Chapter V

In which we tell of Joan Orpí’s adolescence and his discovery of a “vagina dentata”

Ah, yes, that’s what I was going to say. Take a good hard look at Joan Orpí, and then look again: at thirteen years of age, he is a daydreamer with raging hormones, neither here nor there. More tall than short, more thin than fat, and with cheeks more red than pale. His face is banana-shaped and his big eyes—the color of an absconding mutt—don’t miss a beat, despite being hooded by bushy, undomesticatable eyebrows. Honestly, it’s best not to even mention his moustache: it just began to sprout one day and didn’t stop until someone took pity on him and taught him the art of shaving. Regarding his aquiline nose, on the other hand, everyone had some sort of opinion. He is slim of body but brisk in his movements, sending his messy hair flopping over his forehead. In sum, young Orpí most resembles a bundle of hairy bones with legs.

We now find our young hero in tender adolescence, an age in which hormones accelerate, an age in which everything seems bright and magical, an age in which boys start to feel something growing in them. And I’m not talking about their brains. Thus our hero was faced with an important enigma: what was the purpose of that hanging bit taking up space between his legs? For some strange reason, it seemed to have a life of its own and would grow big and shrink as it saw fit, and sometimes, upon first waking, he would find it throbbing beneath sheets all mucked up with a white, gummy substance. The whole business was quite disconcerting to young Orpí.

One day, as he was walking through the orchards on the outskirts of Piera, he saw a very lovely young girl by the name of Gisela Coll de Cabra, a neighbor from town, washing her teenage thighs on the riverbank. Dressed though she was like an ordinary peasant girl, in the eyes of our hero she seemed a true damsel. As it was hot, the young woman was splashing water into her low neckline onto breasts white as cheese, and our hero noted that bit between his legs rapidly inflating. As he watched her, mouth agape, for a good long while, he stuffed his hands into his pants and pulled on his pud in a fit of instinctive onanism. Gisela Coll de Cabra, seeing him shaking behind a bush, waved him over with a wag of her finger. Our young hero, nervously buttoning his pants, obeyed.

“Whatsoever were thou up to backe there, ye swine?” she said, realizing the state of affairs. “I see yer full-mast, eh? Yer knick-knack, yer gimcrack, yer crimson chitterling …”

“I … I … didd-nnt knowe … I didnt knowe that … that sooo … so very many … names existed … fore … fore … that ‘bit’ …”

“What’s wrong wid yer mouth? Are ye dumb or wut? Ye shud see all da t’ings one canst do wid dat dere ‘bit’!” she asserted, laughing joyfully.

“Are thee no vergen, Gisela?” Orpí asked naively.

“Ha, ha, ha … ! Only virgin I knowe is atop Montserrat. Point a fact, the right whole virtue business war invented by da churche to controlle girls. I caint even recall when mine hymen braked, all I knowe is the one who did it war indowed withe a giant prick, and I shriek’d like a sow withe pain & pleasure! Ere since I nair misst a chance ta fadoodle. Dost thou wish to learne to fucke?”

“Verily …” panted our hero, his knick-knack still pointing at the heavens beneath his pantaloons.

“Firstmost, ya gotta warm up what’s betwixt these hamhocks,” she ordered, didactically pointing to her crotch.

That said, wanton Gisela took his hand and stuck it under her skirts. Young Orpí felt something akin to a hidden creature, although he couldn’t say whether it was a rough rat or a soft ferret. In any case, he was convinced it was alive because it was quite damp. When he looked under those skirts all he saw was this:

Seeing those teeth on the girl’s erogenous zone was such a deep disappointment to the young Orpí that his crimson chitterling immediately and irremediably deflated. And not only that, but he also came to the conclusion that what Gisela had between her legs was nothing less than a kraken. And thus, he rapidly reached yet another conclusion: Gisela was in grave danger as long as that monster was stuck between her legs like a leech. So our hero grabbed a boxwood stick, lifted up all those skirts and petticoats and then started beating the girl’s crotch, thinking that he would save her from being devoured by the fearsome beast.

“What be ya doin’, ya son of a camelopard! Ya stunted speck of shit!” bellowed Gisela Coll de Cabra, leaping out of the brambles to avoid the stick. “Hallp … hallp me this ydiot is set ta kille me!”

Hearing her shouts, a group of young men from a nearby town came to her aid, singing a song the whole while:

Come round, ye lads, and gather

Damsell in distress there bee!

Tyme to saveth her honour

Yea, her honor and her glory

For we art the hardy foes

of abstemia & anemia

We art the favored sons

we make a right goode team, yeah!

Come round, ye lads, and gander

Fore this here coprophagist

is beggin’ fer a lather

Let’s check him off our list!

Young Orpí thought those young men were coming to help him kill the skirt monster, and he devoutly joined their song. But soon he realized they were not coming to his aid, nor did they want him in their choir. The young men pounced upon him and gave him such a drubbing it is quite easy to picture what state he was in afterward. However not as easy to imagine was the state Gisela Coll de Cabra would be in. After she thanked the vigilantes, that selfsame swarm of fiery lads raped her, one after the other, until they were sated. After the brutal attack, Gisela joined a nunnery, where she lost her mind, convinced she was fornicating with the Devil. So she took her leave of the convent, returned to Piera, and ended up selling vegetables at the market in the square. But that’s a story for another day.