My stint south of the border has taught me the fact that nothing is free. Nothing. Not even friendship. Everyone has a price or more correctly, “I don’t care what or how much you have; at least give me something.” Gets to be a bore and a strain on the old ego.
One morning, I walked to Café Central stopping at the Plaza in front of the Cathedral for a smoke and people watch. I was about to walk to Café Central for breakfast, when my friend Javier approached me. We chitchatted about things; work, money, going out, when I invited him for breakfast. After a good meal of juevos rancheros and a taza de café, we walked over to my pad and took no time in getting down and dirty. Several positions later, Javier and I took an afternoon siesta. I mean, a good morning of humping can take the wind outta ya, know what I mean? Waking up around noon, we showered and said our good-byes. Not before Javier hit me up for some dough. All I had on me was sixty pesos and I was chagrined when Javier asked for more.
“You don’t have cien?”
I just escorted him to the door, I mean really.
Later, I was standing out front of the Cathedral enjoying the sun and a fresca. A performance artist dressed as a cowboy and covered in silver paint was doing the old robot routine, drawing quite a crowd; a young, handsome guy stands next to me and starts a conversation on the matter. I glance him over, not bad. He then goes into a yarn about looking for his wife who is possibly in the Plaza with her new boyfriend. I thought this angle was quite droll and laughed it off. Money was brought up, on his part. How broke he was from her. I told him that was too bad and with that he gone into the Cathedral for the Mass that had just begun.
Moments later, said hottie comes out of the church and goes on how sad he was over his ailing mother. How he needed fifty dollars for her medicine. I asked where he worked and he explained the Old Market, which was always crawling with old American tourist and I pointed out his tips must be very good. That shut him up for a bit. Then he mumbled something about going to the International Border to get some money for his friend. I wished him luck.
At this moment, an old friend approached and said hola, it was Oscar. Oscar shook hands and entered the church for Mass. The other guy, who I finally got his name as Antonio, started up on how he needed to get his son some new clothes. I thought, C’mon! If you need some cash, come out with it and cut the corny stories of woe!
Seeing this was going nowhere, Antonio asked what I was doing later that night. I said I would be drinking with some friends.
“Where?”
“Oh, I don’t know the name of the bar…I just know how to get there.”
He smiled and said, “It’s a gay bar, right?”
I looked at him with mock shock, “What? Gay bar? No…it’s…okay, yeah; it’s a fucking queer joint. You have good eyes – though I pegged you too when you started talking to me.”
“I’m not queer, dude.” He said.
Of course - the old I’ll blow you, I’ll fuck you, but I won’t kiss you because I’m not queer line. With that he mumbled something about meeting me that night at 8:00 o’clock to go with my friends and me. I said sure and Antonio took off for the International Border for his rendezvous with the fifty-dollar friend.
I sat on the Cathedral steps smoking a Lucky and watching the eye candy pass and that’s when Oscar approached me.
“Is everything okay between you and God?” I joked.
“I don’t have a problem with God. I think God has a problem with me.” Oscar smiled. “Let’s go to your house…did you get any new porn movies?”
I laughed, “Damn, boy! You just came outta church and you wanna watch porn?” Pause. “Let’s go.”
“Vamanos.” Oscar agreed.
At my pad, as the porn played, I gave Oscar some head. Oscar is great eye candy and love those abs - cock was so hard a cat couldn’t scratch it. After that, I was hit up for one hundred pesos. Sigh, again, can’t we have sex just because it’s fun and not cheapen it into a financial negotiation? I mean, Oscar has a good job with a roof repair company, why does he need money? Paid the little fucker and separated at the front door. Him mentioning going to his house.
Back in front of the Cathedral, the sun was sinking over the dusty mountains and I sat waiting for my friends to go have cocktails. Lo and behold, there was Oscar sitting on a concrete bench eating an ice cream - obviously peddling that ass. He didn’t expect to see me so soon and seemed a bit agitated on talking with me. I explained to him he need not tell me some cockamamie story just to get out of my house; he is free to do what he likes. I was hungry and invited the little shit for some tacos. In which, after I flipped the bill, he hit me up for twenty more pesos. Egads. I just went home, watched some television then fell asleep.
A couple of hours later, I found myself at that dive bar I like oh so very much, Caletilla and not thirty seconds in the door I was hit up for a beer by the local ‘Can you buy me anything’ mooch. Now, this person, who introduced himself as Alejandro, was fantastic eye candy and I was intimidated by his good looks, so I shared my caguama with him. However, four caguamas later, and getting a pretty good buzz on, Alejandro’s cheery demeanor changed sour when the beer was cut off. I mean, c’mon…what a fucking mooch. And I pointed this fact out to him, much to his displeasure. He left in a huff. Ah, fuck ‘em all, squares on both sides.
The sun gone, I waited outside the bar under the sheltering moon for some of my friends to come by. Hit up by ugly trannies and having a sane conversation with the receptionist at the halfway house located next door, I finally was united with Esperanza, Ricardo, and Ignacio. Once back inside the bar, again, a cute shorty came up and started on the mooch.
“I wonder if you can do me a favor?” He meekly asked.
“Uh-oh. Those are dangerous words, handsome.” I quipped.
“I’m thirsty and I’d like a beer.”
“Well, gee” I said, “There’s a whole bar in front of you…why don’t you just order one.”
“That’s the thing.” He smiled. “I haven’t any money.”
“Why would you come to a bar without any money? You are assuming a lot there, kiddo.”
“I understand.” He said, a little wounded. “Could you buy me a beer?”
With that I got onto a bitch roll: “Look, I have been buying people beer for two days straight now. As a matter of fact, I have been living in your country for almost ten years and once, just once, I’d like the tables turned and someone to buy me a beer…just once. But, that doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen, does it? Nope…because as we all well know, Americans are so fucking rich, we got money blowing outta our asses and can buy any and everything, right? I mean, the way you mooches approach me fifty times a day, you’d think I got millions of dollars in the bank. Yeah, I’m so fucking rich…that’s why I live in a Mexican slum and not in a swanky penthouse in El Paso.”
“So, can I have a beer?”
“Buzz off! Go ask those other guys…or is it only Americans you bother with your financial woes?”
It must have hit home, because when I turned from my friends, the little fucker was drinking with some fat old tired queen. My buzz gone, I bid my friends goodnight and left. I stopped for a hamburger; of course some cholo had asked me to buy a burger for him. Sigh. No! I stumbled home and fell asleep.
A nation of mooches. All that it is.
One morning, I walked to Café Central stopping at the Plaza in front of the Cathedral for a smoke and people watch. I was about to walk to Café Central for breakfast, when my friend Javier approached me. We chitchatted about things; work, money, going out, when I invited him for breakfast. After a good meal of juevos rancheros and a taza de café, we walked over to my pad and took no time in getting down and dirty. Several positions later, Javier and I took an afternoon siesta. I mean, a good morning of humping can take the wind outta ya, know what I mean? Waking up around noon, we showered and said our good-byes. Not before Javier hit me up for some dough. All I had on me was sixty pesos and I was chagrined when Javier asked for more.
“You don’t have cien?”
I just escorted him to the door, I mean really.
Later, I was standing out front of the Cathedral enjoying the sun and a fresca. A performance artist dressed as a cowboy and covered in silver paint was doing the old robot routine, drawing quite a crowd; a young, handsome guy stands next to me and starts a conversation on the matter. I glance him over, not bad. He then goes into a yarn about looking for his wife who is possibly in the Plaza with her new boyfriend. I thought this angle was quite droll and laughed it off. Money was brought up, on his part. How broke he was from her. I told him that was too bad and with that he gone into the Cathedral for the Mass that had just begun.
Moments later, said hottie comes out of the church and goes on how sad he was over his ailing mother. How he needed fifty dollars for her medicine. I asked where he worked and he explained the Old Market, which was always crawling with old American tourist and I pointed out his tips must be very good. That shut him up for a bit. Then he mumbled something about going to the International Border to get some money for his friend. I wished him luck.
At this moment, an old friend approached and said hola, it was Oscar. Oscar shook hands and entered the church for Mass. The other guy, who I finally got his name as Antonio, started up on how he needed to get his son some new clothes. I thought, C’mon! If you need some cash, come out with it and cut the corny stories of woe!
Seeing this was going nowhere, Antonio asked what I was doing later that night. I said I would be drinking with some friends.
“Where?”
“Oh, I don’t know the name of the bar…I just know how to get there.”
He smiled and said, “It’s a gay bar, right?”
I looked at him with mock shock, “What? Gay bar? No…it’s…okay, yeah; it’s a fucking queer joint. You have good eyes – though I pegged you too when you started talking to me.”
“I’m not queer, dude.” He said.
Of course - the old I’ll blow you, I’ll fuck you, but I won’t kiss you because I’m not queer line. With that he mumbled something about meeting me that night at 8:00 o’clock to go with my friends and me. I said sure and Antonio took off for the International Border for his rendezvous with the fifty-dollar friend.
I sat on the Cathedral steps smoking a Lucky and watching the eye candy pass and that’s when Oscar approached me.
“Is everything okay between you and God?” I joked.
“I don’t have a problem with God. I think God has a problem with me.” Oscar smiled. “Let’s go to your house…did you get any new porn movies?”
I laughed, “Damn, boy! You just came outta church and you wanna watch porn?” Pause. “Let’s go.”
“Vamanos.” Oscar agreed.
At my pad, as the porn played, I gave Oscar some head. Oscar is great eye candy and love those abs - cock was so hard a cat couldn’t scratch it. After that, I was hit up for one hundred pesos. Sigh, again, can’t we have sex just because it’s fun and not cheapen it into a financial negotiation? I mean, Oscar has a good job with a roof repair company, why does he need money? Paid the little fucker and separated at the front door. Him mentioning going to his house.
Back in front of the Cathedral, the sun was sinking over the dusty mountains and I sat waiting for my friends to go have cocktails. Lo and behold, there was Oscar sitting on a concrete bench eating an ice cream - obviously peddling that ass. He didn’t expect to see me so soon and seemed a bit agitated on talking with me. I explained to him he need not tell me some cockamamie story just to get out of my house; he is free to do what he likes. I was hungry and invited the little shit for some tacos. In which, after I flipped the bill, he hit me up for twenty more pesos. Egads. I just went home, watched some television then fell asleep.
A couple of hours later, I found myself at that dive bar I like oh so very much, Caletilla and not thirty seconds in the door I was hit up for a beer by the local ‘Can you buy me anything’ mooch. Now, this person, who introduced himself as Alejandro, was fantastic eye candy and I was intimidated by his good looks, so I shared my caguama with him. However, four caguamas later, and getting a pretty good buzz on, Alejandro’s cheery demeanor changed sour when the beer was cut off. I mean, c’mon…what a fucking mooch. And I pointed this fact out to him, much to his displeasure. He left in a huff. Ah, fuck ‘em all, squares on both sides.
The sun gone, I waited outside the bar under the sheltering moon for some of my friends to come by. Hit up by ugly trannies and having a sane conversation with the receptionist at the halfway house located next door, I finally was united with Esperanza, Ricardo, and Ignacio. Once back inside the bar, again, a cute shorty came up and started on the mooch.
“I wonder if you can do me a favor?” He meekly asked.
“Uh-oh. Those are dangerous words, handsome.” I quipped.
“I’m thirsty and I’d like a beer.”
“Well, gee” I said, “There’s a whole bar in front of you…why don’t you just order one.”
“That’s the thing.” He smiled. “I haven’t any money.”
“Why would you come to a bar without any money? You are assuming a lot there, kiddo.”
“I understand.” He said, a little wounded. “Could you buy me a beer?”
With that I got onto a bitch roll: “Look, I have been buying people beer for two days straight now. As a matter of fact, I have been living in your country for almost ten years and once, just once, I’d like the tables turned and someone to buy me a beer…just once. But, that doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen, does it? Nope…because as we all well know, Americans are so fucking rich, we got money blowing outta our asses and can buy any and everything, right? I mean, the way you mooches approach me fifty times a day, you’d think I got millions of dollars in the bank. Yeah, I’m so fucking rich…that’s why I live in a Mexican slum and not in a swanky penthouse in El Paso.”
“So, can I have a beer?”
“Buzz off! Go ask those other guys…or is it only Americans you bother with your financial woes?”
It must have hit home, because when I turned from my friends, the little fucker was drinking with some fat old tired queen. My buzz gone, I bid my friends goodnight and left. I stopped for a hamburger; of course some cholo had asked me to buy a burger for him. Sigh. No! I stumbled home and fell asleep.
A nation of mooches. All that it is.
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