Man on the Moon, Part Two
By: Scott Sousa
Diego parked the cab in front of a café and punched a number into his cell phone. I didn't understand a word of what he said. My high school Spanish teacher with big tits failed me.
There were two men sitting outside watching us. Normally I don't like to stare but my eyes locked with theirs' and there was no turning back.
"They are ready for you," Diego said. "Go inside and order to espressos. You will be escorted from there."
Carl paid him and we walked in the café. It was a dirty place but much nicer than some of the other places we have found ourselves in. The cigarette smoke smelled more expensive. We picked a table near a window and sat down.
"This is it," Carl said.
An overweight man with a curly mustache came to take our order.
"Two espressos, please."
"Si señor," said the overweight man and he motioned for us to follow him. He led us through a door in the back, down a dimly lit stairway.
A hand came out of the darkness and got Carl, and another got me. A rag went over my mouth and the sweetness of chloroform filled my lungs. The dreams began almost immediately.
Lilacs and whiskey in an extravagant hotel suite in Las Vegas. I was on top of the world but no matter how much I begged could not get room service to bring me a glass of whole milk.
Panic set in. I ran out into the desert but my legs melted in the heat. I became a puddle, stationary, looking up at the sky. A kitten sat next to me, purring, staring at me with a curiosity only a kitten could possess. It began to lap me up. I was the milk...
Man on the Moon, Part One
By: Scott Sousa
The alarm rang and we slowly peeled our skin from the bed sheets. It was hot and our balls were sweaty but that didn't matter much because we were in Mexico City and there everyone's balls were sweaty; The place stank like it, anyway.
Carl had dragged me to Mexico to help him pick up pain killers. He had never done anything like this before. "On T.V. they make it look so simple," he said, "You just cross the border and go to the pharmacy half a block away." Half a block turned into over 1,000 miles into the heart of this perverse jungle of modern badlanders, farmers and uninteresting villages where you could never quite tell if everyone was happy or sad. Our day trip had lasted well over a week at this point. No body's got the quantity Carl wants to buy, so they tell us to keep going south.
We hailed a cab. "You speak English?" Carl asked.
"Of course, meester," the cabbie said.
We got in and took off.
"Where you headed?"
"Do you know anyone with pain killers?" Carl asked.
"Pain killers?"
"Yeah, vicodins, percocets. Pain killers."
"Oh sure, I know someone who can help you," the cabbie said smiling.
"I want to buy a lot, can this person handle that?"
"Sure, sure. Diego can get you however much of whatever it is that you want."
Carl smiled at me.
"Okay. Great. I have a prescription a doctor wro-"
"You won't need a prescription. Nothing requires anything in Mexico, meester."
"Fair enough. What's your name?"
"Me? I'm Cesar."
"Pleasure to meet you, Cesar. I'm Carl, and my friend here is Davis."
I met his eyes in the rear view mirror and said, "Howyahdoin."
"It's going to be a long ride, get comfortable," Cesar said.
He nailed the accelerator, zig-zagging down narrow city streets, racing red lights and yellow at anyone within earshot of the cab who might have been thinking of getting in our way. We were finally making progress and after today we could go home.