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30DM2W III - Day 15

My Ears Are Ringing

The hot mid-day sun hung high in a cloudless sky beating down on those of us silly enough to be out and about at that time of day. I pulled a well-worn handkerchief out of my back pocket and dabbed my brow for the umpteenth time in the last hour. I was waiting for my contact, sitting on a park bench in the town square. He was late and I was suffering the consequences of sitting in an area without a shade tree in sight. My contact was an immigration expert although not exactly of the legal sort. Word had it he ran wetbacks across the border and was probably the most successful at it, more than any of his competition.

And then he was beside me on the bench. He'd arrived silently and gave me a bit of a start.


"Good what?" I responded.

"No, you. Gouda?"

"Oh, sorry, yeah, that's me. You Manuel?

"Si, me Manuel."

"Okay, Manuel, I see you. But tell me, how does it work? Just what's the genesis of transporting illegals?"

"Well" said Manuel. "I got a cousin and she got a friend who thought that her aunt knew a man who could help. At his apartment I knocked on the door. He wouldn't come out until he got paid. Now don't tell anybody what I wanna do. If they find out you know that they'll never let me through."

"Hmm" I responded "I can see it's no fun being an illegal alien, no it's no fun being an illegal alien."

"Si, you've hit the hammer on your head, Jack."

"Okay, so I'm on the trail of one of these illegals. I think he may have topped off some Mexicans. Is there some community of them somewhere? A place where they hang out maybe?"

"Si, there are several. Say, why are my ears ringing? My ears are ringing, Jack. What's with that?"

"It's not your ears, Manuel. It's my phone you dummy."

I took the call. It was Dylan, my live-in lover, calling to thank me for all the trouble I'd gone to the day before - Valentine's Day. I'd gotten hold of a rare, almost out of print Van Morrison CD that for new sold for close to $100. But I'd managed to find a used copy of Hard Nose the Highway on the internet for $33. We were looking forward to listening to it later together. "No problem, babe. Anything for you." We exchanged some personal stuff, unique to couples in the grips of cupid, that I won't go into here. Let's just say I'd be looking forward to going home tonight - maybe I'd go home a little early - you know, for some, as Van puts it, warm love.

We said our good-byes and I turned to Manuel. He had a bemused look on his face. He'd obviously overheard my conversation with Dylan.

But he made no reference to it. Instead he told me that many of the illegals hung out at a pub called The Twelfth Night. I slipped Manuel a Benjamin and knew where I'd be spending my afternoon.

Where are you spending your afternoon? Why not spend it at We Work For Cheese reading the posts from my blogging buddies and their take on today's prompt.


ReformingGeek said…
Well, now, Mr. Jackhammer, you are just too hot to trot!
Linda R. said…
You deserve a break after hammering down that lead.
nonamedufus said…
Yeah, maybe I'll go out and get hammered.
Linda Medrano said…
I think this lead is fantastic. If you can trust an illegal alien that is.
nonamedufus said…
Oh, I trust you Linda. Glad you enjoyed the piece.
"It's not your ears, Manuel. It's my phone you dummy." That's awesome. And then there are those moments when someone next to you has YOUR ringtone!
nonamedufus said…
I use my iPhone - or I should say people call me - so infrequently I can never remember my own ring tone.
frankleemeidere said…
So it's High Summer in your story? Well, things will cool down When That Evening Sun Goes Down. It sounds like you're talking to the Village Idiot, though. I bet when he mentioned the ringing you were thinking, "Whey Do I Always Have to Explain." Anyhow, I hope it works out all right and you can get back to your Brown Eyed Girl.
Cheryl P. said…
Better be careful at the Twelfth Night. What is the Mexican word for dummy? Poor Manual seems a bit dense not being able to figure out a cell phone ringing.
nonamedufus said…
I find explaining things to the village idiot helps with the stories exposition. And when you have to spread things over 28 days anything that helps the exposition is a good thing.
nonamedufus said…
Manuel's shall we say a few books short of a full library.
Linda Medrano said…
Now just to clarify, I am not an alien. The only time I've ever been called one had something to do with alienation of affection or something. Plus, I cannot swim. That means I am no wetback.
nonamedufus said…
So then you're like a purple people eater?
How's the head? Those hammers can do a number on you.
KZ said…
Ah, the power of the Benjamin.
nonamedufus said…
Even more powerful than a mere devalued Canadian Borden.
meleahrebeccah said…
and the plot thickens!
nonamedufus said…
Thicker than V-8 juice.

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