25
Death by Narcotics!
Sexual Psychopath Drugs Victim to Satisfy Abominable Lust
By Virginia Morales
Mexico City ⎯ Guadalupe Rosas Gonzalez was found dead in a hotel room in the city from an overdose of Nembutal administered by a disgusting low life.
The voluptuous 22 year old woman died at 18:00 hours when the fiendish youth, intent on subjecting her to all kinds a degradation, overdid the dose of Nembutal he allegedly administered to her in order to subject her to his most basic instincts.
Family members of the deceased stated that two months prior to the event they had submitted report No. 26874254 to the Attorney General’s Office regarding the disappearance of the young woman.
Guadalupe’s father, Vladimir Rosas, made a statement to reporters of El Alarma! that his daughter had disappeared on 30th April last after an argument between her and her parents because she had refused to fulfil her obligations within the family, said obligations were not revealed by the victim’s father.
Mauricio Guzman, a cleaner at the S... Hotel, stated having found the lifeless body of Guadalupe in a compromising position on the bed in room No. 10, with not a single piece of clothing covering her statuesque body. Faced with the horrifying scene, Señor Guzman rushed to advise the administrator of the hotel, who informed the police an hour later, such was his extreme shock at the sight of the beautiful goddess.
It is assumed that Guadalupe Rosas was abducted by a foul, cynical, sexual psychopath, who after drugging her forced her to go to the hotel of dubious reputation in order to make her the object of sexual passions, unimaginable to any normal human being. When the perpetrator realised his victim was dying in the throes of violent convulsions, he fled the scene like a coward, showing a lack of manliness and bad manners.
26
Well, what can I say? I didn’t particularly like or dislike Lolo Manón, how can I explain it? He was just my neighbour, that was all. We had nothing to do with each other and he hardly ever said, hello. I wouldn’t know what else to tell you, I’ve never liked to get involved with my neighbours; I only saw Lolo Manón once in a while on the street, talking to others like him, or just sitting down with the newspaper seller drinking liquor. As far as I know, he didn’t have anything to do with anyone and no one had anything to do with him, which is logical, ‘cos he was drunk the whole time; at least whenever I saw him he was as high as a kite. That’s also why I never struck up a friendship with him - I can’t stand drunks.
I remember one day I saw Lolo coming out of the Alvaro Obregon cantina; Francisco Tocino and Aguinaldo Misiones were with him; the three of them were blind drunk. They staggered from one side to the other; they were laughing their heads off and almost got run over by a car coming along like a bat out of hell. Francisco was laughing so much he peed his pants.
⎯ Damned Francisco ⎯ says Lolo Manón, who was really mad ⎯ I ain’t your nanny and I don’t have to put up with your crap; you can just stay there. And he left, leaving Francisco Tocino and Aguinaldo Misiones in fits of laughter. That’s the way they are, those three: one minute they’re fighting, tomorrow they’ll make up and then they’ll insult each other and then they’ll be friends as if nothing had happened. Aside from that, I can’t tell you any more about the guy.
27
After crying her eyes out for hours on end, feeling wretched, cursing the man for whom she’d sworn eternal love before God at the altar, Natalia gets up out of bed and goes to the kitchen for some ice.
The kids, Lolito and Hortensio, come in from outside from having played all afternoon at being Mafioso, terrorists, trouble makers and rapists and pillagers of ancient Rome. Natalia keeps her face turned away from her kids and her back to them; she doesn’t want to expose the father of her children; but Lolito is very sharp, he notices everything and doesn’t miss much.
⎯ What happened to your eye, Mamá? ⎯ he asks casually, as if having a black eye was part of normal everyday life.
⎯ Nothing, son ⎯ his mother responds, her voice quivering ⎯ I banged into the door: there was a sudden draught and it swung back and hit me on the nose. ⎯ She tries to laugh it off as if it were funny to have the door get in the way and leave your eye looking like Rocky’s in the first movie.
Lolito looks at his mother as if to say, do you think I’m still a baby? He’s only twelve, but he’s very clever and you can’t fool him.
⎯ That’s funny ⎯ says the child as he breaks open a can of Coke, ⎯ it wasn’t windy at all today at school or on the street, how come it was windy here?
⎯ Well, there you are – says Natalia still shaking; she is annoyed that her son’s questions have made her nervous and that she can no longer deceive him with useless, little lies.
Hortensio is no longer listening to the conversation; he is in his own world and goes to his room in a daze and locks the door; he couldn’t care less whether his parents kill each other or not. His only thoughts are of Tinita.
Lolito remains in the kitchen, observing his mother as he takes a few mouthfuls of his soft drink.
⎯ So why did he hit you this time?
⎯ The door?
Lolito doesn’t answer, he just keeps watching her. What sort of a stupid answer it that? Natalia lowers her gaze, ashamed at feeling the need to continue the pretence in the face of her son’s unrelenting questioning.
⎯ Why did he hit you? ⎯ says the child, as insistent as a judge interrogating a criminal.
⎯ That has nothing to do with you...
⎯ No, I suppose you ironed his undies instead of his shirts ⎯ Lolito is relentless in his gaze. Natalia doesn’t know which way to turn
⎯ Why did he hit you?⎯ the child insists: no doubt when he grows up he will be an interrogator for the Public Prosecator’s office.
⎯ Well... just because.
⎯ Answer me, Mamá.
⎯ Because I’m pregnant ⎯ her voice quivers like an old lady’s and her hands shake as if she had Parkinson’s disease.
⎯ What? ⎯ Lolito also most chokes on his Coca Cola and it makes him cough.
⎯ I’m pregnant; I told him and he hit me because he said we weren’t in a position to have another child.
⎯ So, it’s OK for him to get on top of you at night, is it?
⎯ Lolito! ⎯ Natalia’s eyes are about to pop out of her head ⎯ How dare you speak to me like that?
⎯ How dare he hit you then? Why do you let him, Mamá? Why?
⎯ I can’t do anything about it, that’s the way he is, it can’t be helped...
⎯ Híjole, Mamá, really. I don’t know who is worse, him for hitting you or you for letting him.
⎯ Don’t talk to me like that.
⎯ It’s just that I get really mad when you let that coward hit you.
⎯ Don’t talk about your father like that.
⎯ Lolito looks at his mother disdainfully, a look that for Natalia is far worse than the blows she received from her husband. She can no longer look at her son and looks away. For the first time, she feels that her patience has reached its limit, or at least almost the limit. One of these days I’m going to put an end to all of this, I swear by the memory of my dear mamá, thinks Natalia, knowing her son continues to observe her.
⎯ You both disgust me ⎯ the boy turns his back on his mother and withdraws to think about his own feelings. Natalia stands alone in the kitchen, with the pain in her eye from her husband’s fist and her heart in tatters from the words of her son. Just then, the door to the entrance of the house opens stealthily.
Lolo Manón comes into the apartment like a dog with his tail between his legs. In his right hand he carries a withered bunch of red carnations; in his left a vanilla custard cake and a guilty expression on his face.
⎯ Weren’t there any chocolate ones? ⎯ asks Natalia as she turns to leave the kitchen and lock herself in her room.
⎯ Don’t go, old girl, wait a second ⎯ says Lolo as he inspects the cake this way and t
hat to try and discover what was wrong with the custard square, which is always so good.
⎯ What do you want?- asks Natalia.
⎯ To say I’m sorry.
⎯ Oh, yes?
⎯ I don’t know what came over me, it must have been the booze, ‘cos I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.
⎯ No, I can imagine ⎯ Natalia takes the carnations off him and puts them in a vase with a little water ⎯ I suppose you didn’t mean to bring me a cake that I don’t like; of course, it must have been the booze.
⎯ I didn’t know you don’t like this kind ⎯ Lolo sits down on the little table in the kitchen, still holding the cake. ⎯ I just brought it so’s you can see that I’m still sorry.
Natalia grabs a plate from the pantry and a knife. She cuts a piece of the cake and gives it to Lolo.
⎯ Why do you always have to be sorry afterwards? Couldn’t you feel remorse before you let fly the first karate strike?
⎯ It won’t happen again, I swear. Pass me a teaspoon, will you?
⎯ Natalia gives him what he asks and goes and sits beside him. She raises her hand to touch her swollen eye gently.
⎯ Does it hurt much? ⎯ asks Lolo, his mouth full of cake.
⎯ What do you reckon?
⎯ I don’t know, I’ve never been given a black eye.
⎯ It’s not very nice, I can tell you.
⎯ So, have you forgiven me? – Lolo doesn’t stop eating when he asks the question.
⎯ I’m still thinking about it.
⎯ And, what if I bring you a chocolate one? ⎯ Lolo stops eating, he takes his wife’s hands in his and he kisses them. Natalia pulls them away and cleans them on her apron.
⎯ You’re getting cream all over me, Lolo.
He takes no notice and takes her hands again.
⎯ I love you, Natalia, I really do. It’s just that sometimes I’m a brute, but I promise you I’m remorseful ⎯ Lolo gets up from where he’s sitting. He moves closer to her and gives her a sticky kiss on her forehead.
⎯ I don’t know why you treat me so bad – says Natalia, wiping her forehead with a napkin.
⎯ Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t either. Do you forgive me?
Natalia bows her head. Lolo gives her a little kiss on the lips, he takes her by the hand and takes her to the bedroom, where they will finish ironing out their differences and dampening their anger and fury.
Up in his room, Lolito is aware of everything and feels his face getting red with rage. He know very well that this is not the first nor the last time that his father’s filthy hands will caress his mothers bruised body in an attempt to erase his transgressions. And then...history will repeat itself over and over and over....
28
You wanna know the truth? I have no idea why I married Florencia. One day she turned up and said to me:
⎯ I’m pregnant.
⎯ You are? But I thought you were too old for that.
⎯ Yeah, but I calculated wrong and now who’s gonna front up?
⎯ Go and tell the father, don’t come to me with your demands.
⎯ How do you know you’re not the father?
⎯ How do you know I am?
⎯ You went to bed with me and now you have to take responsibility.
⎯ When, then?
⎯ When what?
⎯ When do you want to get married?
⎯ Who said I wanted to marry you?
⎯ Well, if it’s not about me, then let’s go get the shotgun and find the guy who’s responsible and make him marry you.
⎯ I ain’t gonna marry any son of a bitch; there ain’t no one born yet who deserves me.
⎯ So what the hell do you want?
⎯ I want a monthly allowance; you can live with me so that’ll take care of the gossip, and you’ll recognise the child as yours.
⎯ Oh no you don’t, I ain’t gonna live under the same roof with someone I hardly know. If you want to live with me, have me keep you and recognise the kid as mine, we’ll get married and that’s that.
⎯ OK, but it has to be soon, ‘cos I’m already three months on.
⎯ You organise everything and let me know, I don’t intend to lift a finger.
In those days she was a little less feisty and sometimes she would do what I said; but as soon as we got married, she turned into a fuckin’ panther. On the wedding night, she never let me even touch her, and started to scream as if I was gonna rape her.
⎯ What’s wrong? ⎯ I asked her-, didn’t we say you were my woman in the eyes of the law and before God?
⎯ In the eyes of the law and before God too, but you are neither the law nor God, so don’t touch me.
⎯ Don’t get all coy with me. I’m not the first, nor the only one - you’re a flirt.
⎯ Flirt, your mamá. Don’t you dare insult me, you creep. I’m your wife and you treat me with respect.
⎯ Because you’re my wife, you’ll do your duty. Come on, take off your clothes ‘cos I’ve got the urge.
⎯ If it’s that urgent, go to the bathroom, that’s what toilets are for. Just let me sleep ‘cos I’m really tired. This damned pregnancy is driving me nuts.
⎯ Alright, but if you don’t let me tomorrow, I’ll have you by force.
⎯ I’ll cut it off.
The third time I tried to have her, she hit me with the frying pan and swore at me. Even though she was pregnant, the wretched woman was really strong and just wanted to get outta there, I tell you. She was like a crazy person and ran out on to the street shouting, round and round the block. “The kid will drop out”, I shouted out to her. “I’d prefer to drop it, but you’re not gonna touch me.” I thought that her attitude was because she was pregnant and that when the child was born, she’d change. My daughter, Ernestina, is almost thirty and Florencia still doesn’t let me touch her, see? Maybe that’s why I keep insisting with her and haven’t got a divorce; trying to win her over, determined to get her to bed. You’d have thought I would have got tired of it by now, but I’m as stubborn as forty mules put together. The years go by and I keep wanting to share my bed with her. It’s not that I’m in love with her, truth is I never fell in love, it was just that with the one time we made love before we were married, I was well and truly hooked on her big hips and big round breasts. One day I’m gonna make love to her again, you can be sure of that.
No, I’ve never had to satisfy my need with another woman, I sort that out myself, thinking of her and her lovely body. Sometimes I peek at her while she’s bathing, because she doesn’t even want me to see her body, even though I know every bit of it by heart. I made a little whole in the bathroom door and I’ve camouflaged it so she won’t notice. When I look through it, I watch how she takes her clothes off, first her blouse, then her bra and that’s when my heart stops as I imagine nestling my face between her breasts. Then she takes off her skirt or trousers, depends which. For a while she stands there naked, touching her hips, squeezing the blackheads; she rubs her bust, she shaves her moustache and strokes ...well, that’s enough. She uses suspenders, she’s never like modern pantyhose, and her suspenders just drive me crazy. She has them in lots of colours, red, blue, purple, black. I like the black ones best. When I get nostalgic, which is almost every day, I go and get one out of her dressing table drawer and I caress it like it was on Florencia’s beautiful strong legs. After a while, in the bathroom, she undoes her suspenders and takes off her stockings. That’s when I feel as if I am about to faint and my heart goes BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. But the damned woman never takes off her panties until she’s in the shower, because that’s where she washes them. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did it on purpose.
29
Lolo Manón and Florencia Ruiseñor de Tocino went to pick up Ernestina from hospital. Francisco Tocino couldn’t go because he was at the butcher’s shop in the mornings and there was no one else there to serve other than him.
Lolo gives Ernestina a kiss on her forehead and a pat on the bottom; Florencia hu
gs her and smothers her with kisses as if she had just come back from Tierra del Fuego. Ernestina disentangles herself and makes her way to Uncle Lolo’s car, an old VW beetle that goes back as far as Florence’s mother’s insults. Lolo looks even more unattractive with his short hair, which still hasn’t started to grow since Valerio shaved it off.
Whenever Florencia picks up her daughter from hospital, she talks like a chatterbox. Maybe she should also be admitted to hospital once in a while, thinks Tinita more and more convinced.
A Dead Man's Travail Page 7
