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Laura Elisa Vizcaíno
Translated from Spanish by Jenny Marie Forsythe

Turf and surf

The mermaid escaped from her house on her fifteenth birthday. It was the first time she left the ocean. That night she stumbled upon a party in a beach hotel: music and meat smells. The girl’s eyes filled with light and by the grace of Poseidon she moved toward the chairs by the dance floor.
—Excuse me, would you like to dance?
—Oh but I’m not wearing shoes, is that okay? — the mermaid said and blushed.
The young man looked disgusted and walked away. Then the beautiful mermaid fled from the hotel. She returned to her ocean with a rage born from offense, sliced open the water, plummeted deeper and deeper, spun up toward the horizon, jumped over the waves, sailed through her hair, and ever since then she’s been dancing.

Image. Sirenas, 2016. Christhian Días.

Meat or fish?

A great man discovered late in life that he had never once made the right choice. With his head hung low and a little suitcase in his hand he set out toward the beach. The heat and other salty smells perked him up a little. He walked into a restaurant right as his stomach started rumbling.
—Meat or fish? —the waiter asked him.
A simple, ordinary question, but one more choice to make after all, like his mariages and his affairs, the instruments he stopped playing, the job he lost, his taste for living and his taste for dying. He didn’t say a word. He got up from his chair and moved toward the waves. He wanted to forget himself, so he sank into the sea. And there he was, ending it all, when a beautiful mermaid opened his eyes, held him in her meaty arms, and filled him with fish.

Something for something

There was a woman who suffered from bad moods. The doctors who examined her discoverd she had a long fish tail that kept her from opening her legs. They had to remove it so they could enjoy the patient until they left her voiceless.

El pulpo
(octopus vulgaris)

Mermaids are beautiful creatures with fabulous hair, generous breasts, luscious hips, restless bellies and incredible fish tails that change into goosebumps, or anyway that’s how my trembling tentacles remember them.