There are moments I have fear and even I start to shout, which was exactly the one thing I wanted to do at that moment and the last thing I could do, out of fear begin to shout. But eternal seconds passed without there being a sign or a word, until there sounded in my ear that typical canine snuffle requesting attention or affection, which made me very cautiously turn my head to see a mastiff puppy, friendly, with a split lip, as if he had a harelip, eager to play right then and there, probably the poor thing wasn’t allowed inside where the guests were dancing, and once he knew he had my attention he started frisking about, frisking up and down the hallway, barking playfully, which immediately raised the alarm for the trio conspiring in the room, which gave me no choice but to quickly return to the hallway and escape through the shadows, not caring if I fell into the clutches of the shaved Argentinean, for I was much more afraid of being trapped by General Octavio Pérez Mena, who would proceed to interrogate me mercilessly about why I was spying on them, using his most expeditious method of beating me to soften me up, then taking me to his macabre abattoir, but thank God the mastiff caught the scent of his owner, because his loud playful barks continued down the hallway as I moved toward the bathroom window I had climbed through, which was now closed, which meant I had to continue straight until I got to the living room full of guests, which I stumbled my way through to prevent the aforementioned general from running up behind me without my noticing, right on my heels. I was trying to get to the front door when I unexpectedly bumped into the shaved one and Fátima—damn! — that was all I needed, stuck between a rock and a hard place, the merciless slayer at my heels and the cuckold and his girlfriend in front of me. “Where did you go?” she asked, with the innocence of a young lady at her first holy communion, while I awaited a trouncing by the shaved one. “You already met Charlie,” she continued as I tried to make my way out. “What the hell is going on with you? Man, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, taking me by the arm as I turned around so as not to see the face of the shaved one who was hugging her. “Too bad Jay Cee couldn’t make it. I would have loved for you to meet him,” I heard her say, and then she explained that Charlie was one of Jay Cee’s best friends, a compatriot and colleague, she specified, without her explanation managing to detain me from fleeing into the street.