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Browsing Tag: #mexican
All I knew was he went by Rod. I found him through a friend of a friend of an acquaintance after I couldn’t find a granny witch. Everybody said I didn’t want to open that door, and I tended to agree. So straight-up murder, no magic, then. I assumed he came from a neighboring county that had, shall we say, less stringent laws? The authorities would turn a blind eye to lots of misdeeds…especially if you feathered their nest if the public got to lookin’ too close. But I wasn’t going to ask him about his family and politics. The less we knew about each other, the better. It’s surprisingly easy to put a hit out. And cheap! Less than what you’d pay for a mediocre used car. The details were simple: meet in a corner booth in a Mexican restaurant. Wear a black shirt (how original, I know). Order a burrito with extra sour cream. Slide the money under a stack of napkins at the earliest convenience. Finish the meal, and get the heck out. Leave first and don’t look back. So that’s what we did. Rod was sturdily built, with a goatee. He looked like any number of guys in these parts. Not a killer. He was wearing a plaid shirt with pockets and blue jeans. Lace-up boots. A pack of cigarettes in one pocket, sunglasses in another. He…
Sometimes we eat Mexican because there’s nothing else to do. And it’s cheap. I don’t understand these people who get hung up on the menu. It’s all the same: beans, rice, cheese, and either chicken or steak. Just randomly point, it’ll be fine. I’m looking at a girl, maybe 25, clearly at a loss on what to order. She’s dithering. All the advice I have is probably don’t try the molcajete. it comes in a cauldron and has tiny squid in it. I feel a little sorry for her boyfriend, but not too much, because it looks like he’s accustomed to her level of pickiness. He looks bored and slightly stressed because the waiter is having to answer fourteen thousand questions about rice, beans, and cheese. The boyfriend is probably thinking their food will be spit on. I would spit on it if I was their waiter. Heck, I might spit on her. That’s why I’m not a waiter. She looks kinda high maintenance. She’s got one of those “I need to speak with the manager” haircuts and a big nose. I hear hear say, “No guacamole. Nothing green,” with a cutting off motion of her hand. She’s wearing some very fancy shoes for this kind of establishment. The boyfriend is wearing a ball cap, cargo shorts, and a t…
Lisa and I have this game we like to play when we’re out. All we do is try to guess the occupation of the people around us. Sometimes we even ask the ones we’re talking about if we’re not in agreement. I don’t like that part, because I understand that not everybody is approachable. Also, after so many years in a retail environment, I don’t fancy striking up a conversation with strangers. But Lisa has virtually no filter and she really likes talking to new people (and subsequently challenging them to a debate). Additionally, she likes telling people she teaches kickboxing. But anyway, it’s a fun way to pass the time and speculate. We get it right more than you would think. I’ve played a version for years in my head everywhere I go. But mine is more of a first date/ just friends/ work colleagues/ affair/ married an eternity version. Careers typically don’t enthuse me. And you know what I see the most? People sitting across the table from one another, on their phones. Completely ignoring the person they’re with. This drives me mad. Surprisingly, you don’t see as much of it at the bar. Patrons watch sports on the TVs, or they’re engaged with the people around them, strangers or not. There is a camaraderie. Blame the alcohol or praise it; I know I prefer interaction…
