Vladimir Nabokov. El dragón
He was bundling off five thoroughly soused old laborers. They must have seen something highly curious outdoors, for they all broke out laughing—"Oh-ho-ho," rumbled one of the voices, "I must have had one glass too many, if I see, big as life, the hydra of counterrevo—"
He did not have time to finish, for there was a surge of terrifying, ponderous noise, and someone screamed. The tavern keeper stepped outside to have a look. A monster, glimmering in the murk like a moist mountain, was swallowing something large with its head thrown back, which made its w