Nothing is better in the world - the world - than sitting in an open air cafe on a brisk morning sipping coffee and enjoying a smoke and having an old friend join you. Saul - my bestest rentboy - staggered over to my table at Cafe Norteno all bleary eyed and dangerous and we shot the shit, you know what I mean? I have had the pleasure of his acquaintance for a good four years now and he is quite the hottie in bed.
I mention I haven't seen him in a while and that was on the account of him being in jail - I hear the Tijuana jail can be downright nasty. So - after a few cups of joe and a plate of eggs and beans - Saul and I decided to cruise around centro, I needed to go shopping for some articles for my new trap.
I was approached by two Mexican boys and asked if I wanted to make $800 dollars, suspicious I asked why - 'All you hafta do is drive across the border.' Nah - a coyote I ain't.
Saul says he needs some mota - and why not, I feel like getting a little high myself. We strut down into the Old Mercado past the come hither hookers and cop a bag of weed from some Azteca tattooed kid and repair back to my flat. Saul is one hella roller - fat he makes 'em. We sit on my couch listening to reggeaton and toking some blunt - it was tastey.
Went to bed with Saul - was a treat - man, he screws like a muthuh fuckin' pimp! Boy really knows how to work that shit, you dig?
Twice 'round. Half a bottle of Fundador. Reefer by candle light. Watch the news - Anna Nichole Smith overdosed. Saul asked who she and my reply - 'She's dead.'