– I can’t sleep. Too much to think about. Jim’s a handsome fellow and I figure he’d rather spend his day fucking our creamy whores, smoke our cigars and write slimy novels instead of teach me (I read this somewhere that all therapists are blocked novelists). But I’m Castro’s last and deadliest weapon, el asesino cubano. To bring down imperialism, I must understand American from the inside. He gave me Hemingway to read, un escritor bianco. But he wrote: “All modern American literature comes from one book by Mark Twain called Huckleberry Finn.” When I inquired why I was not taught Huckleberry Finn instead of the cheesy For Whom The Bell Tolls, Jim said that Mark Twain’s sense of irony was not contemporary enough. I sensed ambiguity, which I hate.
I look out the window of my hut at las putas, and I stroke my cock, and there’s no ambiguity there. Ambiguity is the death of the revolution. Long live El Máximo Líder, chupame ahora.
(Excerpt from ‘Faces’ – all of the Earth’s 24 time zones on Christmas Eve
*snicker* Chupame ahora
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by David Hadley, oleuanna. oleuanna said: RT @flawnt: thinks 04:46 habana cuba is too coarse for his readers' sensitive organs. http://bit.ly/95lhU1 <<fucking our creamy whores, YES [...]
wow!…this story conjures up vivd scenes in my mind of husky dusky maidens, with their skirts hitched high, rolling thick, fragrant cohibas on their inner thighs…hecho a mano…whilst listening to Flawnt, their lector, telling his own infamous stories and the occasional smoking poem, ‘The Betrothed’ by some other bloke called Kipling
( who also makes exceedingly good cakes! )
I love this earthy tale…as spicy as Salsa…it tingles the taste buds…
thanks all – heather: i’ve always had a thing for scenes like these, too…and especially for ambiguity. must check kipling. must have salsa again. very inspired/inspiring comment!