They had not even given a couple of licks to the sweet ice cream in the waffle cones, when out of nowhere the youngest Benitez naively let out a thunderclap with his mouth. Unwittingly, he asked the most dangerous or even the most feared and hated question by don Paco, the typical question that we always evade, knowing full well that someday will come as a slap in the face and be forced to turn the other cheek, almost for the sake of obligation or for the mere whim of history. "Grandpa Paco, what is a faggot?" Asked the little angel with a beaming gaze, free of all fault, innocent before the gale that would befall him once his question explained. It was the first time he had heard that word and his closest confidant, the person to whom he could ask help to interpret all curiosity, was his paternal grandfather.The old man tempestuously halted his stroll. His body became paralyzed. The Fallen Angel looked askance, frowned his brow, and began to fly as high as he could; he did not want to participate in the verbal scuffle that was fast approaching. The air froze, time stood still, the Crystal Palace shattered in thousand pieces; the entire park turned into an astonished petrified forest. It was obvious that the unusual question had deeply penetrated the grandfather, so much so that it tore apart his soul. Without measuring his force, the old man tightened with fury the miniscule hand of his descendant as the youngster writhed with pain. Furiously, the tormented recluse shouted at him: