secret tip

The story that I am going to tell today has a potato as its main character. This is a strange role, since in most of the traditional rogue tales the most noteworthy characters are usually parrots, priests and drunkards. It must be taken into account, however, that the potato is a highly appreciated tuber despite the ending of this word, and one of the main foods of humanity along with corn, rice, wheat and McDonald’s hamburgers. . The potato, according to all indications, is native to Peru, a sister nation for which she feels great affection for two reasons. The first is how well the Peruvians, hospitable and kind, have treated me when I have been in their country, which shares a rich colonial past with ours. The second, the pisco sour, a wonderful drink with an indescribable flavor and even more indescribable effects. I trust that Peru will not now charge us royalties for eating potatoes, because of the tense relations, so unfortunate, that there are now between our governments, because that, added to the inflation and scarcity that we suffer in Mexico, would be a fatal blow same for the economy as for the food of the Mexican people. In order to dispel such a gloomy thought, I evoke at this point the deliciousness of a splendid Spanish-style potato omelette, a distinguished gala of gluttony that I enjoyed so many times during my delightful stays in the Motherland. But I warn you that I am lengthening the prolegomena, a word already long in itself. Here is the announced story… A handsome and muscular guy was walking on a fashionable beach. He wanted to catch a girl, and although he exercised all his gallantry arts he didn’t catch a cold. The individual was desperate, and more so because on the beach there was also a puny, ugly guy, and not only was he surrounded by a large court of beautiful women, but every day he took the best one with him, a different one each time. One morning the adonis could no longer contain himself and he approached the gangly little man. He told her: “I want you to allow me a few words with you.” He replied the other: “I am at your disposal, but from now on I tell you that my specialty is only women.” “That’s not what it’s about,” the handsome man clarified. I heard. I consider myself a handsome guy, with pleasant features and a well-proportioned body, and I can’t win over a single girl. And you who, excuse my frankness, are not exactly a bargain, you always get the most beautiful one on the beach. I beg you to tell me how you do it”. He replied ugly: “I liked you for your sincerity, so I will reveal my secret. But you must swear to me that you will tell no one.” The other swore and swore that he would keep absolute discretion. Lowering his voice, the feucho then instructed him: “Right now go to the market and buy yourself a potato.” “A potato?” –the gallant was baffled–. “Yes, a potato,” the adviser confirmed. A regular size potato. Rather big, the biggest I can find. And look closely: put it in the bathing suit. You will see the effect that causes. The man, although surprised by that unique recipe, appreciated the advice and assured that he would immediately put it into practice. The next day the feúcho bumped into him on the beach and asked him how it had gone with the potato. The other responded, grumpy and irritated: “She has done very badly for me. Not only have I not caught anything again, but I have been the laughing stock and mockery of all the people here on the beach, both national and foreign tourism, as well as the boatmen and vendors, and especially the ladies” . He said the little guy: “Yes, I already knew; I already found out. But look, friend: the potato is placed in front of the bathing suit, not behind”… THE END.

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