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Boo! Crescent moon in Calpe
Firdowsi and I planted roses in the castles of Spain

By Kristopher Kolumbus
November 2, 2002
The Iranian

I put on my pink slippers from Fuengirola, Andalucia, on the Costa Del Sol metamorphosing into Neptune in the swimming pool with my psychic struggles. The pool is a metaphor - refreshing and shallow and good excuse to invite Firdowsi to Calpe to focus exclusively on his hot homo action with a stranger.

His emotional honesty after writing the Shahnameh had been badly damaged in Tus when the king decided to bang him breathlessly from behind, the curse of the Persians, as one of the two best new chefs in Tus where he posed on the cover of Gourmet in his whites, in the pursuit of oblivion.

With wide-eyed militant innocence after the Bomb in Bali, save the ice in the glass because a Martini on the rocks stays cold longer. Stir just 'till the Digital Revolution passes. Once around. Squeeze a lemon peel across the haze and run the peel skin-side down around the rim of the glass beffore you drop it in a verse by Firdowsi.

The purple light of the October night in Spain during the Fiesta of Moslems and Christians blew across the Rock of Calpe with white flags burned with red crosses. Dressed as a women Ferdowsi was refused entrance. He kicked the glass door in and received a six-month sentence for misdemeanor criminal mischief. Released on condition that he get mental counseling he came to Calpe for shock treatment. In October playing the part of a Moslem holding a green flag with a white moon, he threw q rock through the window of the Flanders Cafe and broke a mirror.

He was placed under observation on the ancient Roman site on the beach which had been dumped by dogs in revenge for the burning of Takhte Jamshid by Alexander the Great. Alex too took a dump in Shiraz where his license to practice medicine was suspended. He didn't give a shit what we think about him or the Shahnameh.

I should be pissed. Funny thing is I feel grateful, very grateful. Firdowsi and I planted roses in the castles of Spain and became secret lovers turning our passions into unbridled poetry on the rocks of Costa Blanca as the Moslems escaped into the sea of Spain with the Anaheim Angeles. The monkey made its appearance on the Jumbotron and it was all over in the last of the old Extra Virgin olive orchards with a sleepy crescent moon in Calpe, tatooed with Cleopatras coitus.

Abol Ghassem shouted OLE ! when it was served very pink in a basket and sprinkled with Spanish stars.

Buon Appetito !

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