American Spirit

Was feeling it this Sunday morning, so I got dressed and went OUT. Well, to be fair, it wasn't morning - it was more mid-afternoon. Originally, I was taking a stroll over to that notorious porno theater Eva's for a romp of evil, yet as I stomped past Sonny's Bar, I opted for a beer, instead.
Sonny's Bar, for those of you out of the loop, is a small, hole-in-the-wall dive located two blocks from my digs, ya dig? Spitting distance from a homeless shelter and a halfway house, the tiny, adobe structure caters to a skanky assortment of alkies, hobo's, excons, and wanna-be gangsters. As a fact, what cinched the decision was as I strolled past the fence that enclosed the patio, I noticed three interesting types lounging under the shabby table umbrella baking in the mid-afternoon heat. The three were sleeping and beerless - three young Latino-types I had seen before running through the streets like Wild Boys.
So, I plopped on a stool inside of the bar and as my eyes adjusted to the murky light, the joint was quite full of the previous mentioned clientele. I met up with an old friend from the Mish days named Clint and we shot the shit before he had a meet with some skanky whore elsewhere. Left alone, I ordered another beer and made my way out to the patio.

Patio is probably to good a word - actually, a large, dirt lot speckled with rickety, decaying chairs and a dusty table that seemed to collapse if you leaned against it.(It actually did tip over eventually) As I said, I sat with the three who were there, striking up casual conversation with one that I kinda knew from the bar circuit. The other two was a young Mexican gangster from Chihuahua City, Chihuahua named Pablo and the other a very cute Dominican named Salvador. They both went on about relocating to New York City in a few days time to work for Salvador's father as mechanics. We three talked and joked - Salvador sizing me up (Thought I was a cop) as Pablo dozed on and off in the shade of the bent umbrella. Though the three had no booze, they all were pretty sloshed, so I invited to buy them a round of beer.

My acquaintance - whose name I cannot recall - stated he, they, were hungry. I agreed to walk around the corner to buy some instant soups in lieu of retrieving more cash for beer.

Unfortunately, when I returned, Mom - that ancient hag who runs the bar - caught the three sniffing coke out on the patio and was in process of tossing the three out. But, I talked the cock-blocking old cunt out of it when I ordered beers for them. (They obviously were just lounging around the patio and not buying anything)

We sat at the table with another friend named Ruben - a self-proclaimed Azteca gangster and mooch to the bone - and had actually a good time drinking, joking, and singing to the cholo-beloved oldies warbling from the jukebox. The sexual innuendo between Salvador and I was actually quite pat. I saw in his bloodshot eyes that he knew what the score was, even though the time with his friends were raucous roaring about all the pussy they're going to get once in New York.

A lot of beers later and Salvador followed me outside for a smoke break. He began - in that timid macho way I so adore - making coy advances to my person. When he casually whipped his dork out and took a drunken piss onto the curb, me making comments about his manhood didn't help, either.

"You live near here, guero?" He slurs, nearly tumbling into the street.

I explain I did, just two blocks.

"I wanna stay the night with you." He spat all droopy eyed and fucked up.

I asked him to wait there as I strode to the bathroom to take a much needed piss. As I stood there watching my yellow stream of urine splatter against the thick feces that packed the toilet, I thought, why not? The dude's hot and could be some good kicks.

Saying adios, Salvador and I darted over to my place laughing and stumbling under that baneful moon. Once home, he states he's hungry and I know my cupboards are bare, so I ordered a pizza as he took a hot shower.

We sat in our boxers devouring that pizza like ravaged beasts, drinking tall boys and laughing at Don't Look In The Basement that aired on the Elvira Show. Lights out and in drunken fits of lunging, fondling and sucking, Salvador and I screwed until we passed out, entwined like jungle serpents. Damn, that boy can snore.

Next morning, I make pancakes and coffee as he shyly lounges in rumpled sheets and blankets. We eat, his cell phone goes off and he states he has to split on account of a meet with his ruca. Shaking hands, he jets and I just go on doing what I do...