Miguel
Miguel opened the door to the cantina. The room smelled like marijuana and stale beer. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw many men sitting on one side of a large wooden table. These men were all trying to get the attention of their boss, who sat in the middle of the table. The scene reminded Miguel of Da Vinci’s Last Supper. The boss was a skinny gringo with long dirty blond hair and a thin brown mustache. A green baseball hat blocked his eyes when he tipped his head. On the table in front of the man, lay a suitcase and a machine gun. The men sitting around him looked up to eye Miguel. Each man had a small shotgun and a pistol in front of him.
“Buenos dias, Miguel,” the grimy man in the green hat said, waving a slow burning joint in the air for emphasis. “I think we’ve got a little problem here, amigo. I see $40,000 worth of cash in this suitcase of mine, and you only delivered half the coke I asked for. I’m guessing you’re either here to give me the rest of my coke or maybe you’re just here to explain where it is.”
Miguel felt inside his shirt for the Uzi. He was about to remove it, when his woman walked in the door. Maria walked over to Miguel, ignoring the catcalls of the men at the table, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Maria was so beautiful, her face angelic, her breasts soft and full. Miguel was proud that that the most beautiful girl in town belonged to him.
“Miguel,” she said softly. “Come away from here. These men are dangerous. I do not want you to get hurt over this. Please?”
Miguel shifted his eyes off the gringo, grabbed Maria’s head, pulled her down, and kissed her passionately.
“Maria, go outside and wait for me while I deal with this scum.” He pushed her away and she rushed out of the cantina.
“Well,” said the gringo in the green hat. “I guess from the way you’re acting, that you don’t have the rest of my coke.”
“That is correct, senor,” Miguel said, pulling the Uzi out of his shirt.
Miguel sprayed the bullets across the table, killing the five men to the left of the gringo. The other men grabbed their guns and fired back at Miguel, the bullets ricocheting around him. He dove under the bench, grabbed two of the men by their feet, and pulled them under the table. He stabbed both of them in the heart with his switchblade. The four remaining men fired their guns at him, but the table he had pushed over blocked the bullets. His Uzi empty, he slammed his foot down on one of the dead men’s automatic weapon. As it flipped in the air, Miguel caught it with his left hand. He shot toward the four remaining men, their bodies jumping as the bullets riddled their torsos.
Now it was just the gringo and him. He aimed the gun at the man in the green hat and pulled the trigger, but the weapon was empty. The gringo laughed at Miguel and raised his pistol. He fired, but the bullet only grazed the Mexican’s head. He pulled the trigger again, but this time the gun jammed. He threw down the weapon, faced Miguel, and went into a karate stance.
“Just you and me, Mexican, mano-a-mano,” the gringo said, “and just so you’ll know ahead of time, I’m the black belt champion of
Miguel threw down the gun and raised his fists. The gringo jumped over the table, his blonde hair bouncing wildly beneath his hat. He stepped over a dead body and whipped his legs into the air toward Miguel’s head. Miguel feinted left, avoiding the blow. He swung his arm in an uppercut, breaking the gringo’s nose. The gringo fell to the floor, unconscious, as Miguel grabbed an automatic weapon from one of the dead men. He aimed it at the gringo in the green baseball hat, and fired at the motionless body.
“You may be the karate champion of Dallas, gringo, but I am the boxing champion of
“Gracias a Dios, esta’s bien,” she said, hugging Miguel. “Did you kill them all?”
“Yes, Maria,” Miguel replied. “They are all dead.”
“Oh Miguel,” she said breathlessly, brushing her large breasts against his arm. “I get so excited when I see you fight. Take me to my room and make love to me for hours.”
Maria placed a hand on Miguel’s arm, and with her other hand, she tapped him on the side of his head. Then she tapped him again and again.
“Miguel? Hey amigo, get up!” the man said, tapping Miguel with his hammer.” We got two more roofs to shingle. Get your Mexican ass up! Siesta is over.”
Miguel wiped the sleep from his eyes and lifted himself up from the side of the house where he had been leaning. He strapped on his tool belt and grudgingly followed the foreman back to the building that they had been working on.
“Come on amigo, we ain’t got all day,” said the foreman with the long dirty blond hair and a green baseball hat.
Miguel opened the door to the cantina. The room smelled like marijuana and stale beer. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw many men sitting on one side of a large wooden table. These men were all trying to get the attention of their boss, who sat in the middle of the table. The scene reminded Miguel of Da Vinci’s Last Supper. The boss was a skinny gringo with long dirty blond hair and a thin brown mustache. A green baseball hat blocked his eyes when he tipped his head. On the table in front of the man, lay a suitcase and a machine gun. The men sitting around him looked up to eye Miguel. Each man had a small shotgun and a pistol in front of him.
“Buenos dias, Miguel,” the grimy man in the green hat said, waving a slow burning joint in the air for emphasis. “I think we’ve got a little problem here, amigo. I see $40,000 worth of cash in this suitcase of mine, and you only delivered half the coke I asked for. I’m guessing you’re either here to give me the rest of my coke or maybe you’re just here to explain where it is.”
Miguel felt inside his shirt for the Uzi. He was about to remove it, when his woman walked in the door. Maria walked over to Miguel, ignoring the catcalls of the men at the table, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Maria was so beautiful, her face angelic, her breasts soft and full. Miguel was proud that that the most beautiful girl in town belonged to him.
“Miguel,” she said softly. “Come away from here. These men are dangerous. I do not want you to get hurt over this. Please?”
Miguel shifted his eyes off the gringo, grabbed Maria’s head, pulled her down, and kissed her passionately.
“Maria, go outside and wait for me while I deal with this scum.” He pushed her away and she rushed out of the cantina.
“Well,” said the gringo in the green hat. “I guess from the way you’re acting, that you don’t have the rest of my coke.”
“That is correct, senor,” Miguel said, pulling the Uzi out of his shirt.
Miguel sprayed the bullets across the table, killing the five men to the left of the gringo. The other men grabbed their guns and fired back at Miguel, the bullets ricocheting around him. He dove under the bench, grabbed two of the men by their feet, and pulled them under the table. He stabbed both of them in the heart with his switchblade. The four remaining men fired their guns at him, but the table he had pushed over blocked the bullets. His Uzi empty, he slammed his foot down on one of the dead men’s automatic weapon. As it flipped in the air, Miguel caught it with his left hand. He shot toward the four remaining men, their bodies jumping as the bullets riddled their torsos.
Now it was just the gringo and him. He aimed the gun at the man in the green hat and pulled the trigger, but the weapon was empty. The gringo laughed at Miguel and raised his pistol. He fired, but the bullet only grazed the Mexican’s head. He pulled the trigger again, but this time the gun jammed. He threw down the weapon, faced Miguel, and went into a karate stance.
“Just you and me, Mexican, mano-a-mano,” the gringo said, “and just so you’ll know ahead of time, I’m the black belt champion of
Miguel threw down the gun and raised his fists. The gringo jumped over the table, his blonde hair bouncing wildly beneath his hat. He stepped over a dead body and whipped his legs into the air toward Miguel’s head. Miguel feinted left, avoiding the blow. He swung his arm in an uppercut, breaking the gringo’s nose. The gringo fell to the floor, unconscious, as Miguel grabbed an automatic weapon from one of the dead men. He aimed it at the gringo in the green baseball hat, and fired at the motionless body.
“You may be the karate champion of Dallas, gringo, but I am the boxing champion of
“Gracias a Dios, esta’s bien,” she said, hugging Miguel. “Did you kill them all?”
“Yes, Maria,” Miguel replied. “They are all dead.”
“Oh Miguel,” she said breathlessly, brushing her large breasts against his arm. “I get so excited when I see you fight. Take me to my room and make love to me for hours.”
Maria placed a hand on Miguel’s arm, and with her other hand, she tapped him on the side of his head. Then she tapped him again and again.
“Miguel? Hey amigo, get up!” the man said, tapping Miguel with his hammer.” We got two more roofs to shingle. Get your Mexican ass up! Siesta is over.”
Miguel wiped the sleep from his eyes and lifted himself up from the side of the house where he had been leaning. He strapped on his tool belt and grudgingly followed the foreman back to the building that they had been working on.
“Come on amigo, we ain’t got all day,” said the foreman with the long dirty blond hair and a green baseball hat.
