Raucous escapades south of the border. |
Seeking a change, my vagabond soul led me down south of the border to a little shanty town where people will leave you alone as long as you are ready to lay your money down. Lodgings cost but a pittance, and the bars serve warm beer and cheap tequila. Of course, you can’t be picky about the boozers, misfit losers, rusty trucks, or dirt roads that are quite dusty. Being busted, I got a job down at Rosy’s Bar dusting off the stock and mopping the floor, which bordered on an even exchange since I drank up as much as the other losers. My neighbor Jose and an old guy named Raul disliked being alone, so they sat together playing dominoes and drinking tequila late into the night. I don’t have any idea how many shots we put down. Next morning, we all felt really down so we went back to Rosy’s to wash the dust from our throats with a few more shots of tequila. That night I staggered and fell into the hedges bordering Rosy’s house as I tried to make my way home alone. Needless to say, my job was lost. My resolute spirit wasn’t about to let that loss get the best of me and keep me down. There was a rich woman in a town nearby who was very lonely because her old man had bit the dust. I expressed my sympathies and admiration and told her I was borderline insane over her. We celebrated our engagement with a shot of tequila. Jose was my best man, and Raul brought the tequila to the wedding, where no time was lost in getting the ceremonies completed within the borders of propriety so we could get to our downy bed in her fine house on a dustless road, where I vowed nevermore to leave her alone. To my dismay, as soon as we were alone, she started laying down restrictions, such as no more tequila, and drove me crazy constantly cleaning with her feather duster. I was terrified by the prospect that my freedom had been lost and determined that she would not hold me down. So I fled for dear life back across the border. The moral to my tale is this: If you lose your freedom, your life might as well be dust, so don’t go down south of the border. Hey, you! Leave my tequila alone! |