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I find myself in my car once again waiting for the sluggish line on the international bridge to slowly inch forward, trying to block the unforgiving sun set on cooking my face. This is my life in a nutshell these days. I don’t know how many hours I have wasted, waiting, in never ending lines of vehicles that cough up clouds of smoke.  Fighting off vendors trying to sell me garbage and ignoring the pudgy copper women with extended hands, filthy and trembling, begging for spare change. Rolling up my window as if it’s some kind of force field that cuts me off from the world outside. Yes, this is what my life has become, a sad routine that I’m doomed to repeat day in and day out. And for what? To go put in hours at a job that I despise. A job that I have only accepted because it’s the only place that will hire me with my pending charges. Charges I have been going to court for for over a year now. And yet every time I show up all the legal system can do is reschedule me again, and again, and again. Well, fuck you too.

The line is at a standstill as the agent tears through the vehicle up ahead, determined to find drugs or somebody stashed away in the trunk. I find it amusing how they pretend to do their job so well while the car that actually has the drugs in the next lane is waved on through with a simple, “Welcome to the United States.” I reach for my cigarettes which I have stashed away in my backpack to prevent the assholes from taking them away from me when I finally cross. I light up and take a deep drag. The smoke makes its way into my body pushing out any agitation I had in there before like a cloud of morphine. It’s amazing how cigarettes can do that. I imagine this is what junkies must feel when getting their fix. That brief moment when the world doesn’t seem such a terrible place and you feel like you can actually forge on and fight back. Too bad that moment will soon pass.

The line jerks forward as one more vehicle is let into the promise land up ahead. How much longer is this going to take? I swear I’ve finished a pack of cigarettes already… might as well start on a new one. I switch my weight around trying to relief the pain in my lower back shooting from one nerve to another. Did I forget to mention I also got hurt at my job awhile back? Well, I did. As if I didn’t hate my job enough already. It was about a month ago, when I was the lucky asshole chosen to dispose of the used cooking oil from the deep fryers. Now let me explain this shit in more detail. You see, first of all, I need to clarify just how shitty the equipment at my job is. I imagine that the deep fryers we use are the original deep fryers to hit the market. Three words, ANCIENT AS FUCK! I have dead relatives that are probably younger than these pieces of shit. And it isn’t just the deep fryers, everything there is falling apart, however I will concentrate on the fryers given that they are to blame for my current predicament. So unlike most restaurants that now have the newer deep fryers that filter themselves, we have the pleasure of having to remove the cooking oil manually. What does this mean? It means we set up pots at a tube located at the base of the fryer and open a valve that then lets the dirty gunk in the fryer out. Needless to say, most of the oil ends up on you or on the floor around you and not in the pots. But after you’re done cleaning that shit up you then have the honor of disposing of whatever oil you did manage to catch two floors down.

 So picture me walking through the crowd covered in filth, pushing a cart with a number of grease filled pots. Pretty sad huh? I manage to reach my destination, a station set up outside in the back by the garbage disposal system. So basically now am I not just covered in cooking oil and god knows what else, but also I am now being assaulted by the thousands of flies that have decided to take up residence in this all you can eat trash buffet. I’m not kidding when I tell you this is a scene right out of The Amityville Horror films. Anyways, I begin the process of emptying out the pots into some rust infested tank that emits an odor so foul your eyes literally begin to water. I really need to invest in some goggles I suppose. Black gung with burned fries falls out of the pot in my hands and into the tank. I start with the smaller pots first figuring they will be easier and faster to get out of the way. I finish those leaving the last and biggest pot. Now I’m not sure how familiar you all are with Mexican cuisine. But this pot is similar to ones used to steam tamales. If you’re not sure what I mean just take my word for it that the motherfucker is HUGE! Plus it’s filled to the rim with used oil meaning not only is it a behemoth of a pot but also weighs a ton. Now of course, my employer being backwards in so many ways never considered it a necessity to provide me with a back belt or sending me assistance. So not wanting to look like the fag that I am, I decided what the hell you can do this by yourself. So I lift the damn thing from the cart and instantly feel the muscles in my back tense up followed by an intense pain shooting down my back. My body shriveled up from the pain very much like a closing Venus flytrap as I dropped the pot onto the floor emitting a tsunami of oil.

Whoever’s job it is to monitor the security cameras must have been too busy jacking off in the restroom because no one came to my aid. I sat there on the floor for a good twenty minutes in too much pain to get up. But when I came to the realization that no one was coming I managed to get up and make my way back upstairs, hunched over like an actor trying out for a part as Igor. To make things short, all my employer did was send me to the EMT’s we have at work who in turn said it was probably just a pulled muscle and gave me four ibuprofen tablets to take. “You’ll feel better in about two weeks, now get back to work.” Well, guess what motherfuckers, it’s been more than twice that much and still nothing.

So, as you can clearly tell I am not a happy camper in this particular moment. I have too much on my plate and not enough of an appetite for it. I would love to go on and whine about how sad my life is but I’m pretty sure you have problems of your own to deal with. The only difference is I don’t have to read about yours. Either way, while I was going on about work the line has moved significantly and I’m the next vehicle in line to cross. So I will have to leave you for the time being as my routine of a life has gone back into motion.

Could Have Been

I sat in silence holding a cup of coffee in my hands that grew colder with each passing moment. He sat across from me, a blank expression on his face as he stared out the window watching the rain falling in waves outside. I studied him, wondering what was going on behind those sad green eyes. What was the reason for all of this? Why had he brought me here? I truly doubted it was to watch him lost in thought all night.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

There was a sudden awareness in his eyes as he came back from whatever thoughts plagued him. He turned to me slowly, again those sad green eyes haunted me. “You know I love you, right?”

The words were cold and emotionless, deprived of the flame they held before. I was overcome suddenly with the realization that the night was headed for disaster. “What’s wrong?” I asked again as it was now obvious something was troubling him.

“You know things just aren’t the same anymore.”

“Things change.”

“But not always for the better.”

He took a sip from his coffee and placed the cup back on the table, gently, carefully, contemplating what to say next.

“You know I love you, right?” Again the same question was asked of me making me uneasy.

“Yes. And I love you back as I always have.”

His lips parted as he let out a heavy sigh and his eyes met mine. “That’s why I brought you here tonight, because I love you. Because I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”

“Anymore than you already have? What are you talking about?”

He leaned over pushing our drinks aside and took my hands in his. As always his grip was firm but his hands felt cold and clammy, so unlike him.

“I always feared this would happen.” He stated looking down at the table.

“That what would happen exactly?”

“We’ve grown apart, can’t you see? Things are not the same anymore, WE are not the same anymore.”

I let go of his hands, pulling back away from him. This is why we were here, this was to be our goodbye. I felt my body go numb and I found it harder to control my breathing. I couldn’t believe it, this couldn’t be happening.

“But why” I whispered.

“Who can say? Sometimes it just isn’t meant to be.”

My heart raced as memories of him flooded my mind, my head felt like it was on fire. I recalled the night I had met him, how it all had begun with a simple smile and a friendly “Hello”. I remembered our first kiss, and then our second, and third. I remembered the walks in the park, the long conversations on the phone, the flowers he gave me, the kisses goodnight when he dropped me off at home. What felt like a lifetime of happiness relived in the blink of an eye.

“Then why say that you love me?”

“Because I do, you know you will always have a special place in my heart. But I just can’t be with you anymore.”

“Boy, that must be very special indeed. You love me so much you can’t be with me.” I replied making sure that every word I uttered was saturated in hate and sarcasm.

“You don’t understand…” he started.

“No, I don’t understand” I interrupted, “How can you say you love somebody and then hurt them so easily? Why promise me something you never felt? Why string me along the way you did, only to cut me loose when I need you the most?”

“It’s not like that.” He replied.

“That’s exactly how it is!”

“How can I say this without sounding like a jerk?”

“There isn’t a way, so just say it.” I muttered under my breath.

“I’ve met someone else.”

It was a good thing I was sitting just then as that last statement came as a complete shock to me. Never in a million years did I expect to hear him utter those words and yet he did. I sat there frozen, wondering if my heart was still beating. Seconds felt like hours as I let this information sink in. I felt like the floor had been taken away from beneath my feet. But I knew I had to finish this, no matter how much I felt like curling up and dying at his feet.

“You met someone else…” I echoed his statement. He simply nodded in response. I turned away from him just then, I didn’t want him to see the tears that were forming in my eyes. I wouldn’t let him see how much his confession had wounded me. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure. I hid my pain behind my eyes, eyes that felt dead and empty now. “Then I guess there is nothing more to say.”

I stood up from the table praying that my legs wouldn’t give away under me and made my way towards the exit. I had to get out of there, I couldn’t endure the sight of him another moment. I stepped out into the cold rain not bothering to shield myself against it. The tenebrous sky reflected how I felt inside, no ray of light, no ray of hope. My heart felt shattered and broken.

I’m not sure how long I wondered aimlessly, lost in thought. It must have been for a good while given I was drenched to the bone, not that I cared. I was a mere shell of myself, a zombie walking the streets. My feet seemed to know the way though as I continued on my way in no direction in particular, my clothes sticking to me, my hair dripping down onto my face. 

Then I realized I knew this street, I had made my way to HIS street, a few blocks away from his home. Suddenly, I was filled with a sudden urge to see him, to have my say. I knew if I could just talk with him I could make him see the error of his way. He would realize that he couldn’t be happy with anybody else, that I was the only one for him and that we were meant to be together. Yes, I would run down to his house and demand to speak to him. I would win him back with my declarations of love and my promises of devotion. I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

I broke into a run, my vision blurred by the rain, my feet diving into endless puddles of water and mud. I ignored the pain that was shooting down my rib cage like the bolts of lightning that tore up the night sky. I was determined to reach him. I slowed my pace and came to a stop a few houses away from his. His car was parked in the driveway and I could tell even from where I stood that he was standing on his front porch.

I made my way closer and was about to call out to him when I noticed he wasn’t alone. I focused my eyes and realized he was embracing somebody. I felt my heart sink as I realized that must be the somebody else he met, the somebody else who stole his love away from me. I was too late, he had won.

I turned back around and came back the way I came. There was nothing else I could do, I had lost him. I walked down the street feeling another piece of me shrivel away and die with each step that I took. Never had I felt as alone as I did in that moment. I came to the realization that love is just not meant for me. I knew this must be true because whenever I thought I had finally found love, something always came swooping down to tear it away from my clutch.

I wondered off into the night, broken and wet, thinking “Why must I end up with nothing when he gets to end up with you?”

Black Pebbles

Sitting here trying to pull the words from my mind, words of happiness and better times. Yet all I get are these broken words, dark and cold, like black pebbles discarded on the floor only meant to be stepped on. How can I string these together? How can I share these sad words with the world? With hopes that somebody out there will take them in and nourish them. Remind them of a thing called joy. No, these words are birthed from somebody who is equally broken. No beautiful thing can come of me.

Here again, doomed to relive the same routine day in and day out. Nothing ever changes in this world, everything does as it has always been expected to. We are born and then we die. God I beg for something different, this existence has become tiresome and mundane. How many more cigarettes must I smoke before I am lost in insanity, lost amongst my tattered dreams? Merely a ghost of who I used to be.

I mustn’t forget to paint another smile on my face before I go out. Less people realize just how wounded I really am. Less people realize how I have lost my way. Wandering the streets in search of yesterday, when my heart knew of felicity. Another day another burden. Yet another problem I must bear. How much more must I carry on my chest, how much more must I endure?

Let go, let go. In the end I will fall, like smoke let the winds carry me away. What is the point after all? There is no winning in this game, everybody loses. Lay back and let my tired soul rest as life engulfs me like an angry wave. Let it drown me, there is no need to fight.

Close my eyes and close my mind to that that surrounds me. To the four walls that have always trapped me, never let me live. To the hate I have known my entire life, a poison that is slowly killing me. To those who wear many masks that call themselves my friends. To the acceptance I will never have. To the love I will never know.

All I have are broken words, dark and cold, like black pebbles discarded on the floor only meant to be stepped on.

Hopscotch

Drawing- Emily from Corpse Bride.

Drawing- Ursula from The Little Mermaid

Wanted to see if I could still draw worth a shit. Turns out I'm rusty as fuck. I officially ruined her when I decided to color her.

Fist Full Of Sand

I called his cell phone one more time, with hopes that he would answer. Straight to voicemail yet again. It had been over two hours since he left to go buy some beer, but last time I checked the corner store was not that far away. I knew he was up to something by this point, he wouldn’t have taken my car keys with him if he wasn’t. So I was stranded at home with no way to go look for him, not that I would know where to begin in all honesty. But being stuck here, not being able to do anything was driving me crazy.

Again, I pulled the curtains aside and peered through the window thinking maybe this time I would see headlights pulling into the driveway. No such thing, just some random alley cat relieving itself on the front lawn. I made a mental note to place some water dishes spiked with antifreeze out the next morning. Dinner had gotten cold a long time ago and I decided I best put it away, after all no one would be eating tonight by the looks of it. I didn’t have much of an appetite anyway, not after he pulled his vanishing act on me. I can’t say I was surprised; it wouldn’t be the first time he had pulled this shit on me. Yet the constant repetition didn’t ease the anger, growing in me like some disease spreading into my limbs. He would be sorry for abandoning me here tonight to go out and do god knows what.

I had already called some of his friends and family to make sure he hadn’t gone by to visit. They all said the same thing, they hadn’t heard from him. At least now if he came home telling me he went to visit his mother like he usually did, I could tell him what a bad liar he was. I tried to keep myself occupied by cleaning up a bit but even that didn’t seem to help and I finally ending up settling for watching reruns of Will and Grace trying to kill some time. That is all I had to do after all, wait for him to show up.

Soon enough I heard his truck pulling into its usual resting place in our driveway. I stopped pacing back and forth, from room to room, and went to stand by the front door. I stood there waiting for him to come in, preparing myself for any story he would try to have me believe, for I knew that anything that came out of his mouth would more than likely be a lie.

Finally, I heard the screen door creak as it was pulled open and his keys jangle as he inserted them to unlock the door. The door opened as he stepped in, or rather staggered in I should say. Apparently he had been telling the truth about buying beer as I could tell he was clearly intoxicated with the way he swerved to and fro. Now I just had to get to the bottom of WHERE he had gone to drink his beer. He wasn’t even completely through the doorway when I went off on him.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

He closed the door behind him and stepped past me, ignoring my question only leaving the stench of cheap beer behind. I followed him into the bedroom where he had begun to peel off his clothes. He seemed oblivious to the fact that I was standing there looking at him as he flung his dirty work boots into a corner of the room.

“I’m talking to you, don’t fucken ignore me! Where have you been?”

“Don’t start with me, I was at my moms.”

 He was lying to me, I had already called his mother. What kind of an idiot did he take me for?

“I spoke with your mother earlier liar, you weren’t there.”

He turned to me with a lost expression on his face. I could tell he was thinking of what to say next.

“Why did you take my keys? Where are they?”

“They’re in my truck.”

I stormed out of the bedroom and towards the front door, set on getting my car keys from his truck before he decided to take off with them again. I opened the vehicle quickly turning on the cabin light and searched for my keys. That’s when I noticed the smell, that oh so familiar smell. I stopped what I was doing and stood there processing what my nostrils were telling me. It was one of those occasions where you recognize the odor before you can actually give it a name. Then it hit me, it smelled like sex. You know what I’m talking about, that after sex smell that lingers in the air. Sweat and bodily fluids all mixed up into one unmistakable smell. I peered into the backseat and sure enough what was lying on the floor? A used condom filled with semen, discarded amongst empty beer cans and never given a second thought.

I felt something explode in me, a fury not commonly known to me. That’s why his phone had been off, that’s why he had been gone for over two hours, that’s why he had to lie and say he was at his mother’s! I slammed the truck door behind me and rushed back into the bedroom where he was now lying in the bed.

“You asshole! You forgot to throw out the condom!”

He shot up from the bed with an expression of both worry and guilt on his face. He knew what I was talking about.

“Who was it?!” I spat at him.

“Babe, let me explain.”

“What could you possibly say that would explain this? You know what you did, I caught you.”

He remained silent for a moment, contemplating whether to proceed or not. His silence seemed to go on for what felt like an eternity. I needed answers and I needed them now.

“My brother borrowed my truck for awhile babe. That’s probably where…”

“That’s enough, don’t you dare lie to me again.” I interjected. “Nothing you can say is going to get you out of this. Who was it?”

“Fine, if you’re so set on knowing the truth, yes I fucked around tonight. There, you happy?”

It was my turn to be silent. I couldn’t quite grasp what I had just heard. A pain blossomed in my chest, a broken heart its cause, pieces falling apart like dried petals from a deceased flower.  True, I had thought maybe that was what he had been up to, but something in me was praying I was wrong. And now he just blurted it out with no feeling what so ever, as if he was simply giving me the time or answering some other mundane question.

“Just like that?” I stated.

“Just like that. What can I say, the dick is good.”

I knew what he was doing, placing salt into the wound. But I couldn’t help myself, it hurt more than I expected it to, hearing those words escape his lips, his cheating, lying lips. Just then I couldn’t bare to see him, I wanted to be as far away from him as humanly possible.

“If it’s so fucken good, why don’t you go back with him? See if he puts up with half the shit I do.” I yelled at him as I turned and made my way for the door.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I’m leaving! I don’t have to put up with this anymore. I’ve been wanting to leave for some time now, thank you for finally giving me an excuse!”

He shot out from the room shoving me aside and stood between me and the front door, “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Get out of my way.”

“You wanted to talk so let’s talk.”

“I have nothing else to say to you.”

I tried pushing him aside but he stood his ground. I was practically foaming at the mouth by this point and I pushed him hard with hopes of removing him from the way yet again. I wasn’t expecting what happened next as he swung at me, his fist making contact with my face. I was stunned for a second, little stars obstructing my view, but when I was able to focus again I saw him rushing at me. Before I had time to react he had pinned me against a wall with both his hands around my neck, squeezing with all his strength. I tried pulling them away to no avail and given our position I couldn’t swing at him. In desperation I clawed at his face and tried digging my fingers into his eyes like I had seen in a movie once.

He loosened his grip and I took advantage, switching my weight over onto my left leg and kneeing him in the groin with my right. He fell back, grabbing his groin. I remember seeing red, I’m not one to look for fights but when you set me off, all hell breaks loose. I jumped on him, making sure to pin his arms underneath me and started swinging at his face. One after another my clenched fists found their target.

He finally managed to shove me off and we both shot up off from the floor. He let another right hook lose at me which I was able to avoid by stepping back. He however was not so quick and again my right fist pounded away at his face. I’m not sure when he got a hold of the lamp from one of the side tables exactly, but he did. And he was not hesitant about flinging it at me. I felt a hot liquid pour down my face and I soon realized it was blood. The motherfucker had cut me. I ran to the other side table and grabbed the other lamp and made sure to repay the favor. Smashing it over his head, he fell back onto the floor laying in pieces of broken ceramic from the shattered lamps. I kicked him a couple of times wanting nothing more than to hurt him, to make him pay for his infidelity, for the blood I was now losing.

Wait, the blood I was now losing. I snapped out of my rage realizing I could quite possibly be seriously hurt. I ran out the front door leaving him on the living room floor and made my way to my car. Fuck, I hadn’t found my keys earlier.  A few of the neighbors were standing outside trying to figure out what was going on and I noticed some were on the phone.

“Great, they’re calling the police” I thought to myself.

I left my car behind and made a run for it on foot. I wanted to get away from there, leave it all behind. I started running down the street. I’m not sure how many blocks I had covered when I finally decided to stop under the cover of some overgrown bushes on the side of the street. Trying to catch my breath, I pulled off my shirt and started wiping away the blood from my face. So much blood. From what I gathered I had a cut or gash somewhere on my head. Great, at least it’s not on my face.

Going to the hospital was out of the question. That would be the first place the cops would go looking for me, if they went looking for me at all. I wasn’t sure how badly I had hurt him after all I did leave him lying on the floor when I left. What if that lamp to the head had killed him? What if indeed the cops were out looking for me now. I felt fear and panic begin to surge through my body as I again took off running.

I had no idea where I was going, I just knew I couldn’t be anywhere close by. I ran for what felt like forever only occasionally stopping to wipe the blood away from my eyes, oh how it stung. By now I could start feeling aches in my body from the blows we had exchanged earlier. I guess with all the adrenaline rushing through my veins at the time I hadn’t realized just how many times he had indeed managed to hit me. It was evident now with how badly I was sore in places.

I ended up at my mother’s front door, I suppose subconsciously I feel the safest with her. Luckily she still kept an extra key hidden on her front porch and I let myself in, careful not to make too much noise less I wake her up and have to explain everything to her. No, not tonight, I just wanted this night to be over with. I’ll worry about it tomorrow. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it as my mother would say.

I made my way into what used to be my room, untouched even though I hadn’t lived with my mom in some years. I sank into my bed suddenly tired beyond believe. Please take me into your arms sweet Morpheus, I wish to rest my tired mind. Everything I knew had been lost this night, never to be the same again. I wrapped myself with the blankets, trying to disappear from the world. Again, I felt liquid running down my face, only this time it was my tears escaping me. And then sweet nothing as I dosed off into a troubled sleep.

Sweetest Perfection

Matthew tossed his jacket onto the couch as he searched blindly for the light switch. The room was revived in bright light as Matthew, his boyfriend Brandon, and Brandon’s brother Paul staggered into the small living room. They were just getting home from a drunken night out in town at the expense of Paul having had a fight with his girlfriend. Matthew went into the kitchen and grabbed some cold beers from the fridge and returned to the living room where Brandon and Paul had already sat down on one of the lumpy couches.  Matthew handed out the beers as he observed just how wired the brothers really looked, pupils enlarged, teeth grinding and cotton mouth at its worst. Matthew wondered if he looked just as bad.

“You guys want another line?” Matthew asked as he pulled out a small baggy from his front pocket.

“You even need to ask bro?” Paul laughed back.

Matthew poured out a generous amount of cocaine onto a mirror he kept on the center table just for this type of occasion. He pulled out a credit card and a dollar bill from his wallet and was quick to make three thick lines of coke and rolled up the dollar bill.

“Ladies first” he giggled as he leaned over the center table and sniffed in the larger of the three lines.

His nose burned as the powder form of happiness made its way into his system. This was some good shit to say the least, the world seemed a better place in an instant as he felt the drug  jump start his entire body. Matthew watched as the brothers took turns taking their lines as he sat back and popped open his beer. The cold liquid felt like heaven against his dry mouth.

It had been like this for some time now, ever since Matthew had moved in his with his boyfriend. It was with him after all that he had picked up the expensive habit that is cocaine. Many nights were lost in that living room. Drowning in alcohol and lines of coke just like this evening.

The silence was broken as Paul’s cell phone started to ring in his pocket. He pulled it out and ignored the call.

“It’s that bitch” he stated, referring to his girlfriend. “I’m in no mood to talk with her right now.”

“You should turn off your phone, that’ll give her something to worry about” Matthew suggested.

“I think I will, make her think I’m out fucking some whore”

“Cheers to that” Matthew stated as he took another long swig of his beer.

“I think we need another line” Brandon interjected.

And so more coke was spilled onto the mirror, and more lines were snorted.

“What are you and your girl fighting about anyways” Matthew asked Paul, wiping away the white residue from his nostrils.

“What aren’t we fighting about. That bitch starts a fight over any little thing. I had to get out of the house.”

“You know we’re here whenever you need us” Brandon added as he got up to turn on the radio.

More beers were brought from the kitchen and again another set of lines were cut. Matthew wasn’t sure if it was the coke taking effect or if the room really was getting warmer. He could feel sweat trickling down his temple. “God damn, it’s hot in here!”

“Tell me about it” Paul agreed. “I hope you don’t mind but I’m going to get a bit more comfortable since I’m going to crash here anyways.” Paul proceeded to pull off his shirt revealing a tight and chiseled body. The gym was obviously doing him good. Matthew felt a tug at his groin as he looked over Paul’s god like body with its perfect pink nipples hiding amongst a bed of dark chest hair.

“I hope you don’t think it’s weird, but whenever I’m this wired, I can’t go to sleep until I jack off. You guys got any porn I can watch?” Paul continued as he started pulling off his pants remaining in just his navy blue boxers.

Matthew was glad at that moment that he had decided not to throw out his straight porn. He went into the bedroom and pulled the shoe box where he kept them out from the closet.

“This is all the straight porn your brother and I have. We have plenty of gay porn however, but I’m assuming this should be fine?”

“Yeah, this will do the trick” Paul answered as he looked over  a DVD box with women swallowing mammoth sized cocks. “Fuck, you know how long it’s been since my girl has sucked my dick?”

“Too long?” I responded.

“Exactly” he laughed. “This coke has got me horny as fuck, I'm going to put this on now, ok?”

Matthew laughed internally, so much like his brother Brandon. He also would watch hours and hours of porn whenever he was high on coke. “Yeah, that’s cool.”

It was funny how it seemed like the most normal of things, the three of them sitting in the living room, doing lines and drinking beer as a blond girl got fucked in the ass on the television set. It was evident this wasn’t the first time the brothers had watched porn together, both of them had their eyes glued to the television set as if in a daze. Paul leaned back and pushed his hand down his shorts, rubbing himself, never taking his eyes of the movie. Matthew was excited knowing there was only a thin layer of clothes between him and Paul’s cock. His mouth watered at the thought of it and his mind ran wild with thoughts of what he’d do with him if given the opportunity. He realized he was hard as his cock throbbed in his jeans, begging to be let out. But remembering his boyfriend was there made him change his mind.

Matthew got up and made his way to the bathroom, trying to push all thoughts of Paul out from his mind. What would Brandon think if he knew what was crossing his mind? It was his brother after all. Just then there was a knock on the bathroom door and Brandon let himself into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

“What are you doing in here babe? He inquired.

“Came to take a leak babe. What’s up?”

“I normally wouldn’t even give this a second thought, but Paul was just asking me if I would consider letting you suck him off.”

“What?” Matthew stammered.

“Yeah, he was telling me when you got up to come to the restroom. Says his girl doesn’t give him head and that you look like the type that would give a hell of a blow job.”

“What are you trying to say Brandon?”

“Well, I think it’d be pretty hot watching you and my brother. Besides, don’t think I haven’t seen you drooling over him all night.”

“That’s not true, I haven’t even…”

“It’s alright, I want you to. If you really love me like you say you do, you’ll do this for me this one time.”

Matthew stood there, shocked at what Brandon was asking of him. True, he had been thinking about it himself. But never in a million years did he think it would actually happen. Paul was straight, and his brother, Matthew’s boyfriend, was here!

The two exited the restroom and made their way back into the living room where Paul already had his cock out, viciously tugging on it. Brandon led Matthew over besides Paul and before Matthew had  had a chance to process the entirety of what was happening he found himself on his knees, swallowing Paul’s massive meat. He could taste his salty pre cum as he took in Paul’s musky aroma. Paul grabbed Matthew’s head with both his hands and forced him down shoving every inch of his manhood down Matthew’s throat.

“You like that cock don’t you bitch?” Paul groaned.

Matthew coughed and sputtered and choked as he swallowed him. He was greedy in his desire to contain him and managed to maintain composure enough to catch and drain every drop from him.

Brandon had taken a seat in the opposite coach where he had a perfect view of Matthew and his brother. The bulge in his jeans gave away his excitement. He undid his jeans and let out his throbbing meat, and gently started pulling on it. The head was wet with pre cum and shone in the dark with the light emitted from the television.

“Fuck his tight little ass Paul” he stated as he switched hands now tugging harder than before.

“You want me to fuck you? You want me to fuck you like my brother fucks you bitch?” Paul groaned at Matthew.

Paul pulled himself out of Matthew’s mouth and threw him onto the couch. He was quick to pull Matthew’s pants down exposing his hungry little ass. He pushed his shoulders down and with his other hand lifted Matthew by the waist. He spit into Matthew’s puckered hole and started to shove his index finger roughly into him. Matthew let out a moan, he was beyond pleasure, excited that his boyfriend was watching him do these things with his brother. Matthew felt pressure as Paul started to push the head of his cock against his hungry hole. He started grinding back into Paul, eager to have him inside him.

“No wonder why my brother’s with you, you’re a horny little bitch! You want me to fuck you? Tell me you want this cock in you!”

Matthew started to reply, “Yes Paul,  I want you to…”

He was cut off as Paul shoved his entirety into him, in one swift thrust. Matthew moaned in pain as he felt his insides stretched by Paul’s massive member. Paul put his hand over Matthew’s mouth muffling his cries of ecstasy and with his free hand grabbed him by the shoulder pulling him into himself, each time his cock digging deeper into Matthew. Matthew was now screaming in pleasure, Paul was a beast when it came to sex. He loved the feeling of being used for the sole purpose of getting off. He loved being fucked opposed to being made love to. And that was exactly what this was, he was being fucked like a common whore and loving every second of it.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the room as Paul continued in his frenzied thrusts giving the actors in the adult film a run for their money. Matthew had never felt so filled not even with Brandon. His own member was oozing pre cum as he started to pleasure himself, matching the rhythm of the man pounding away behind him. He could feel it wouldn’t be long before he shot his load with the way that Paul was hitting all the right spots at all the right times.

Brandon was standing beside his brother now, naked, watching everything with a bird’s eye view. Watching his brother’s cock slide in and out of his lover’s hole. Watching as Matthew writhed in pain and pleasure as his brother had his way with him.

“I’m about to come!” Brandon moaned.

Matthew felt Paul pull out of him, leaving a gaping hole wanting more. He heard Brandon and Paul’s moans just before he felt his back splattered in hot liquid. The brothers had orgasmed at the same time, emptying their loads onto Matthews back. It was all Matthew could take, he rose onto his knees tightening his grip on his meat and started to tug like a mad man. Soon waves of hot cum shot out of him soiling the couch he had just been fucked on.

The three of them sank into the couch, exhausted by the acts of passion that had just unfolded moments ago. Matthew sat in between both brothers, catching his breath, still disbelieving what had just happened. But indeed it had, his boyfriend’s brother had been his. He stood up and again made his way to the center table where he cut three more lines.

“Just a little pick-me-up and then it’s time for Round two” he stated while raising the rolled dollar bill to his nostril.

The Smell of Vomit and Mint

I walked back and forth down the narrow hallway, jotting down the location of the patients under my care. It was part of my new job here at the Psychiatric Rehab Center I had recently landed a job at. The hallway was dark due to the fact that maintenance had not been by to fix the light I had submitted a report about since the week before and stank of urine since one of the elderly patients thought it funny to wet herself just to have the nurses come by and change her. The tan walls were lined with the many wooden doors that led into the patients rooms and the tiled floor was till slippery since it had been waxed the night before. It was hard to hear my own thoughts with the sound of laughter emitting from one of the rooms with a woman who laughed at her own jokes in it. It was my second week on the floor on my own and I was still getting the hang of things. But I have to admit this was a nice change from calling people at home in the middle of dinner trying to sell them something they really didn’t need. Quite frankly I had the tendency to surround myself with people who were a little “off” and this wasn’t too much of a difference. As a matter of fact, most of the patients voiced how much they loved me and how nice I was compared to the other workers. That didn’t come as a surprise to me, after all I noticed the way they looked down on them and cracked jokes at the patients expense when they were training me. Not me, I empathized with them. How could I not? I know I’ve been on the brink of insanity when life has become unbearable; the hardest thing in this world is just to live in it after all. I found myself enjoying conversations with these people on many occasions. I’ve always loved listening to stories about people’s personal journeys. These stories were just a bit more heartbreaking, littered with drug abuse, loss, and depression.

I made my way over to the day room once I finished with my notes and sat next to Georgina on the couch. Georgina was a tall woman with cropped blonde hair who was originally from Louisiana. She often told me she would cook me a good old fashion Cajun meal once she was discharged. The thing about Georgina was she was a difficult woman, outspoken and defiant. Many workers had warned me about her and told me to keep my guard up around her. But what would you know, she and I hit it off the moment we met. She often referred to me as Honey and Sugar, especially whenever she wanted me to take her out for another smoke break. She was always the sweetest person whenever it came to me. She would say the thing she loved about me the most was that I always had time to listen to her.  She was being treated for severe depression and suicidal thoughts. You see Georgina had lost her husband and son in a terrible car accident. Their car had been rammed off the road and into a nearby river where her family drowned, she was the one driving and was the cause of the accident. She was ridden with guilt as she so often shared in group and wished only to join her family in death. But today seemed to be a good day for her, evident in the way she turned and smiled at me.

“Morning baby is it almost time for a smoke break” she asked leaning over to hug me.

“Almost Ms. Georgina just got a few more things I need to catch up with first.”

“Alright then honey. You let me know when you’re ready, just don’t make me wait too long you got it?”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll be sure to make it quick.”

I got up from the seat and made my way over to Elizabeth’s room. She had been in the shower for the last forty-five minutes or so which wasn’t something out of the ordinary. Lizzy, as I so often called her, was bulimic and given that was a skeleton of a girl, nothing but skin and bones. She was almost always too drugged up to socialize and usually sat in her room half asleep, eyes all but closed and mind wandering off into different realities. Whenever she did get up, it was always in lethargic, sloth like motions, taking an eternity just to walk to the opposite end of the room. Watching her serve herself coffee was a spectacle all on its own. She lacked the strength necessary to lift her cup or to tear open the packets of creamer and Splenda but would always refuse my assistance. It was better off that way, having her do things for herself; it was what we were to encourage them to do anyway.

I knocked on the bathroom door as I had been doing on my rounds since she had jumped into the shower. “Hey Lizzy is everything ok in there?” No answer.  I knocked again and repeated my question, only louder this time, “Everything ok in there Lizzy?” Again no answer.

I noticed a group of the other residents had formed at the door, all peering in trying to figure out why Elizabeth wasn’t answering me. I recalled I had a set of keys to the bathroom door and decided I should open it. Georgina was already standing next to me by this point having heard me call out to Elizabeth.

“Good thing you came Georgina, I’m going to open the door but given that I’m a male staff member I really shouldn’t be going in there. Would you mind going in with me?”
“You don’t need to ask, open the god damn door and make sure Elizabeth is fine!”

I unlocked the door and pushed it open. I can’t say I was prepared for what I saw, I really wasn’t expecting to have an incident so early on in my time here. There in the shower was Elizabeth, laying on the shower floor unconscious with the shower curtain bundled up beside her. She had obviously attempted to grab onto it and failed. Her tiny naked body was curled up in an awkward position causing her ribs to stick out even more than normal as the water continued to cascade down on her. I felt the adrenaline course through my veins as I leapt beside her checking for any wounds that may have been caused with the fall, the sour smell of vomit enveloped me. She had obviously been purging and must have fainted in the middle of the act. I firmly shook Elizabeth calling out to her with no success. I laid her back down and shut off the water, the last thing I wanted was for her to drown on my watch. I grabbed for my walkie-talkie and called out for assistance. Within seconds other members of the staff arrived. I stepped back and rallied up the on looking patients, taking them back into the day room.

I heard a commotion coming from Elizabeth’s room so I rushed over. Another staff member had Georgina in his arms, holding her back as she fought and attempted to claw her way back to Elizabeth’s side.

“Have a nurse get an injection ready, this bitch won’t listen” he yelled at me.

“Georgina! Stop that! If you want us to help her, you need to give us some room” I yelled out. “There’s no sense in making a scene, you’re just going to get medicated and that’s going to be less people helping Lizzy!”

Georgina turned towards me and I noticed her body relax. “You can let her go now, I’ll take care of her.” I took Georgina by the hand and walked her to her room.

“What’s wrong with her” she muttered through tears.

“Everything’s going to be ok Georgina. Just calm down.”

I didn’t believe what I was saying, but I had to try to calm her less they put her down with an injection.

I returned my gaze back to the other room, Lizzy was lying on the floor surrounded by the staff that had begun to perform CPR on her. Not a good sign. Moments later an ambulance had arrived to take Lizzy to the emergency room. It was sad seeing her fragile body be wheeled out of her room, oxygen masked covering her face.

It all ended just as quickly as it had started as the remaining patients and I were left in the unit in silence. Everybody was in a state of shock, me most of all. I wished somebody would come and explain it all to me, I hated not knowing what was happening. Would she be ok? Would she be coming back? Only time would tell.

“Sugar, I need a fucking cigarette” Georgina stated as only Georgina could.

“You and me both baby” I muttered back.

I went to the cabinet where they kept the patients cigarettes locked up and proceeded to hand them out, one cigarette per patient.

“Alright, everybody line up.”

We exited the unit in a single file and went to smoke our anxieties away.

Pieces of April

My phone startled me awake, tearing me away from a perfect world that could only exist in dreams. I jumped out of bed, stumbling through darkness and attempted to find my cell phone amongst the scattered contents of my pockets that I dumped onto the dresser the night before. I realized it was my mother calling and my body went numb. It’s THE phone call, I thought to myself.  That moment you have been dreading is here, your grandmother is dying.

I managed to answer the phone despite of all the thoughts ricocheting in my skull and sure enough my mother manages to tell me through tears that my grandmother is dying and I should go over immediately if I wished to say my goodbyes. I stood there frozen in disbelief.  This couldn’t be happening, I must still be asleep and all of this is just another terrible nightmare plaguing my dreams. I felt that awful void that only news like this could bring, that empty feeling as you realize things will never again be the same. She’s dying… and there wasn’t anything I could do, my prayers had all been in vain.

I couldn’t think straight as I scrambled around the room grabbing my shoes and a jacket, my vision blurred by my tears.  Where the fuck did I leave my keys? I have to get to her side, I have to be there with her, I will never forgive myself if I don’t make it on time. WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY KEYS?!  I finally found them in a pair of jeans lying crumpled in a corner of the room and I shot out of the house and dove into my car. I pulled out of the drive way and onto the street not checking for traffic. I was relieved the streets were empty with the exception of one or two vehicles and luckily it was the same case at the international bridge. I crossed back into the states in a matter of minutes.

I don’t recall the drive from the bridge to my grandmother’s home. I was lost in thought and it was one of those instances when the car could have quite possibly driven itself. I ran into the house and found my grandmother lying in bed with my mother, sister, and a couple of my aunts sitting beside her.  I walked over to the edge of the bed and took my grandmother’s hand in my own, soft like always. I recalled the many times these loving hands had caressed me as a child, cured my cuts and scrapes, and prepared me hot meals. This couldn’t be my grandmother. My grandmother was a woman of great strength, lively, always smiling and brightening up any room with her presence. Where was the woman I had known all my life? This was but a whisper of that glorious woman. She looked so fragile lying there with her eyes closed, almost unrecognizable with the oxygen mask covering her face.

“Grandma, it’s Mason. I’m here with you.” She took a deep breath acknowledging I was there next to her. I kissed her on the forehead and stood there, dazed, nothing but silence with the exception of the lethargic hissing as oxygen from multiple tanks was pumped for my grandmother.

I made my way over to my mother and took her in a tight embrace. I half expected her to be a wreck, but the blank look on her face told me she was still in shock. I couldn’t blame her, after all I felt the same. It was all surreal, I half expected to see my grandmother get out of bed and take out paper and tobacco from her drawer and roll herself a cigarette. But no such thing was happening, no miracle was to take place on that forlorn night.

I tried to hold back my tears for my mother’s sake. I had to be strong in anticipation of that moment when I knew she wouldn’t be able to do it alone. For that moment when her heart would be broken. For that moment when she would become an orphan child. To think as I was growing up my mother had to be the one to be strong for all of us, fighting our battles, righting our wrongs, and now the tables have turned. Now it is I who has to be her rock, it is I that will need to wipe her tears and comfort her.

“It’s for the best” my aunt Olga stated with a calmness from her side of the bed. “She will finally get to rest.”

I knew what she said was true, but I couldn’t help but want to say otherwise. Forgive me God for being greedy, but I am not ready for you to take her back. I still need her. There is so much more I can learn from her, so much more laughter to be shared with her, so much more… please!

At that moment my grandmother stirred, opening her eyes, beautiful sky blue eyes. She gazed at each one of us, and then took one deep final breath before settling back into stillness. It had happened, my grandmother was no longer with us. My aunt shot up from her seat to check her, I surveyed her face for any sign of hope, but her tearful  eyes said it all. It came at that moment, everything I had been holding back, rushing out at once like water bursting through a damn. The hurt was so immense I could literally feel pain in my body, shooting into every nerve of my being. It was a horrible moment as I was drowned in the cries of pain emitting from those around me. I swallowed my feelings and took my mother and sister into my arms, it took everything I had to fight back my emotions. I had to, for them. My grandmother layed there, her eyes still fixed on the ceiling. Void of all life, an empty shell left behind.

My aunt leaned over her and closed her eyes and kissed her on the cheek before leaving the room to make the many calls to relatives to advise them of the despondent news. I couldn’t  take another minute of it, I had to step outside. I went onto the front porch and let myself sink onto the floor. I lit a cigarette and found myself wondering if she was still amongst us in spirit. Was she here watching those she left behind?

Sitting there on the floor staring at nothing in particular, I exhaled a cloud of smoke, and whispered out to the shadows “I love you grandma Dudsy, may you rest in peace.”

Midight Demons

Midnight. Why is it these thoughts always come to plague me at midnight? For the last hour or so  I’ve been staring at the ceiling fan spinning like a ballerina on crack, threatening to break off from whatever it is that holds it in place. Very much like my life at this moment, barely holding on by the last screws, waiting for another disappointment to come along and finish off with it. What once was a room I looked forward to now seems empty and lugubrious.  Suddenly I can see every defect on the walls, every crack, every stain, and every imperfection. The grey walls seem to echo the sad thoughts that take up residence within my skull, and even the reflections in the mirror seem to stare back at me in disapproval. I find myself at another dead end. It was a brewing for some time now, but it finally boiled over. I can’t stand it anymore.

Unemployment has a way of kicking your ass like that, ask anybody. I’ve been without a job for about two months now and I am finally feeling the strain.  I’ve been submitting applications left and right to no avail. The sad thing is I attended school last year for training in the Medical field and that has proven to be a tree that bears no fruit. Money down the drain.   What I was slowly molding into a comfortable existence is now falling apart quicker than I care to admit. My cell phone service has been interrupted, I don’t drive to conserve the little gas I have left in the car, and I’ve had to resolve to ask for money to buy my cigarettes. That last one is how I truly know I’m in a shit hole, not being able to support my own vices. Pathetic. But life goes on as miserable as it may be.

You would think I would have it easier given I have a man to fall back on. Don’t get me wrong, he helps in any way he can, and I’m sure if it weren’t for him I would truly be lost. But the thing is he doesn’t understand my forlorn state of mind. He feels I’m in my current situation due to a lack of trying, and that’s what hurts me the most. Sometimes I feel as if I have nobody to turn to and that is why in turn I am reaching out to you, any reader who has the misfortune to come across my blog.

So throw me a pity party! I know whining about my problems never got me anywhere, but at this point that is all I can do. Get it off my chest in the hopes that tomorrow will be different. That tomorrow will be the day I get a call for a job. That tomorrow I won’t have to smoke charity cigarettes. Wishful thinking. But for now I’ll just listen to the metallic groans of the wobbly ceiling fan I mentioned before, the never ending barking of the mutts on the street, and the Rancheras blasting from the house next door. The neighbors have had one too many tonight… again. Here’s hoping that I will eventually dose off and get some sleep which is the only time my mind is at ease.

 

Huatussi, Sinaloa

I heard someone shuffling around in the kitchen and decided to get up even though it was only 4:30 in the morning. I hadn’t gotten much sleep that night given that the weather was pretty humid and still I had wrapped myself in a blanket. Ever since I can remember I’ve never been able to fall asleep unless I was covered, and in this case it was the same. So the last few hours had become a battle with the entangling sheets and night long sweats. I couldn’t wait to get in the shower and wash away my troubled sleep. His parents had let us take up residence in the guest bedroom which housed two twin sized beds and a dresser we could use for our things. I was stoked we were to have our own room during our visit, but his mother was more cunning than she let on and made sure we would not be in the same bed. I suppose it was best, the last thing I needed was to be caught in the middle of the night with my shorts around my ankles and with their son pounding away from behind. That definitely would be something difficult to explain. I stepped out of the room and found his mother in the kitchen preparing breakfast. By the looks of it she was making huevos con chorizo and frijoles, with flour tortillas of course.

“Buenos días” I yawned.

“Buenos días, Miguel. You hungry? Want me to whip you up some breakfast?”

“I’m not really that hungry yet, thank you. But I would die for a cup of coffee. Do you have any ma’am?”

She motioned for me to take a seat in one of the white metal stools she had up against the bar that divided the kitchen from the dining room. She was quick in pulling out the coffee, sugar, and a mug from one of the many cupboards that lined the entire kitchen. She set the items before me and filled the “World’s Best Mother” mug with boiling water from a red kettle I hadn’t seen on the stove.

“Here you go, milk’s in the fridge, help yourself” she stated as she returned back to the pans on the stove.

Instant coffee is not real coffee as far as I’m concerned, but beggars can’t be choosers so I hastily prepared my coffee and watched his mother slaving away at the stove while I drank it.

“You always up this early?” I asked as I felt the hot coffee make its way into my body, waking any nerves that were still in deep slumber.

“I’m afraid so, my husband likes to go for a walk before the sun is out. So I make him his breakfast while he’s out so that he has something to eat when he gets back.”

Now that was devotion. You wouldn’t find me cooking breakfast at this time, no matter who asked me to. That’s what McDonalds is for after all, they like to see you smile, as for me I like to see you leave me the fuck alone while I sleep.

Three cups of coffee later and after her husband and Helio had joined us, we found ourselves discussing that day’s agenda. We had no solid plans, I just knew I wanted to get to know more of the area. As it would turn out, his mother wanted to go visit a friend of the family in the neighboring town of Huatussi. Helio explained to me it was a waterfront town where the main trade was fishing and supplying fresh seafood for the area. Sounded interesting enough, then again anything to get out of the house sounded interesting enough to me.

We all took turns jumping into the shower after breakfast and I found myself homesick all of a sudden. Showering alone was no fun at all. But like I mentioned before, it was just the way things had to be, at least for now. Once we were all ready we piled into our car and started the drive out to Huatussi. I was somewhat bored since the stereo was off given on account that his mother would much rather talk the whole way there. And I found myself nodding in agreement and giving my “Oh, that’s so interesting” bullshit replies to her while I puffed on my cigarettes.  

Soon enough I saw a sign stating we were arriving in Huatussi. The town was build on a mountainside and given that, we would not be able to drive the car all the way to the friend’s home. We parked the vehicle at the base of the mountain next to a crumbling church which appeared to have been yellow in color at some point, but now it was caked in salt from the sea and pigeon shit. We started our ascension on one of the many paths that wound their way up the mountain leading to the various homes. I use the word path because that is exactly what it was, a dirt path, more like an alley to be honest, littered in lose stones and trash that hitched a ride on the winds.

The homes all appeared to have sprung out of the ground one day to another much like unattended weeds as there was no particular order to them. They zig -zagged from side to side as did the alleys we walked through. I felt as we were walking through some sad, pathetic apartment complex as the homes were all but four feet apart from one another. They all however were connected to each other, like a twisted network by the multitude of wire lines with moist laundry still hanging from them. We must have decided to visit on laundry day since I noticed many a women outside on their patios wringing clothes on stones, beating the dirt right out of them. Most homes had their doors and windows wide open, to let in the breeze I’m assuming. But I was baffled as to why anybody would want THIS breeze; it was hot and stank of fish. But I suppose one becomes accustomed to the stench after living here for so long. As for me, I found the rancid odor appalling. But it seemed quite ordinary to the number of dirty, little children with tangled hair running around playing a game of Las Escondidas.

I could begin to feel the strain in my calves as we continued on our way uphill. I found myself wondering if the friend happened to live on the very peak of the mountain, knowing my luck they most likely did. Along the way we passed a tiny shop that had chips and sodas displayed for sale and a sign that let people walking by know they sold other things like Chilendrinas, Elotes, and Raspas.

"We'll come back in a bit" Helio whispered to me noticing I was eyeing the store. "They sell some Chicharrones with Chamoy that will make you orgasm!"

"You don't say? I'm overdue for an orgasm" I laughed in response while poking him in the ribs.

Finally his mother turned right on one of the intersecting paths and started climbing some steps. We had reached the friend's home, close to the top of the mountain I might add. The home was small in size like were many of it's neighbors. It was made up of giant cinder blocks painted a hot pink with lime green curtains blowing in the putrid air. Who picks out the color schemes down here I laughed internally. We were greeted at the door by an older woman named Esperanza, she was short and withered, time had not been kind to her. Her copper skin appeared to be stretched tightly over her fragile bones. She was dressed in a navy blue skirt with a white belt tied around her tiny waist and a blouse of the same white. Her auburn hair, tied up in a bun, was accented by many silver hairs that shone in the sun. But her eyes, I don't think I had seen kinder eyes before. A mesmerizing steel blue, and you could tell by them she indeed had seen plenty in her lifetime.

She greeted us all with a warm smile and invited us into her home. The front door led into a minuscule living room crowded by two green sofas and a black center table. You had to walk sideways just to squeeze through into the next room. The kitchen however was gigantic in size and I was astonished at how a room of this proportion could possibly fit in such a tiny home. Never the less, there we stood, next to a gigantic wooden table that sat twelve. The counter tops and counters were set against the back wall with a chrome stove and fridge. I could smell that Esperanza was preparing some sort of seafood in a large pot that lay on the stove.

"Do you like Ceviche? It will be ready soon" she asked me, noticing I was sniffing the air.

"Absolutely!" I lied.

Just then his mother interjected, "Helio, didn't you mention Miguel has never been to the ocean? Why don't you take him down to the docks and see what he thinks of it?"

It was true, I had never had the opportunity to visit the ocean before and I was quite excited at the chance to do so now. I turned towards Helio and I'm more than sure that my eyes said it all as he nodded in agreement.

"We're going to stop at the store first, is there anything I can get you?" I asked his mother and her friend.

"We're fine young man" Esperanza replied. "You go on down and see the ocean, it is quite beautiful this time of year."

Helio and I made our way back out of the crowded home and headed straight for the shop we had passed moments ago. The shop was dark and stuffy and we were attended by a tall, thick man dressed in blue jeans and a green, checkered shirt. He wore a brown baseball cap with the Nike logo on it that that looked two sizes too small for his swollen head. But he wore a smile that made you feel welcomed and so we proceeded to order two bags of Chicharrones with Chamoy. We devoured the treat on our way back down from the mountain. Helio wasn't lying, they were delicious! Apparently they make about 30 different kinds of Chamoy in these parts opposed to just the one kind back home.

We found ourselves at the ocean front soon enough, it was a long walk as I found out that Huatussi was a peninsula and the beach wrapped all around it. The ground was moist from the occasional wave that washed up and I found myself somewhat struggling as my feet would sink into the ground. I soon found myself fighting of the hundreds of gnats that flew around in the air, all determined to assault my face. One of the draw backs from living this close to water I suppose. But, I didn't care really, I was too busy enjoying it all. Suddenly, I didn't notice the stench of fish in the air, or just how much poverty surrounded me. For at that moment, Huatussi seemed the most beautiful place on Earth!

The water edge was lined with numerous small speed boats, all tied to wooden poles, some of which were being prepared for a ride out into the deeper waters by the locals. Out in the waters I saw more of these speed boats bobbing as the occupants hauled giant nets filled with that day's catch onto it. The sky was filled with seagulls and sandpipers soaring, and all around me men in black, rubber fishing boots were hauling bags full of shrimp. Off in the distance I could make out some mountains, deep in the water. Helio told me it was a small island which no one had set up residence on. It was still in all it's natural state, overgrown with trees and shrubs. He also mentioned that during the summer, the locals all take boats out to the island and spends days doing nothing but drinking and dancing to music next to raging bonfires. Pity we hadn't come in the summer, I would have rather enjoyed the primitive festivities. The sounds of the waves crashing onto the shore were calming and even the cries of the birds over us seemed a soothing melody.

"I could definitely see myself living here" I stated to Helio.

"Are you crazy, the fucking mosquitoes would eat us alive!"

"Oh, fuck the mosquitoes! This is what it's all about. Look around you, these people are happy. And why shouldn't they be, with this amazing view!"

"Your first day at the ocean and already you're thinking of moving here?"

"It wouldn't be a bad thing, that's for sure and besides how much could it cost to rent one of these tiny cinder block homes?" I laughed.

We continued on our walk and eventually came upon a dock. I ran out on it and sat on the edge looking out into the churning waters much like you would expect somebody in a movie to do.  I would have taken off my shoes and stuck my feet in the water if it had been higher. I took out my cigarettes and lit one.

"What are you doing?" Helio inquired.

"Unlike you, this is my first time here. I'm going to enjoy every last minute of it."

Back on the beach a midget of a man rode a bicycle with an ice chest attached to the front.

"Cerveza fria, cerveza fria" I heard him calling out.

"Is he selling beer?" I asked Helio.

"Why do you act so surprised? This is Mexico after all" was his reply.

I shot up and ran after the man, calling him to stop. Once I caught up to him I proceeded to order a six pack of Tecates that set me back 50 pesos. How convenient I thought to myself. I took the six pack and made my way back to the dock. I handed one to Helio and took one for myself before taking a seat once again.

"We best hurry, Esperanza was making Ceviche and fish fillets for us to eat" Helio stated to me while taking a swig from his beer.

"Oh, she can wait. Who knows when I'll ever have another chance to enjoy a beer and a cigarette on the beach again."

Helio sat down besides me and took my cigarette from my lips. He took a deep puff and handed it back to me. Everything was perfect in that moment. I didn't have a care in the world. I had everything I could possibly ask for just then, a man by my side, a cold beer in my hand, and that amazing view.

La Trinidad

I was startled out of my sleep as the car hit a bump on the road. I’m not sure when I dosed off exactly, but according to Helio I had been out for the last hour or so. I wiped the sleep away from my eyes and peered out the window. I realized we were in another town as I could make out buildings on the side of the road, dark blurs that sprung out from the ground. Upon asking, I learned we finally reached our destination of La Trinidad, Sinaloa. It was early the next morning, Christmas morning, during the grey hour that belongs neither to night or day, and the town was still hidden in shadows since the sun hadn’t risen yet. Helio found the dirt path that led to his parents’ home from memory as I found myself anxious to get out of the vehicle and off the never ending road.  The house was a small building laying on the corner of the street, made of bricks painted a bright Persian blue with a white iron gate surrounding the entire property. Within the gates a garden fabricated of an assortment of fruit trees and bushes that bore flowers of all colors imaginable flourished in all its savage glory. We parked in the driveway and were greeted by his mother, Ofelia. A short, dark skinned woman with Indian characteristics. Her hair was cut short, most likely to avoid having to spend hours trying to tame it as it went wild in the humidity that was common in La Trinidad. She was still dressed in a green nightgown covered in tiny pink flowers and it was evident that she hadn’t gotten much sleep, most likely due to the fact that we hadn’t arrived sooner, her face looked abnormally weary and bland since she wore no makeup. She took Helio in her arms in a tight embrace, kissing him on his forehead obviously relieved her son had made the trip safely. 

After greeting me, she ushered us into her home and directly into her kitchen where she was quick to serve us up a plate crammed full with tamales from the night before, and two cups of very much needed coffee.  I scanned my surroundings while devouring the delectable meal his mother had served us. We were in a large room that included the kitchen, dining room, and living room all with the same blue cement floor, apparently these people were fond of the color blue. The walls were painted an off white color with a variety of framed painting of saints hanging from rusted nails. The kitchen was the first room I surveyed, a small beige stove stood in the corner with a large metal pot resting on it which made the stove look all the more miniscule. Next to that there was a white metal table where the dish rack and black microwave were kept, and hiding behind the open door, stood the refrigerator covered in a variety of magnets. The entire kitchen was wrapped in light brown cupboards and there was only one window, by the sink, dressed in Pepto-Bismol pink curtains. The living room was an array of mismatch furniture including two bulging, brown couches lumpy and deformed from overuse, a wooden center table with a book tucked under one of its legs and a warped shelf where the ancient television set complete with bunny ear antennae rested. In the far corner stood a shriveling Christmas tree that I'm sure had seen better days, veiled in faded ornaments and twinkling multi-colored lights. I was snapped out of my critique of the home by Ofelia’s voice just then.

“How do you like our Rancho?” she asked in her low monotone voice.

“Oh, it’s quite beautiful, ma’am” I lied.

What else was I supposed to say? I was after all staying in her home which she opened to me, her son’s “good friend “. Don’t get me wrong, I had seen much worse than this, but I couldn’t help myself in my critique of the home. Let’s just say their home was humble for lack of a better word. But at least this way we would avoid having to pay for a hotel and after all they had internet so I wouldn’t be dying of boredom.

Upon finishing our meal, we unloaded the car and then the three of us took a seat in the living room and discussed the details of our trip, details that you, the reader, already know. Ofelia was going through the gifts we had brought them from Juarez glorifying anything that her favorite son had picked out just for her when we were startled by a loud explosion coming from outside. The lights all went out and we were left sitting in darkness.  The first thing to cross my mind was gun shots but as it turned out, it was nothing so dramatic, just a blown up transformer on a light pole outside.

“Looks like a sign I should start getting ready for church” his mother laughed. “Would you mind giving me a ride once I’m ready?”

Of course, we agreed to take her to mass, how could we say no? Once his mother had made herself decent enough for mass, we all jumped into the car and made our way over to La Iglesia De La Santisima Trinidad which stood in the middle of the tiny pueblo. Sitting in the backseat, since mother must go in the front, I observed the scenery.  The homes, all a different hue from the vast spectrum of colors, were build in front of the dirt road, the same dirt road that was rampant with stray dogs and groups of locals walking around only stopping at the corner to share that day’s juicy gossip. I noticed that the shops were already opening for business even though it was too early and Christmas morning none the less, yet there they were, lifting the heavy metal sheets that were used to secure the shops windows at night. It appeared each home came complete with an older woman to sweep the patio with brooms made of branches and to water their share of the dirt road mentioned above.  The air was filled with the sound of Roosters singing their daily melody to the sun up above and around each corner my eyes were assaulted with greenery as Mother Nature reigned here with her monstrous trees towering everywhere. La Trinidad was one of those towns where everybody knew everybody and it was evident as people on the streets would greet us as we passed, even me, an outsider.  Yes, we found ourselves in a tiny Mexican town where people would rather walk than drive, which wasn’t surprising since it would seem there were far more horses to ride than there were automobiles. The park around the corner was filled with barefooted children, all different shades of copper, climbing the rusted bars of the playground like tiny monkeys would a tree. And the market was filled with Las Comadres out to buy produce and meats for that evening’s meal and of course to complain about how lazy their husbands back home were. There was no doubt in my mind that this town was forgotten by time.

We dropped off his mother at the local church, a small adobe chapel with wooden doors covered in carvings of angels slaying demons, and were soon on our way to explore the town. When I say explore I’m referring to myself as Helio grew up here, so what I really meant to say is we were soon on our way so that Helio could give me the grand tour of the place.  In all honesty there wasn’t much to see in this forgotten corner of the world, it was after all just a simple town. But Helio assured me he would take me to the places worth visiting in the days to come, including the beach that was less than half an hour away. But none the less, I enjoyed the drive, and was amused as Helio showed me the schools he had gone to and the different places he liked to get in trouble at. It was great finally getting an image to apply to the many stories he had shared with me before, and I found myself recalling these stories, asking him if that was the ditch where he lost his virginity, or if that was the store where they found the butcher who suffered a heart attack, dead in the freezer. Things here were peaceful and the climate was amazing and it was a nice change from the bustling streets back in Juarez littered in trash and countless beggars who attacked you for whatever change you had in your pocket.

I was reminded by the sharp jabs in my stomach that lunchtime had come around and we started discussing what to grab to eat. Helio mentioned a stand in the middle of town that sold some delicious shrimp cocktails. I was surprised he even thought of seafood since the thought of it made me sick. But he mentioned he had been craving them for the longest now given that they didn’t make them the same back home so I decided to go along with the idea. I figured, what the hell, you’re in Sinaloa try something different.  We found ourselves at the stand sooner than later and we exited the car to go order some of these, according to Helio, delicious cocktails. The stand was called Mariscocos La Mora and was located on the principal street that cut through La Trinidad, the only paved road which with only two lanes, one for going and one for coming.  The stand was built in the front yard of the owner’s home and was made up of white, rusted sheets of metal surrounding a blue tiled countertop complete with a working sink. The floor surrounding the stand was cluttered with coconuts, which Helio told me grew in abundance in these parts. Apparently, the cocktails were served in hollowed coconut shells.  The establishment was surrounded by locals all waiting anxiously for their turn to order and a man of about thirty with dark, oily skin and dressed like he had stepped out of a old western movie was busy hacking away at the coconuts he picked up right off of the floor.

“You sure you want to try these?” Helio questioned me.

“What do I got to lose?” I replied. “Anyways, if I don’t like them you can just eat mine and I’ll find something else to eat.”

We proceeded to order two Mariscocos and waited patiently as the man prepared them. I was viewing in awe as the man hacked open the coconuts with a giant machete, half expecting him to lose some fingers at any moment. But he had been doing this for some time now and was an expert with the blade, no fingers in our shrimp cocktails today. Just then, I heard a man screaming down the street and turned to find a man walking in our direction yelling obscenities at nobody in particular. I could tell by the way he walked, slumped over and stumbling with one arm twisted at his side, that he was obviously mentally challenged. He wore some dirty, baggy jeans and a purple cotton t-shirt. He too was dark complected as was the norm in these parts, and had a head full of mangy, pitch black hair. Even from this distance I could see that the man was missing various teeth and whatever teeth he did possess were stained yellow and covered in decay. The owner must have seen the expression on my face because he assured me that the man was harmless and would probably just pass us by. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case, because as soon as he reached us he started babbling something I couldn’t make out, some crazy talk only he could decipher. I tried to be polite and smiled at him but this only further provoked him as he reached out with his good arm and grabbed me by my right arm. I was startled to say the least, and found myself panicking as I couldn’t tear myself away from his deadly grasp. I peered into his face, slim and birdlike with his long pointed nose and I could smell his foul breath as he proceeded to scream at me, spitting with every word.  

“Jose! Let him go!” the owner of the stand yelled at my attacker. But he either couldn’t hear him or didn’t care much for his words.  I grabbed his arm and finally managed to pull free from him jumping back and away from him but to my horror, he followed me!

“Give him some change, that’s probably what he wants” the owner of the stand called out to me. Without hesitation I reached into my pocket and pulled out whatever coins I had in there. I handed them over to him and much to my surprise he calmed down. He pocketed what I gave him and then just continued on his way.

“What the fuck was that all about” I exclaimed, never once removing my sight from the crazy incase he decided to come back.

“That was Jose, the local nut bag”

“He shouldn’t be let out on his own. That shit was fucked up! I just about shit my god damn pants!”

The three of us laughed as I realized that some locals had been viewing the whole thing.  Yet nobody had lifted a finger to do anything about it.

“My first day here and I almost lost my fucken arm over some change.” I said turning back towards Helio.

He however was laughing, at me I might add.

“What’s so god damn funny?”

“You should have seen your face!”

“Well, I’d like to see how you would have reacted. And thanks for not doing anything asshole!”

“Well, that’s over now. Now let’s eat these shrimp cocktails, you’re gonna love them!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I realized I had queened out, pretty much like you might expect one of “us” to react to a spider.  I forgot about the ordeal soon enough as we were handed our shrimp cocktails and we took a seat at a nearby table.

“These so better be worth it punk, after what just happened.” I shot at Helio.

I dug into the coconut and was amazed at how large the shrimp were.  Helio mentioned they catch them fresh here and that’s why they were so good, no preservatives added to them like the shrimp we have back home.  I finished every last bit of it much to Helio’s amazement, and we poured back into the car.

“What do you want to do now?” Helio asked.

“I need a fucken beer. I’m still a bit worked up from earlier”

“Yes sir! One beer coming right up”

The car rattled to a start and we drove off in search of a store where we could get some beer.