The twilight spreads its cloak over the city of Weimar while Lord Byron follows a woman down its streets. He has been following her for a long time from the outskirts, where she has caught his attention because of her halo of mystery. She is a tall, thin woman in a cloak with a hood that does not allow him to see her face. It’s precisely this circumstance (the fact that the woman hides her face) what excites his curiosity. However, the slender lady possesses such graceful legs that it’s hard for Byron to follow in her footsteps.

After a prolonged zigzag through the alleys of the medieval core, the mysterious lady crosses the threshold of a door. Without hesitation, Byron goes after her. Thus, he arrives at a room whose only furniture consisted of a wardrobe with strange carved symbols that reminded Byron of the Egyptian hieroglyphs and also the writing of his grandmother, a writing he has never been able to decipher (circumstance that, at the time of reading her will, cost him the loss of a substantial inheritance). With the uneasiness of someone who fears to meet his late grandmother, who already caused him fear in her lifetime, Byron opens the wardrobe which turns out to be the secret entrance to a basement composed of a series of bare vaulted rooms populated with rats and other rodents including porcupines, capyvaras and gambian pouched rats. 

Having lost sight of the mysterious woman, Byron begin to call her: “Milady! Milady!”. When the echo has not yet stopped, he finally finds her. She is in the middle of the basement’s last room with the hood still covering her face. Gallantly, Byron tells her not to be afraid and begs her to let him see her face. Then, the mysterious woman drops the cloak with the hood and, before the resulting vision, Lord Byron’s hair stands on end and he suffers a crisis of anxiety that causes him to shake off as if dancing the conga. 

In front of him, a hermaphroditic being winks and smiles at him, opening a mouth that, when smiling, becomes disproportionate, occupying almost the entire face, in which a fine moustache with the tips pointing upwards resembles that of Salvador Dalí. Byron still does not know (but he is about to find out) that he is in the presence of an extra-terrestrial hermaphrodite. And not of just any extra-terrestrial hermaphrodite but of the very king/queen of the extra-terrestrial hermaphrodites. Immediately, other similar beings begin to come and place themselves in a semicircle around their sovereign, who telepathically communicates with Byron (who continues to dance the conga, a dance that paradoxically he ignores). 

Among plenty of cloying expressions of affection, the king/queen of the extraterrestrial hermaphrodites reveals to him that, among all the inhabitants of the Universe, he has been chosen to be his/her consort. Thus, Byron learns that his verses have reached fame in the entire Universe and that his/her extraterrestrial and hermaphrodite majesty is his first and most praiseworthy fan. He also learns that he/she has come personally to Earth in a spaceship to take him to his/her planet, where they both will get married. And, as a final anecdote, he/she tells him that his/her minions confused him days ago with another poet who was declaiming on a path and who was even introduced in their spaceship. 

Before the memory of such anecdote, the minions open their huge mouths to laugh. And although their laughter is silent, Byron’s head is filled with loud cackles.

This is a non-profit blog whose purpose is to raise funds for children in need. So if you want to make a donation in exchange for this story, click on this link to UNICEF. I really appreciate it!

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