FOR Unto me is born this day in the hinterlands between the thigh and the left butt cheek, a Pressure Sore, which shall be called Alma de Cuba of the Ischium, after the famed restaurant in Liverpool, "Winner of Best Bar, Best Restaurant and UK's Best Venue in 2008," situated in a converted Catholic church. When you think "cuban cuisine," think Liverpool!
Think of all the firsts Alma de Cuba of the Ischium and I will have! I need to invest in one of those little Pressure Sore Memory Albums so that I can be sure and jot down the particulars of all the wonderful times to come --
Alma's first saline rinse.
Alma's first colloidal dressing.
Alma's First Holy Communion!
As God ordains it, there will always be less of me and more of Alma de Cuba of the Ischium. That's the Pressure Sore Condition, the inevitable ingestion of The Host.
Holy Inevitable Ingestion, Batman!
I'll try to keep her public apprised of Alma's growth and evolution, but I don't want to expose her overly much to the contagions of The World.
I thought this day would never come.