You Are an Artist

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Several days later, he returned to the apartment full of bruises and cuts all over his body after the first practice of American football. He turned on the light and shouted at the top of his lungs, notwithstanding it was well past midnight. “Heartless son of a bitch! Are you sleeping? Couldn’t you wait for your friend’s return from his first practice?”

The glaring light jolted me awake, and I shouted annoyingly, “Son of a bitch! Do you know what time it is now?”

“Ha-ha-ha…. Sorry, my friend, I know it’s too late, but I need to talk and share my first experience with you.”

I calmed down a bit and said, “Don’t be sorry. I know you, my friend. And sorry for falling asleep. I was too exhausted with all the writing I managed to get done. I wrote so many pages today and got a gratified headache. Anyway, how was it going on? Did you enjoy playing it?”

He looked outside for a while and revealed his shame by howling, “Hell no! What a humiliation! I didn’t understand why I chose this particular sport. Oh my God, Shogo, you can’t believe it. They’re too strong and huge! They knocked me down countless times as if I were a blade of grass. I didn’t expect to be hurled to the sky so easily. They hurt my pride of manhood, you know, anyway. Look at my body, my friend. I got full of bruises and cuts all over my body. Look at my right arm. Christ, it’s bleeding!”

Of course, he has never started jogging after work, as he proudly announced. Every time I come back to the apartment from my night perambulation, the same scene is repeated. He always watches his favorite TV show, Playboy Mansion, by touching himself. I should tell you here that he has a disgusting habit of touching himself as if he could not do anything without checking on his stallion every two minutes. And I would say, “What happened, man? Did you jog today?”

He would denigrate insolently, “Of course, I didn’t, man. I’m so tired – you should’ve understood the reality better! I have to work hard to pay rent, you know. Who will pay the rent if I don’t work and just jog around La Condesa every day like Rocky Balboa? Who will be taking care of you? I know you think that everyone ought to support you and nourish you along until you are recognized as a writer. You never think that you might take a job meanwhile. Oh no, it isn’t your way. You have important messages to contribute to the world, so you’re not supposed to waste your precious time. You are an artist. Well, downrightly you are, for all I know. You’re living in a totally different world, Shogo. But the rest of us must work, man! Do you really think that jogging around La Condensa can earn daily bread? Think harder about what you’re insinuating, son of a bitch! Think twice before opening your stupid mouth. Shame on you!”

“Ha-ha-ha, idiot. I just said it because you announced you would be jogging every day after work, not me, remember? Anyway, please stop touching yourself. It makes me nauseated, man!”

“What is wrong with me checking Gerardo Jr. every five seconds? Is that against the law? I don’t think so, man, ha-ha-ha…. By the way, Shogo, look at the TV. Oh my God, she is so beautiful. Her name is Sara Underwood. She is my dream girl. What do you think about her?”

“I guess she is okay and has a pretty face,” I would reply indifferently.

“What? Are you crazy? Look at her closely, man. She is an angel. I tell you, my friend. She is the most exquisite vagina whom my eyes have ever laid on. She has perfect tits and a knockout ass. To cap it all, she has a seraphic face. Golly, her ass, man, I simply can’t keep my eyes off her ass, you know. Yeah! A wonderful piece of ass – and I can’t look at her without a massive erection, ha-ha-ha….”

Yes, Gerardo is very fine. He is everlastingly obsessed with women, and he has not changed a wee bit since the first time I met him ten years ago.

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