Let me be perfectly clear about one thing. I’m talking about a Guatemalan friend named Jesus–not Jesus Christ. I’m sure the Lord would spend time with a Tijuana prostitute, but I have a hard time believing that the Son of God would pay for her services. Every weekend. For the past two months.
I’m not knocking the world’s oldest profession, because it’s a woman’s choice how she wants to make a living, but I have to believe that Jesus (pronounced Hey-Zuse) could find a perfectly suitable ho without driving more than two hours and crossing an international border. I’m not an expert on So. Cal. prostitutes, but I’m pretty sure he could find someone in the same genre as the one he’s currently banging. One would have to think, right?
Let me give you a little background. Jesus is a porter who has rented a room from my friend’s house for the past five years. My friend is a checker and having a him around was helpful to her. Jesus has been acting kind of loco lately and my friend finally got tired of his act and on September 1 told him he needed to find another place to live by October 1.
Jesus didn’t really spend much time looking for a place, so my friend found him a place to live, and he will be moving there later in the week (obviously past the October 1 deadline). Now that you realize who I’m talking about, let’s go back to this morning.
I arrived to work about 7:00 and started doing my thing. Jesus normally rolls in around 5:30 or 5:45 (though he always insists that he’s there by 5:00) and around 7:00, I asked another friend if she knew where Jesus was.
I was told that Jesus called yesterday and said he would be in later today, but no explanation as to where he was or what he was doing. Not that it’s any of my business.
My friend tells our manager that she will call Jesus to see when he will be in, and Leonel (an employee) says that Jesus probably won’t answer the phone because he’s in Tijuana with his girlfriend. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked. “Jesus has a girlfriend?”
Leonel went on to explain that he’s been going to TJ every weekend for the past couple of months to see this girl. “OK, seriously,” I asked as soon as the manager was gone. “Jesus has a girlfriend?” Leonel said, “Well. She’s actually a prostitute, but he calls her his girlfriend.” He went on to explain that he met her in a bar and enjoyed her company a couple of months ago, and now he goes down almost every week to spend time with her.
“Dude,” I said to Leonel. “What does this chick look like?” (Not that it matters, but I imagine her to be fairly hideous.) Leonel isn’t sure, but agrees with me that she’s probably been beaten with the ugly stick. Then again, maybe she’s hot-ish and she sees Jesus as her “Sugar Papi.”
Let me give you a brief description of Jesus, so you know the whole situation. He’s a nice enough guy, but he’s as lazy as I’ve ever seen. Jesus stands 5′ 1″ and has a beer gut that is mas grande. After three hip surgeries, one leg is about three inches shorter than the other, which means he wears special shoes to compensate. He says he can’t lift anything and gets people to do everything for him, yet he seemingly has no trouble carrying a case of Corona from the car to the table out in the driveway. Go figure
I guess I should say, he’s supposed to wear special shoes. He doesn’t always do so and when he doesn’t, it’s interesting to watch. I remember one summer day, walking in and seeing my homeboy going shirtless and in flip flops. I watched as he walked across the room to grab something from a shelf and I noticed his C cups bouncing as he limped.
“Amigo,” I shouted across the room. “Donde esta your zapatos? And your shirt?” He told me that it was really hot and that was the reason he was wearing only shorts and a smile. I begged him to please at the very least put his shirt back on. “No one needs to see that shit,” I explained.
If you think I’m a dick for laughing at the way he looks, please relax. I’m no George Clooney and I readily admit that. I don’t take my shirt off in public because no one needs to see my shit either. It’s like how people of African-American descent can use the “N” word with each other and get away with it. Dudes who have a few pounds to lose are allowed to rip on other dudes who need to lose the gut.
My friend called him on his cell phone. She heard music and a bunch of chicas laughing in the background and Jesus never said where he was, just that he wasn’t going to be here today. “Probably tomorrow is more better,” he said. Yeah. I bet it is more better.
At this point I looked at Leonel and said, “C’mon. Tell me what’s going on.” It turns out that Jesus has been banging this ho for the past couple of months and that he is even paying for her cell phone and an apartment in TJ. I’m not sure what an apartment in Tijuana goes for, but I would assume it’s pretty cheap.
As funny as this tale is, it’s also kind of sad. Jesus is no sugar daddy. He sleeps on a couch at his sister’s house and doesn’t make a lot of money because his work schedule is erratic at best, It’s money out the door.
I’m sitting in the break room, mulling this situation over and I keep asking myself the same question. “How much is too much for good pussy?” Also, “How good does the sex have to be if he’s willing to drive 2 1/2 hours down to Tijuana, then sit in a huge line to re-cross the border?” There are times that it takes two hours just to get through the line and back into Los Estados Unidos.
I walked into my manager’s office and said, “So, if Jesus has any more people ask for him today, can I say he’s not here because he’s in TJ banging his prostitute?” I was asked politely to NOT say that, and my assistant manager commented, “I wonder if he’s actually getting anything.”
That’s a good point. What if the skank is playing him? I don’t doubt that the possibility exists, but if it’s true, that’s some cold blooded shit. What if she’s out there, allowing anyone with cash to stick it to her, then doesn’t give it up to him. I can only hope for his sake that my assistant manager is wrong and that he’s at least getting some action for all the dinero he’s spending.
I’m also disappointed that Jesus never said anything to me about these trips. I’ve been wanting a new Baja surfer hoodie/poncho thing and he’s in Tijuana every freakin weekend. Also, a case of Victoria would be nice to have as well. What the hell is he holding out on me for?Excuse me for a moment. I need to get my bro to call him back and see if he can get me one on his way out. I’m sure he can grab one from the multitude of vendors he will encounter as he sits in line at the border.
P.S. I think the ‘chick” in the middle might actually have a penis. I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised.
No comments:
Post a Comment