I’m with my friend Sisebuto on Avenida de Reyes Católicos, in Burgos capital, watching his Amadis dog shit, him with admiring eyes of that shit that his dog takes that looks like a cathedral spire, me with a disgusted face.

“Look, Ambole, my dog ​​Amadis shits in an arc on this little garden of colored flowers, of smiles and of love; how beautiful my dog’s song is.”

“Yes, Sisebuto, we who are from the galanes party and we go to Gamonal to eat titos in the traditional festival of San Antón, we admire that eagerness of your dog Amadis to shit.”

Sisebuto was reluctant to pick up that shit from his dog and put it in a plastic bag to put in a wastebasket, but Ambole demanded that he pick it up and throw it away, which was the civic thing to do.

“You have done well, Sisebuto.”

“Hey, Ambole, have you read the news in the press that says that the Spaniards are the biggest fuckers in Europe?”

“Yes, Sisebuto. A fallacy. The biggest fuckers in Europe are the Italians, who don’t mind doing it with young girls, ladies, and old women. Also, in the in-and-out dance, they love to suck the meringue-smeared laughing pussies of other cocks.”

“Something that disgusts us Spaniards because of religious convictions.”

“It’s true, Sisebuto. Sucking pussies gives us the creeps. Remember that whore we met at Club La Boheme, all of her hell-bent on us licking her pussy.”

“Yes, Ambole. She told us:

“‘Let’s see if you suck my pussy now with the grace and gallantry as in that hour and day you squandered when fucking.’”

“Yes, Ambole. Under the canopy of the arch of her two thighs, our cocks cooed in unison with the most fiery drumming of our eggs in her tambourine ass.”

“Ha ha ha, Sisebuto. Now you know that I walk this dog on the banks of the Vena River and she gives me free sex when she sees me sigh.”

“Yes, Ambole. How well you have mounted it; well, you ride it. She is an industrious and very pretty whore who has a little thing where our love nests.”

“Yes, Sisebuto. Neither you nor I have found women from the land, having to go looking for them in hostess clubs where there are only dark-haired women from Cuba, Venezuela, the Dominican Republic, or Brazil.”

“Yes, Sisebuto. And even from Kenya and Tanzania, at which we look when we dance with them and we don’t see if they are red.”

“Remember, Ambole, that young brunette from Club Las Malvinas whose face we couldn’t see and she grabbed us by the cock and masturbated us for a couple of drinks.”

“Yes, Sisebuto. But remember, you too, what the pimp told us when we woke up from our drunken stupor:

“’Handsome, your masturbation has been made by the waiter from Morocco.’”