendly with, Alicia, married to a boy who works for the Bank of the Amazon, a very nice woman from Loreto who helped us a lot with the moving. We went to the Excelsior to see a Rock Hudson movie (hold me up while I pass out), and after getting out we were taking a little walk in the fresh air, when passing by a bar called the Camu Camu I see Panta at a table in the corner and what a pair he’s with! I nearly had a stroke, Chichi, the woman so covered with make-up there wasn’t room for a drop more, not even on her ears, with such tits and an ass spilling over the chair, and the guy was a little half-pint, so short his feet didn’t reach the floor, and what’s more, with an incredible ladykiller look. And Panta between the two of them, talking as lively as could be, as if they had been friends all their life. I said to Alicia, look, my husband, and then she grabbed me by the arm, very nervous, come on, Pocha, let’s go, you can’t go in there. So we left. Who do you think that pair was? The woman decked out like a parrot has the worst reputation in all Iquitos, Enemy Number One of home life, they call her Chuchupe and she has a brothel on the road to Nanay, and her lover, the dwarf, it’s enough to make you break out laughing, imagining her making it with that clown, she’s depraved and he’s worse. What do you think? Later I mentioned it to Panta, to see what his reaction would be, and of course, he choked on that bone so much he started to stammer. But he didn’t dare deny it to me, he admitted that this pair lead a bad life. And that he had to go find them for his assignment, that I should never go up to him if I see him with them and his mother even less so. I told him right then and there you can get mixed up with whoever you want to but if I ever find out you went to the parrot’s house in Nanay, your marriage is in trouble, Panta. So, my dear, imagine the reputation we’re going to get here if Panta begins to be seen on the streets with those people.
    Another of his pals is a Chink. I always thought that all Chinks were very delicate, but this one’s Frankenstein, even if Alicia