She married alone, although she went up to the altar of the Church of San Lesmes, in Burgos, hand in hand with her boyfriend: boyfriend for a day; wedding night flavored with burnt horn.
She was madly in love with a certain Tomasón. She had only been seen having a few drinks with mutual friends or co-workers in the bars on La Puebla and San Juan Streets.
“Since I saw the lollipop coming out of the toilet at the Bowery Bar on Calle la Puebla, I fell in love with him and I want to marry him, even if it’s for a day or a night,” she told us.
“But girl, are you crazy?”
“Yes: madly in love. That lollipop ding dong brings me bitterness down the street.”
She was tired of fucking, sticking salt and parsley up her vagina or an embroidery needle, to have an abortion in November and April, and she wanted to settle down.
And she got married. In the church of San Lesmes in the Plaza de San Juan, for more details. The wedding night, her honeymoon, the old man got in and out of her; they celebrated at the Hotel Monjes Magnos on Cardenal Benlloch Street.
The next day, which was Monday, since they were married on a Sunday, they went to the Court on Avenida de Reyes Católicos and got divorced.
She told us:
“The wedding night was fireworks. While I was naked on the bed, when I saw him come with his lollipop all erect, my vagina, which had the mouth of a piglet, opened until it wanted to be fed. This, at the same time, made me laugh so much that he, with the force he put into penetrating me, ran on the bed, the floor and the walls, putting his head between my thighs, healing me from my madness of love because I laughed at what I saw.
“I wasted no time, of course, and, like a madwoman, I began to catch and collect the sperm and spermatozoa; I put them in my vagina, well, above all things, I wanted to get pregnant with him no matter what.
“Meanwhile, he gloried in shaking his lollipop to see if he came back to another erection; but, ‘if you want Catalina rice; any.’
“I had to tell him:
‘Tomasón, stop shaking it now and have a glass of Chinchón; dry anise, better. Your lollipop, now, is named lollipop; popo, shit.’”
Daniel de Culla is a writer, poet, painter and photographer. He’s a member of the Spanish Writers Association, Earthly Writers International Caucus, Poets of the World, (IA) International Authors, Surrealism Art, Friends of the Blake Society, and others. Daniel is the director of Gallo Tricolor Review and Robespierre Review. He participated in many festivals of poetry and theater in Madrid, Burgos, Berlin, Minden, Hannover, and Genève.
