The Matador, 1970

Abstract

His glands are tattooed with coconut leaves, but don't tell him that. He dips his garlic braids in wax each morning. He wants to preserve or burn them, votive talismans to ward off superstition. He can tell six different lies at once without ever contradicting himself. His lies all contradict each other; he uses them to make up true stories about his life as a boy in Malaga. There, on the southern coast of Spain, among volcanoes, he grew up idolizing the great bullfighters Hernandez, Vallejo, de la Cruz. He would surpass their splendor. Don't look at his sombrero. He uses it to mesmerize victims. His victims, before he kills them, are mesmerized by looking at his sombrero. He has eyes on every side of his head. Don't look into them.