The Chamber of the Future
-Hello, handsome, what can I do for you.
-You don't have to lie to me, we've met since I was a toddler. Dalila, I'm confused. I came here because I want a sexual identity. What you got?
Dalila said a wet 'Well' and took out from a drawer a roulette with lots of triangles. She spinned it. 68. Took out a book which had no dust at all and passed its pages making them sound like the flight of a retarded seagull.
-Sixty eight: male but with some homosexual behaviours and a vagina on the right shoulder.
-Oh crap! I just wanted to be a regular male, but that's ok. Although it doesn't make sense. How am I supposed to have a vagina on my shoulder?
-Just chill, it's a sticker. Oh, and when they ask you, you're a shouldhermaphrodite.
-And if a boy wants to hook up with my shoulder?
-Just tell him you have feelings and walk away.
And that's how Dalila ended up crying in a corner knowing the love of her life wasn't even one of the thirty first genres, which were the comprehensible ones for her.
-Who was Velázquez-says a naive visitor to the ear of other.
-No way to know, just admire.
And the crowd rippled in a 'Ooooooh', and she bowed to her people.
-Well I think you could...
And the crowd stoned him for opposing to the artist, case closed, then the richest man in town bought 'Wound' and his whole family felt fulfilled that night when he hung it on the fireplace. Mary was happy, rolled up over herself in her bed. She was a recognised artist. Thank God for her invaluable talent! Hip, hip...! Let that to the people.