Stories, Thoughts and Snippets
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"Hey, Charlie."
"What?"
"What do you get when you throw a baby down a staircase?"
"You mean other than a dead baby, John?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know, what?"
"A fucking hard-on."
"John, why don't you just drive the fucking truck and shut the fuck up."
"Lighten up man, it's a fucking joke. Hand me a beer would you?"
"Hey John, what's worse than being a Mexican caught by the INS?"
"I don't know, what?" I was kind of excited, Charlie never told jokes.
"Being a fucking American and getting caught smuggling Mexicans by the INS. They just send those fucking wet-backs home, you know what they do to us? We fucking go to prison. So, no, you can't have a fucking beer. And you know what else? This is the last fucking time we work together, once we drop these boys and ditch the truck, you and I are going separate ways."
"Aww come on, man. Don't be a fucking dick, we're not getting caught, and you need me for this racket, you don't speak Spanish."
"Look, I don't know how the fuck your dumb-ass learned Spanish in the first place, but I'm willing to bet it wasn't your fault. It isn't like it's going to be hard finding someone else who speaks Spanish, but that doesn't matter anyway, I don't think this shit is worth it anymore."
"What are you talking about? How the hell else are you going to make yourself five grand for a days work? Easy work too, all you got to do is drive a truck and act cool."
"Five grand isn't worth five years of my life. Christ I wouldn't get much more than that for sticking up a fucking bank."
"Really?"
"Armed robbery isn't that big a deal, especially if you've got a clean record, with parole you could be out in three or four years."
"Bullshit."
"Believe what you want, man. That's the turn off up there, slow her down and lets get this over with."
We pulled off into a clearing hidden from view of the highway, and Charlie hopped out and opened the back. I got out and told the Mexicans which way the nearest town was, some of them had already made arrangements and there were other men waiting to pick them up. I did not know what the others were going to do, if they just walked into town they were going to get themselves picked up inside an hour, and that is waste of money that these people cannot afford.
Everyone pulled away and Charlie was already wiping down the truck, anywhere we might have touched.
"Hey, Charlie, were you serious about that bank time, because you know I'd be down for some action like that."
"I'm not robbing a fucking bank, certainly not with you."
"Come on, man." Charlie walked past me to his Ford pickup.
"Goodbye, John." He slammed the door and drove away.
"Well I'm not a fucking pussy, I'll do a bank on my own!" I yelled after him. I grabbed my duffel turned up the radio in my car, and drove away."
Vegas always had a strange little place in my heart. I won't say that it felt like home, because that place isn't home to anything, or anyone. At least not the real Las Vegas, not the strip. Sure people lived in North Vegas and in all the outskirts, but real people can't survive in a place like that, hell the place exists solely to separate average people from their means of survival. I'd go every so often, every time I had something to celebrate. I figured this qualified, the end of one leg of my career and the hopeful beginning of another, more worthwhile, activity.