Day CCCXXXVI

Not My Day to Die

     So as he glared at me, I looked out, and as he started to level his gun at me, I screeched the hell out of there. I got as far as the corner when the freaking light just had to turn red. I looked back to see if he was coming after me, and suddenly there was a huge crowd,

     “Git him, he shot Pepe!”

     Somebody screamed as he pointed at him. It was two or three O’clock in the afternoon, I really don’t remember now, but a lot of people had seen him, people who knew him. He ran up the block, and as he was about to turn the corner, he looked at me and smiled, as if to say you lucky mother foe. But the mob was just a few yards behind him, and he had to keep running. I took the freaking red light, and screeched a left in the opposite direction. I went down to Broadway, made another left, and at eighty six street, nervously thought,

     “Screw diz, I’m going da eff home!”

     I made another left into eighty sixth street to cross the park, but as I got to CPW, the light changed on me again. Then as I sat there at the corner of CPW nervously trying to lite one up as I waited for the light to change, guess who comes running down Central Park West…right in front of my car? Yup, him again, and again he smiled at me as the light changed. He must have been a sprinter because he was way ahead of the crowd. But I didn’t give a damn about any of of them, I floored that sucker and came home. I don’t know what happened, but I chain smoked all the way home, lighting one after the other, vainly trying to calm my nerves down.

Day LXII

The oficiales

     He had a long moniker with three or four names, and I couldn’t remember any  of them if my life depended on it. So I called him Jeffe. That’s like calling him boss, and he liked it. Then I explained that Juan was was a stupido, and believed the girl was in loved with him.

     “I understood that!”

     “Be cool, man!” I whispered to Angel.

     “Ha ha aha ha ho ho ho hee heee heee!”

     Jeffe, and two of his oficiales cracked up, and the fat one had to sit down, really he was holding onto his belly as he sat down, and as he did so, he let loose a sharp fart in the process, that made them laugh all the harder.

     “Aha ha ha Pepe, he farts.” El jeffe laughed as he pointed at him.

     After a moment, when they had calmed down, I asked him what we needed to do to get him out.  I explained that Juan was of Mexican descent, born and raised in California, and didn’t speak Spanish. Then he told us the whole story of how he tried to bamboozle the senyorita. They didn’t tolerate that down there. Well, I said again, the poor sap thought she was in love with him.

     “Ha ha aha ha ha ha! That is funny, mucho funny amigo.” He laughed.

     Then he says, there are always drunks, who don’t want to pay. But this was the first time he heard a story like ours…that Juan was in love. That was just too rich, and so they cracked again.

     “What’s up dude?”

     “Later, man, later.” I responded.

     Then El Jeffe says, “He has to pay the senyoreeeta, and we let him go,” as he opened his arms out to his side.

     At that moment it occurred to me that senyorita means virgin, and I wanted to crack up. But things were going well, and I didn’t want to screw it up, so I bit my tongue.