"You know--the smart bullfighter doesn´t attack--he waits. Once the charge is on, the skill is in knowing how to move", » Y G H M®: the stories, yo
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“You know–the smart bullfighter doesn´t attack–he waits. Once the charge is on, the skill is in knowing how to move”,

“You know–the smart bullfighter doesn´t attack–he waits. Once the charge is on, the skill is in knowing how to move”,

I tell the barista as I set down the coffee.

“Yeah”, he says as rolls his eyes, “that´s great. Again, I told you that I don´t speak English.”

He pauses; he puts his hands down.


I pause; oh… that´s why he didn´t laugh at my joke. It was a funny joke. I mean not my funniest–but I thought it was funny…. you know… at least, a little cute.

The barista waves his hands in the air, again. I pull my digitaltelephone out of my pocket; I slide the setting to off and the translator stops broadcasting my thoughts.

“So”, I say as I put the digitaltelephone back into my pocket, “the technique of a bullfighter–matador in Spanish–is something that can be taught–ultimately, however it´s about flow.  It´s not different then salsa, or any dance, it´s a dance of death with another living being–it´s a moment of 2 souls interlocked in an exchange of passion.  It´s beautiful.”

“That sounds nice, I guess”, the barista responds as he types on the cash register, “so… you must have gone to a ton of bull fights?”

I pause; have I?

“No”, I reply as I put my hand in my pocket and pull out my digitaltelephone, “I´ve never been–I think it´s disgusting.”

“Why?”, the barista replies as the receipt prints, “if you think it´s so beautiful–why don´t you go?”

“Oh”, I reply as I pick up my coffee, “the secret to life”

I pause; I hope he laughs this time.

“Is to avoid the bull.”

He chuckles. I pause; wellit´s a start.

“So”, I say as I turn my head to HR, “where do you want to go today?”

“Crazy”, she replies as she picks up her biscotti, “no wait…. we´re clearly already there.”

“Park”, I reply as I zip up my black hoodie, “it is.”

She pauses.

“Aren´t you worried about the girlteams?”

I pause; you know… she does have a good point.

“No”, I reply as I put my left hand in pocket, “I got you–girl wingman.”

“Aww”, she replies as she adjusts her bookbag, “let´s go.”

“So how was your day”, my wife asks as I sit down at the kitchen table and reach over for the papitas.

“You know”, I reply as I recline in the chair, “it was all fun and games until a girlteam came out of nowhere and the girlhero punched me in the balls.”

“Oh my”, she replies as she chuckles.

I pause; I know, right?! She reaches into her pocket and takes out her digitaltelephone; hits propina 15% and Susie gets the tip, nearly, instantly. Her, my wife´s, phone beeps 0.29687 nanoseconds later; a new message has come in; it´s from Susuie–yeah, I used brass knuckles–it was glorious! My wife chuckles–Susie´s kinda crazy.

I pause; would I rather have 12 eggs or a dozen? You know–this should be an easy question–but it´s actually pretty tough and reveals a lot about a person.

“Are you listening to me”, my wife says as she sits down at the kitchen table, “or am I talking to air, again?”

I pause; I think I´m supposed to nod my head or say something like Yeah… or Of Course! or maybe Oh WOW!… go on… tell me more.

“Go on”, I say as I nod my head, “tell me more.”

“And”, my wife says as she reaches over the digitalpapitas, “then I found out that Mixow got a new car and now I want a new car— but the pyschiatrist said that is because I am living a false life and disabling the pain through avoidance.

I pause; I think she said something important?

“Hey”, I say as I lean forward and pick up my taza, “You´re back at the pyschiatrist?”

She pauses; I knew he was going to ask.

“Yeah”, she replies as she leans back in her chair and turns her head to look out the window.

She turns her head back to me.

“I didn´t know what else to do.”

I pause; that´s actually pretty intelligent.


I take a sip of coffee; I set the taza down; I lean back in the chair; I sigh; I turn my head to look out the window; moments later, I´m asleep; later that afternoon, I wake up; I lean forward; I pick up the taza and take a sip; it´s cold. I stand up from the chair and take a step towards the microwave–easy fix.

“Dad!”, HR yells from the hallway, “what are you still doing here. You are supposed to be at mom´s graduation today?”

I pause; is that today? I look down at my watch; 5 minutes; 4 minutes later, I arrive at the auditorium and take a seat.

The announces starts speaking, “today´s graduating class includes…

Moments later, I´m asleep, again.

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