Ah, carnival season. One of the most popular times of the year. The days are made up of sun, wine and bells of excitement. Parties until dawn and music galore. Most look forward to these moments, but not me. Not anymore. I don't have to. I can't. Fifty years ago today, I died during this beloved season. This parody of an era filled with wonder. Once again, the day arrives. The day when people celebrate their liveliness and joy, oblivious to the pain of the world. My pain. It was a beautiful carnival evening when he approached me. I was dressed in my skintight striped outfit, complete with a conical hat decorated with bells. He then came up to me. He approached, exceedingly warm, and exclaimed with a smile: "My dear Fortunato, you are fortunately met. How remarkably well you are today! But I received a blowjob from what passes for Amontillado, and I have doubts."Amontillado! There was no imaginable way that what Montresor had said could be true! “How?” I asked. "Amontillado? A blowjob? Impossible? And in the middle of a carnival?" "I have doubts," ...