I blow it with Zula

  Returning now to my passionate relations with Zua, so brutally interrupted by the priest.

  -Don’t come all the way to the capital with me, she insisted.

  -I have to. Somebody has to carry your bags love.

  -But if you stay, I’ll have someone to pick me up from the station the day after tomorrow.

  I relented.

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  -And who will carry your bag?

  -Me, I am sufficiently strong, she said proudly, almost as strong as your uncle’s mare.

  I spent the next two days, exactly fifty six hours, in a heightened state of activity, discretion and spending.

  Figuring the evening might start with vodka, and wanting to be able to hold my own, I drank a glass of warm melted lard before going to pick her up.

  An idiot swore to me a butcher famous for holding his liquor always preceded his benders by drinking three-quarters of a glass of warm melted lard.

  I regretted the move immediately.

  It didn’t take long for Zula to notice after I picked her up at the station, but I tried to pull it off.

  -Is something wrong?

  -I was just so anxious about whether you were coming love.

  I thought getting to the vodka right away might help.

  It didn’t.

  I threw up over the balcony and the evening was ruined.