Christina Hendricks in Madrid (1 of 2) That night, at Casa Lucio,

>>82524005
smother me mommy

>>82524005

We were having dinner, the usual compadres: Antonio Lucas, Manuel Jabois, Edu Galán and David Gistau. Actually Gistau was not there that night, but it does not matter. For the purposes of the narration, it was. I invent it and nothing happens. I also sat at the table - this I do not invent it - my carnal Mexican novelist Elmer Mendoza. We were accompanied by his wife, Leonor; But as she does not suit the story, I will say that night was not. We were six uncles, therefore, eating grilled coconut and tender little sirloin, with red Luis Cañas reserve. Speaking of the usual: books, journalism, politics, women, Mongolian musical, Luki's last poem, Jabo's sexual potency, Gistau's four children - who was not - who spend the whole fucking day, Papi, papi, asking to eat. Anyway. Things like that. Then my phone rings and a friend tells me. "Cristina Hendricks is going to have dinner with Lucio." I say it to the rock, and while I do, it approaches Teo, the maître. "Cristina Hendricks has just sat down at Severo Ochoa's table," he whispers. We look at all, as one man and one woman. And we see it.

In mortal flesh he loses much.

>>82524037

Usually occurs. But she's still beautiful and well endowed. She is accompanied by a stuffed turkey that Teo defines as the legitimate husband. We study the turkey with a critical eye. "He does not have half a host," says Edu Galán, evenly. We all agreed. "You should tell her something," suggests Gistau, who is still not there. "That gringa can not escape alive," says Elmer. Everyone agrees and looks at me, both because I am the eldest - we still respect those things between us - as because tonight it is my turn to pay the bill. So, assuming my responsibility, I return to Jabois. "You're the handsome man and the fella at this table," I say, authoritative. "Our contest stallion," Edu points out, and then we get involved in a brief biographical-sexual review of Jabo, including politics and journalists, until he returns the thread. "It's your turn to take a picture with her, comrade. You're already late. "

Jabois looks at us hesitantly, and we all nod. "Go back with your shield or on it," suggests Lucas, epic. Almost Homeric. With his usual goodness, Jabo nods, takes a deep breath, stands up, goes with his best smile to the Hendricks table, asks him to take a picture, and she passes him. For her part, the husband pats and says that of photos, nothing. He returns humiliated Jabois. "They have sent me to take my ass," he says in his tender Galician accent. And he sits down. We shake, indignant. "The husband does not have half a host," insists Edu Galan. "What an asshole," says Luki. "We should break the nose," I say. "In Sinaloa we would give him lead," Elmer concludes. We order the drinks, and Edu orders an Angelic Fra. "I drink from a pub," he said. Edu calls me class and son of a bitch.

>>82524066

We left soon. At the door, the Hendricks takes pictures with the waiters, with the parking lot keeper, with whom he sells the lottery, with all those who pass by. Jabois is depressed an egg. We clustered, consoling him. "The husband does not have half a host," insists Edu. We stared at the redhead and the legitimate one wanting to give him the octopus. Making calculations between the desire we have and the headlines of the following day: "Reverte and five other unscrupulous inflate the husband of the Hendricks in Casa Lucio." I mean, no. At the end we decided to go with our ears porridge, while Edu, who goes to the feet of Fra Angelico, insists: "The husband had no half host." We nodded, resigned as we drove away in the night. Even nod Gistau, who was not.

source
>https://translate.google.com/translate?sl=es&tl=en&js=y&prev=_t&hl=es&ie=UTF-8&u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.xlsemanal.com%2Ffirmas%2F20170507%2Fperez-reverte-cristina-hendricks-y-nosotros.html&edit-text=&act=url

tl;dr Christina Hendricks's husband is a faggot and was almost beaten by 5 spanish novelist writers who just wanted a photo with the couple.

>>82524005
why doesn't she play a stripper who's a single mommy and does sexy stripper moves to pay for her child's healthcare because drumpf took it away? easy oscar

>>82524222
She is not Demi Moore

>>82524190
5 spaniards couldn't overwhelm one limp wristed american.

>>82524644

They were worried about newspapers headlines of 5 writers beating up a hollywood actor.

But it's obviously they were just drunk and rambling about.

>tfw you don't have half a host
;-;

Fuck off Pérez-Reverte

Jesus christ that translation was terrible.

>>82524250
Good.

Pero mira que eres tonto

>>82524005
>>82524037
>>82524066
>>82524104

Jesus, this is some horrible writing. I'm not even talking about the translation, but the embarrassing attempt at wit.

Right after I got to college, I made friends with a young Christina Hendricks.She had a garden apartment and she gave me a cocoon for my dorm room. She collected things like that... caterpillars, insects, and stuff... It was attached to a twig, and she told me that one morning I'd wake up to a beautiful butterfly flying around my room when it hatched. She said that when they first come out, they're soaking wet and there's even a tiny little speck of blood in there -- isn't THAT fascinating -- but within an hour they dry off and begin to fly. Well, I told her I had a cat. I had a cat then. But she just said, "Put it somewhere where the cat can't get it!" which is impossible, but what can you do? So, I put it up on a ledge where the cat never went, and the next morning it was still there, at least so it seemed safe to leave it. Anyway, about a week later, very, very early this one morning, Christina calls me and says, "April, do you have a butterfly this morning?" So I put down the phone and managed to get up and look, and sure enough I saw a little wet spot, and a tiny speck of blood, and... no butterfly. And I thought, "Oh, dear God in heaven, the cat got it." I picked up the phone to tell Chris, and just then, suddenly, I spotted it underneath the dressing table. It was moving one wing. The cat had gotten it, but it was still alive. So I told Chris, and she got so upset and she said, "Oh, God, April, don't you see that that's a life? A living thing?" So I got dressed and took it to the park, and I put it on a rose. It was summer then, and it looked like it was going to be alright; I thought so, anyway. But that woman... I felt so damaged by her -- awful -- that was just cruel. So I got home and called her back and said, "Listen, I'm a living thing too, you shithead!" I never saw her again.

>>82525206
>So I got home and called her back and said, "Listen, I'm a living thing too, you shithead!" I never saw her again.
really made me think

>>82524104
>The husband had no half host
What did he mean by this?
No. Seriously.

>>82525613
>«El marido no tiene media hostia»
I speak Spanish and I have no idea

>>82524222
I mean, that's basically Lost River.

>>82524037
>>82524066
>>82524104
anyone who reads all this shit is a faggot

File: 4Owwf1J.jpg (558KB, 1920x1080px) Image search: [Google]

558KB, 1920x1080px

>>82524778
>you will never have a mighty host facing off against not even half a host in order to win hendricks as a trophy