The house of the Jaguar

Yesterday, with great reluctance, I went to a party at the House of the Jaguar, almost coerced by having failed to attend so many times. When I arrived, I realized that my presence was being ignored, and I couldn't help but recall the famous words of the Horse: "There's no lonelier place than a party."

Unfortunately, I couldn't leave, as to avoid the expensive nighttime taxi, I had to wait until the end and sleep on Mrs. Owl's sofa. While everyone was drinking, dancing, and having fun, I decided to chat with the Goat, an interesting albeit somewhat crazy German. I mentioned that I was reading "Faust," a masterpiece from her homeland.

"What a coincidence!" she exclaimed. "The Devil is here! Let me introduce you to him," and before I could refuse, Mephistopheles appeared behind me. "How do I get rid of him?" I thought, but soon I succumbed to the temptation of conversation. After a few minutes, I felt bad for having rejected him; the truth is, he's quite charming. I even shared that joke about the Vixen with him:

"—If hell exists, it must be lined with children.
—If it exists? I have no doubt that there is nothing else but hell!"

Mephistopheles shared some other witty, albeit somewhat cruel, jokes, but in the end, I confessed. "It's very amusing, sir, but unfortunately, my soul no longer belongs to me." This angered him, and he shook my hand. I woke up suddenly in my bed without even knowing who I was; it took me the whole day to remember my name and the events I just described.

I'm starting to think it was all a dream, but with the Devil, you never know. I don't want to hear anything more about the Jaguar or that bunch of animals; the worst part is that I can't even remember to whom I gave my soul. "Well, we're all condemned anyway," was my consolation.