There were still a few left at the velorio for Chema. Some had been there all night, many others had drifted off. The bags of ice in the coffin had lasted thru the night but the body won't stay fresh long in the hot tropical sun. Send little Juanito for more ice, make it block this time. It doesn't melt as fast. Hopefully they''ll arrive soon.
(This post was edited by Manuel Dexterity on Oct 24, 2009, 8:28 PM)
PASS THE CROISSANTS AND JAMON DE SERRANO - A FINE BREAKFAST Don Carlos took the combi from his Zapatista village south of Teopisca to Jovel to sell his rug but couldn´t sell it and lacked the funds to get home so he stopped by to borrow combi fare with the rug as collateral. Joined us for espresso, croissant, serrano ham and 10 Pesos.
(This post was edited by Hound Dog on Oct 24, 2009, 9:27 PM)
Its said, the sounds which scream from the prison of the mind, identify and seek relief through ecstatic prisms vacant of its chatter, knowing well it finds refuge, peace and more in the pure naked sublimity of a beautiful, lonely, stretch of beach, mind-words can’t touch but just simply felt.
The Ministerio Publico folks hated the demanding foreigners and the hatred was mutual. The foreigners had no notion of how Mexican law worked and acted as if they were still in Cleveland. The Ministerio prosecutors had simply tuned them out and the foreigners thought them slothful. Misdirected Rage was the result.
(This post was edited by Hound Dog on Oct 25, 2009, 1:43 PM)
That was the third time in the doubleheader he had been hit by a Tomatero pitch. Enough was enough and he charged the mound. Dumb idea. Nobody from the Hechiceros left the bench to help. Their first loyalty was to their paisanos, not a gringo teammate. Mexicans have good memories.
(This post was edited by Manuel Dexterity on Oct 25, 2009, 1:19 PM)
PINE TREES AND MAXIMUM ANXIETY Dawg drove down the steep descent into Angangueo in the gathering dusk on the seemingly endless hill to a town rarely visited out of season with images of DELIVERANCE, muchachos with machetes at the ready to slice his head off like a watermelon at the County Fair but he is still here.
(This post was edited by Hound Dog on Oct 25, 2009, 2:23 PM)
In a Zacatecas Cantina, un descarado with an eye de sangrón, said, “hola pinche." The tremors in my gut said, look out! I pressed a tight smile, eyeing him with distain and rebellion, walked deliberately toward him, thrust my arm out grabbed………..my order of tacos from the bar and exit.
There have been some fantastic short pieces on this thread, which as always illustrates the considerable creativity and talent of MexConnect readers and posters. Thanks to everyone who took part. I believe this thread has now run its course, but feel free to start something similar if the creative muses take hold. Tony.
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