I had his money, and he had my girl. I wondered if she was worth all this money. She’s not, but I decided to make the trade anyway – call it romance, call it old-fashioned, call it just plain horny.
The money I had belonged to a man called El Jefe. The word on street is he’s a bad dude.
Anywho, the switch was set for 11 p.m. on All Hollow’s Eve, which was last night. I was to drive down River Road until it veers off and pull into the abandoned filling station to my left and leave my lights on.
The rest was going to be instructed to me when I got there.
I was told to come unarmed.
I brought 12 rounds of Grade A.
Just in case – call it habit.
I pulled up to the filling station at 10:59. The moon lit up the night with an eerie light; the fog was rolling off the river thick and almost seemed as if it could choke you.
I left my lights on.
A minute later, literally, a 1968 Chevy Conquistador pulled in beside my Honda wagon.
My girl was tied up in the back guarded by two goons. The driver opened his door, and looked at me first before walking around the front of the car and opening the passenger door.
I saw his shadow first, cast by the waning moon. It slivered over the cracks in the asphalt.
Then, he appeared. He was tall and thin just like his shadow, but the only thing that slivered was his awkward mustache that curled devilishly around his lips.
“Bow to El Jefe you ungrateful ghoul,” one of goons growled.
I obeyed and curtseyed El Jefe.
“Well, do you have my money,” he said.
“Yes.”
“And as you can see, I have the girl. All right, no funny business, Mr. Funny Man – you throw me the money, and I throw you the honey.”
“1-2-3-”
He had the money, and I had the honey. It looked like I was gonna get out of this without any yolk in my face.
“You know, I don’t think she’s worth this much money,” El Jefe grinned.
I decided not to respond, but then I saw him motion to the two goons in the bed of the car – they reached into their coats.
I threw the girl in the wagon and reached for my weapon – a carton of Grade A large eggs.
They had free range; I could tell by their splatter against the side of my car. I hit one goon square in the nose with one and grazed the other’s shoulder.
The half car-half truck spun off down River Road while I chunked the last of my ammunition at them.
The battle wasn’t nearly over. El Jefe tried to egg me. But thanks to the girl remembering where El Jefe lived, together we TPed his trees and broke off the top of 500 plastic forks in his front yard.
Happy Halloween El Jefe.
 
Jay recommends you do not try this at home. Contact him at [email protected]