It was a week ago today when I invited the chief of police to the bar. It was a tiny place. The heat was intense. The beer was served boiling.
All the town had been warned of my arrival. The policeman had me in his nice little cage - I had to sing.
‘I lived for seventeen years in Cuba. It’s a great country. Its poorest soul owns a car, a radio and a Tv set, did you know that? The government says that at all times a man should have transport and access to information.’
‘Must be a great country,’ I agreed. ‘I read that Fidel has survived 600 attempts.’
‘He must have a great witch!’ He said. ‘I was there when his wife tried to kill him. Everywhere in the country we had flags at half-mast. Such a tragedy. Women, women are the cause for all the world’s problems. Women and money.’
‘Yeah? Maybe,’ and I took another swig. ‘But I wouldn’t want to live in a world without women.’
‘Women and money!’ My friend assured me. As if to prove a point, he called his wife saying he’d be late, told his mistress to meet him at the bar, flirted with the bartender, and took from me what little money I had left in my wallet.
But now, at least, I know what to look out for.
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