Day CCLXXXV

Da Gauchos Won

     I grabbed the phone, and called George,

     “Yo, man…he hee heee, Ahgentina won, man, ha ha ha!”

     “Waaaa at?”

     “Donya memba det shit out in Queens diz aftanoon, man?”

     “So?”

     “Det wuz alla bout dem Suckers, man!”

     “And?”

     “Well memba how dem paisans beat da stuffing out dem gauchos, man?”

     “Yea man, det wuz some out wite evil shit, man!”

     “Well they had a Sucker match diz evening, and guess wat?”

     Silence.

     “Da Gauchos won, man, da gauchos wonnnn!”

     “Really!”

     “Yea, Wolf jest sed it ona noos, man.”

     “Say goo nite Gracie!”

     “Nite Gracie!”

     I got a strong urge to lite up, hung up and I went looking for a smoke. When I couldn’t find one, because I had thrown the pack in the garbage, I found a half a butt in one ash tray and it up. I don’t know how long it had been there, it could have there for days, I didn’t know. I took one drag, and it was stale, reminding me of the cigis back in the Philipines.

     “Haaacck…Damn I forgot I quit today!” I blurted out.

     I put the butt out, and since I wasn’t quite sleepy yet, I sat in my chair and mulled over the events of the past week; more than half of which, I spent out in some weird evil Disney world, a Twilight Zone, a cosmic mind game of some sort. If there was a guardian Angel, then mine was working overtime. Twice I could have been killed, and for most of the week, it seems I could have permanently landed in the loony bin. We indeed must have Guardian Angels. As far as I was concerned it was not a child’s myth, nor a mother's tale, too many things had happened to throw them into a coincidence equation.