Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Señor Gordo

By Terrance Aldon Shaw



Señor Gordo is never not hungry. Little cabron’s always complaining about it, and, of course, I’m the one who has to sit there and listen to him 24/7.

 

“Man! It’s been six whole months—”

 

“Weeks.”

 

“Whatever! We never go anywhere.”

 

“Aw, Geez! Don’t start with that again.”

 

“You thinking about joining the priesthood or something?”

 

“At least I think—”

 

“—therefore you suck,”  Señor Gordo laughs at his own cleverness. “What’s the matter with you anyway, Mr. I-know-what’s-best for everybody?”

 

“Like you can’t figure it out?”

 

“How come we never go out anymore, jeffe?”

 

“Maybe because you’re always embarrassing us.” I say.

 

“—or maybe because you’re always thinking too much, El Gran Cerebro!”

 

“Well, somebody has to. For Pete's sakes! I’m not the one who practically splooged on that pole dancer’s hooters in Omaha. They were gonna call the cops for crying out loud!”

 

“Ha! Good times! Good times!”

 

“Are you kidding? I was scared shitless. Did you see the size of that bouncer?”

 

“Did you see the size of that stripper’s titas? Besides, we could have taken that doorman—no problemo!

 

“See, there ya go—”

 

“C’mon, amigo! All I’m saying is that maybe you should try pulling your weight a little more.”

 

“I pull plenty of weight. I carry you around, don’t I?”

 

“You’ve got serious issues, dude. Lighten up a little. Try and have some fun—Hey! Remember that Portuguese chica at that diner in Texas? Mui caliente, no? Why didn’t you try talking to her?”

 

“Here we go—”

 

“The mother wasn’t bad either. Ay! Madre que me gustaria coger! I’d have loved to—”

 

“What? Do the two of them together? That bitch would have cut off our balls and served ‘em up in the soup of the day if she even thought we’d looked sideways at the hija—”

 

“C’mon, man! Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

 

“—besides which, that muchacha was only fourteen—or didn’t you notice? Talk about adventures! You want us to end up in prison—in Texas?

 

“Better that than in the priesthood. You going maricon on me, bro?”

 

“What is it with you, Gordo? I just can’t figure you out sometimes.”

 

No es dificil, jeffe. All I want is to have some fun. Is that too much to ask?”

 

“How did we ever end up together like this? Me, a pasty-faced Swede from Minnesota; you, a loudmouthed verga from Jalisco who talks like the second-coming of Cheech, joined at the groin like trans-ethnic Siamese twins because of some massive cosmic bureaucratic snafu—”

 

“You think you got it bad? You should see the poor baboso from Guadalajara who got stuck with your lily-white pinga!”

 

“—Geez Louise! It’s like a scenario for one of those braindead sit-coms on Fox—”

 

“—starring Señor Gordo, with Jessica Alba as the Beaver!” 

 

“—more like being in hell, stuck together for all eternity.”

 

“Well, it’s not hard to see who gets the better end of that deal!”

 

“Says you, Cerebro Pequeño.”

 

Chingate, gilipollas! You’re just a stick in the mud.”

 

“And you’re a lousy excuse for a cock!”

 

“You tryin’ to start a cock fight with a Mexican,  gringo?”

 

“The point is, that whole thing about dicks having minds of their own is just a silly metaphor—a convenient excuse guys use to behave like—well, for lack of a better word—dicks. It’s not a real thing. You’re not a real thing—” 

 

“—says the culero loco who talks to his own pollo.”

 

“You’ve messed up my life, gotten into my head, embarrassed me, alienated every woman I’ve ever been interested in, and forced me to wear flesh-colored condoms for Pete’s sake!”

 

“Hey! Don’t go putting no globitos on me, man! That wasn’t my idea—no way!”

 

“—Can you blame me for being just the slightest bit frustrated? Can you see how all that would possibly—”


“Whoa, dude! D’you see the April centerfold? Ay ay ay muchacho! I am in loooove!


Copyright ©2015 Terrance Aldon Shaw.  All rights reserved.  Do not reproduce in any form, including electronic, without the author’s express permission.



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AUTHOR BIO


TERRANCE ALDON SHAW’s current project is a collection of “mature literary” short fiction (50 stories ranging from 50 to 3500 words) entitlted The Moon-Haunted Heart. He blogs, and shares the occasional story at Erotica for the Big Brain. Among TAS’ other titles are the anthologies Six Erotic Tales and Kiss-Off the Devil (9 Short Stories). On-going endeavors include The Erotic Writer’s Thesaurus (With Notes on Usage). Contact TAS at taldonshaw@gmail.com.




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