Casi ChingadaA Story by LiberatedBeing
About traveling in South America. This isn't really fiction.
-Well, I’m just worried that you’re not safe.
-But Mom, I’m fine. Nothing bad has happened. This is a safe county.
And I think back to a goodbye kiss earlier this week. After a few minutes of glorious, gentle and delicious kisses, she starts playing with my belt. When this happens your mind starts spinning with sweet anticipatory thoughts. Racing and softly chanting do it, do it, do it, then finally she grabs it. It’s an instant horray moment in your mind, everything is beautiful as soon as your girl finally gives you a little touch after hours of foreplay at dinner and on the walk home. All the pent up sexual energy exhales for a moment because you know that something delicious this way comes. Ahhh she’s holding it. Until suddenly she pokes her head from around you and points -have you noticed that car has driven by 2 or 3 times?
-What car? As I turn to face the road sketching brakes answer my question. Out hops a man with a gun. It’s a small silver handgun held by a shaking arm that is pointed at the space between my eyes.
-Give me the purse.
-Tranquilo hombre, take it. I hand him the purse, her purse. He’s looking at me and I’m trying to penetrate his eyes. There is a fear, wildness, and unpredictability in them. Track marks on his arms. He reaches out to me and pats my pockets. He touches my wallet and says -Give me your phone. And I am staring at a gun barrel in my face.
-I’m just worried you’re not safe.
-Tranquilo, take it. I hand over the phone without a complaint and he reaches with his free hand and taps my pocket again where my wallet bulges out. He doesn’t ask for it however, a car pulls onto the street and the man with the gun instead runs off down the road where the car is awaiting him. And like that my goodbye kiss went from incredible to totally horrible. She cries, I console her and say goodnight before she hurries back up to her apartment. I’m left standing on the curb, shaking my head.
I’m telling this to a taxi driver because you can be honest with strangers. He stares straight ahead and explains in a unrushed voice. -Why do you think they don’t rob taxis?
-I don’t know. Why?
-Because I carry this, he says, and reaches under his seat to pull out his gun. He holds it in one hand and steers through traffic with the other. Anytime I get robbed I pull this out [he points it at me] and call up another taxista. We have to set an example, let them know that you can’t mess with the taxis. He lowers the hand with the gun onto his lap, and continues driving. Eyes ahead, unblinking, swerving in and out of traffic, gun in hand, rain pattering against the windshield.
-So how do you set an example?
-They all start crying, f*****g cowards as soon as they’re not the one with the gun. Please don’t kill me, I have a family, things like that. But I have a family too, I have to protect myself. He begins to raise his voice -How am I going to let someone rob my money if I’m working hard? Am I working hard just so some son of a b***h can rob me? No, we set the example.
Rain on the windshield, muddy river to our right.
He taps the gun on his window in the direction of the river and says - we throw them in the river. Taps again, eyes still straight ahead.
-You throw them in the river?
He nods. Eyes still straight ahead, quietly zipping through the traffic. He puts the gun back under his seat. Eyes ahead, unblinking, swerving in and out of traffic, gun under seat, rain pattering against the windshield.
I shake my head and look towards the muddy river. A few minutes later, I pay the taxi driver and happily depart on dry land. -Everything is fine Mama, nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine. This is a safe county.
© 2012 LiberatedBeing
Added on April 13, 2012
Last Updated on April 19, 2012
AboutPlagued by a disease called thought, I observe and participate in this thing called life. The itch to write has always been a part of me. "Death will be my final lover, and life will always be someth.. more..