by Fish » Wed Jan 24, 2007 7:20 pm
My Dinner With Hombre
Hombre is a fat man. He is a man of such girth that most doorways pose somewhat of a challenge and require a bit of maneuvering about to be able to pass through without some part of his large torso to brush the doorframe. A little shift here a slight turn there and a sigh of relief that he didn’t scrape his nipple on some cold wood.
I hadn’t met Hombre until this night so I was a little taken aback to learn that this fat f@#ker that had to have both doors of the Horsebrass Pub open to fit through the entrance was a top smuggler for the Columbian Cartel. I mean how could he? Was it possible for a man so large to escape detection of the United States DEA? Then again, come to think of it, the DEA are a bunch of half wits! He must have his minions accomplish some of the underworlds most daring and successful shipments because this fat, sweaty, greasy haired stinkpot of a man could hardly bend at the elbows!
Surely, I thought, my “acquaintances’” were setting me up on some kind of a joke. Little did I know that this evening would be the beginning of a lifetime of regrets for the man actually was thee Hombre! So many tales had been told of the man in darker, seedier places than this. Hell, this the Taj compared to those places! Just what was he doing here talking to me over a pint of bitter and a double order of Portland’s best fish and chips?