Angel: The Immortal Bureaucrat

In the quaint town of Villa Perdida, nestled in the heart of Andalusia, there lived a man named Angel. With his rotund figure, glasses perched on his nose, and a voice that carried the weight of centuries, Angel was a peculiar figure. He was, in fact, an immortal bureaucrat, forever bound to the labyrinthine corridors of the Spanish bureaucracy. Angel had first entered the world of paperwork and red tape shortly after the Reconquista in 1492. As an eager apprentice in the local town hall, he was enchanted by the seemingly endless stacks of documents and the meticulous stamping of official seals. Little did he know that this would be his eternal fate. Over the centuries, Angel had seen it all. He had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the birth and death of monarchs, and the ebb and flow of societal trends. Yet, amidst all the change, one thing remained constant: the incessant growth of bureaucracy in Spanish life. In the year 1588, Angel found himself at the center of a grand military initiative. As one of the leading politicians behind the Spanish Armada, he eagerly awaited victory over the shores of Great Britain. Alas, fate had other plans. Sir Francis Drake, a cunning adversary, discovered a fatal flaw in the Spanish plan. The cannonballs on their ships were too large for their cannons, rendering them useless in battle. The defeat of the Armada was swift and devastating. Upon learning of this defeat, Angel, in his strident Andalusian accent, cried out in dismay, "¡Qué me haces, Francis! I thought you were a friend, but you're an evil person!" Despite the disappointment, Angel remained true to his bureaucratic roots. He continued to dutifully attend his daily tasks at the town hall, where mountains of paperwork awaited him. Permits needed to be granted, applications had to be reviewed, and endless forms had to be filled. Life carried on, entangled in the web of bureaucracy. As the years turned into centuries, Angel watched as the Spanish way of life became increasingly ensnared in red tape. Every aspect of existence seemed to require a form, a stamp, and a never-ending trail of signatures. Birth certificates, marriage licenses, and even licenses to breathe (well, maybe not that last one, but it wouldn't be surprising). Through it all, Angel endured, his immortal life mirroring the unchanging nature of Spanish bureaucracy. The world around him transformed, but the paperwork persisted. He became a relic of an era long gone, a living testament to the enduring spirit of Spanish bureaucracy. And so, the immortal bureaucrat trudged on, drowning in an ocean of paperwork, forever longing for a simpler time. The Spanish way of life remained tethered to the whims of bureaucracy, its citizens navigating a convoluted maze of forms and regulations. But Angel found solace in his immortality, for as long as there was paperwork to be done, he would have purpose. And so, he embraced his role, knowing that his existence was an absurd reflection of the onerous and convoluted bureaucracy that had become a fundamental part of Spanish life.