drunk in the heart of texas, pt. VIII

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CHAPTER VIII

Happier Times: Masters Of Mariachi Huddle With Texas Kelly And Dubya Before The Ill-Fated Fresh-Plus Gig

The Fresh-Plus gig... well, let's just say it did not go as planned. Everything seemed fine at first -- it was a beautiful day, my hangover was rapidly receding, and the bargain-minded shoppers before us were eager for a stern mari-rocking. What could possibly go wrong?

"Eh, excuse me, Hombre muy Extraño," said Paulo, clearing his throat. Rudy nudged him forward. "The other guys, they uh, they have a suggestion..."

"Fear not, young grasshopper," I said, graciously. "You'll find the Sultan of Syllables to be all ears when it comes to ideas for improving Masters of Mariachi."

"Heh heh," said Paulo. "Sí. It, uh, it is funny what you say, señor. Heh. Uhhh..."

"Come on, man -- out with it! We haven't got all day! The good patrons of Fresh-Plus await!"

Rudy nudged Paulo again, harder this time.

"Hoo. Okay. Uh, well. See the guys, uh, they think maybe your talents lie outside of the singing."

"Come again?"

"They, uh, they think maybe you would like better the, how you say, triangle?"

"The triangle?! What the hell is the triangle?"

"Eh, you know. Three sides? Pointy? Made of, uh, metal?"

"Well, what does one do with that? Blow into it?"

"No, señor. You hit it. Make nice sound, no?"

"Make nice sound..? No, I -- oh, wait a minute. This is a joke, isn't it? Huh? Are you boys playing a trick on the old Haiku Master? Huh? Huh? Come on now, you can tell me. I won't be mad."

"Uh, no señor," he said, shaking his head slowly. "They, uh, they don't want you to sing no more. They want me -- Paulo."

"Say what?!" I gasped, incredulously. "You're firing me? You little bastards are firing me?! After all I've done for you?!"

"Señor, please," Paulo pleaded. "Don't take it so hard, eh?"

"Does he speak the truth?!" I demanded, turning from Paulo to the other MoM members. "You guys are firing me?"

To a man, and to what will no doubt be their eternal damnation, they nodded in the affirmative.

"You don't fire me!" I screamed, wagging a disapproving finger in their faces. "I fire you! You got that? I! Fire! You!"

With that, the infamous Haiku Master Berserker Rage overtook me, and the world went black. When I came to, I found myself perched at the feet of Austin's famous Lenin Statue... the necks of two smashed mariachi guitars clenched 'tween my bloody fists!

The Haiku Master Ponders His Next Step At Austin's Famous Lenin Statue

"My god!" I hissed. "What have I done? Sweet baby christ, someone tell me what I've done!"

"You've made a big mistake, that's what you've done," came a rough-sounding voice from behind me. I spun around -- only to be smacked in the face by a large, greasy catfish! Before I knew it, I was surrounded by a vicious gang of catfish-wielding heavies, each more fearsome than the one before!

"So, you got questions about The Brotherhood, do you?" one drawled, smacking a catfish into the palm of his open hand. "Let's enlighten him, boys!"

Now I'm no English major, but I'm fairly certain dictionary mogul Funkand Wagnalls doesn't define "enlighten" as sadistically catfish-whipping a person into unconsciousness before urinating on him and stealing his wallet. That is, however, exactly what happened next... as I had finally come face to face with the infamous Brotherhood of Catfishermen!

Needless to say, it's not an experience I'm eager to repeat.

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