Taterchip mens and wreck whore.
(or is it Taterchip Whore and the Wreck?)

Sounds like a Cat Stevens album...

Anyway, the sidewalk rapidly became our buzzards' roost of choice, when Niurka wasn't there.
(I want you to see why they call this guy Niurka. Now for all of you non-hispanics and non-hispanic affiliate gringoes, Niurka is this whacked out Cuban broad who left her rich, influential soap opera empire king husband for a hot, young, 'sexy' dude with pork chop sideburns named Bobby Larios. Her husband made a soap opera to launch her. She had this husband on-camera [enter Bobby Sideburns] husband, and she started banging him. After she left her real husband (who she said was impotent and *gasp* forced her to masturbate herself on her birthday because she's a whiny, long-nailed nympho island harpie), Niurka and Bobby started taking weird, fetishy pictures. Google image search 'Niurka' and you will find said island harpie naked and covered with mud, with mexican coiffe boy.) [ / whine ]

Mexico Niurka is a gimplegged Mexican dude with long, curly locks like Cuban nympho island harpie Niurka. He steals the pink apartment complex of loves' water to wash cars and rinse turds from the street. He does NOT live here, but he likes to drink his caguamas (read: quarts of beer) on MY sidewalk and make my life miserable. I gave him 20 pesos to go get a sammitch one night and leave me the hell alone.

Anyway, Niurka wasn't there this night, so we run outside and claim the stoop for our own. There are no moaning diabolical temptresses, no soliders, no turds, no roaches, so we enjoy the fresh air at 1 am. The buses are passing as workers are leaving the maquiladoras. And all of a sudden, BAM!!! *insert Batman 60's-era flash blurbs*. Out of nowhere, a beatup maroon car peels out and leaves. With the satisfying sound of crunching metal, we decided someone may have been run over and this bastard was leaving them to die. I run up the hill, in boxers and American Flag flipflops, and start crossing this 4 lane nightmare to see what's up.

I get there, and the windshield's crushed. A piece of the axle LITERALLY ROLLS up to my feet, and I step over it in my efforts to inch closer to the car I am expecting to find someone dead in, or at least lying nearby.

Airbags are deployed and there is a dude standing on the sidewalk, yelling into a cellphone. (bear with me here I've had several beers and 2 episodes of Stargate:Atlantis have passed since that last paragraph).

His hands are shaking, and he's like, 'no guey (pronounced 'way'...see El Mariachi to appreciate), we didn't hit him, HE hit us!!!'. He's eating potato chips nervously from a bag. Side note:I just opened another bottle of Sol! RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRICOOOOOOO!!!

Anyway.

He's standing there, i hear sirens in the distance, and due to my last brush with Napoleonic law, I'm wanting to leave before the pigs get there to avoid being 'taken in and processed' along with chip man and the car people. I see the other car WAYYYY off in the distance, exactly in the same spot where the moron was hit after inching foward from the red light into the highway. Asshole.

While I'm talking to tater chip man (yes, I did establish contact), I am asking him if he's ok. I look over after a second due to an excessive taterchip bag crumpling sound, and my nephew is digging into taterchip man's bag. He's TAKING HIS CHIPS FROM HIM. They are staring at the car, shaking their head, and my idiotic 12 year old nephew is telling him such helpful and meaningful things as 'Dude, you messed up bad.' He eventually finishes the guy's bag of chips. And on that note, 8 Ford F150's from the transito police show up. I nonchalantly begin to walk backwards, staring into the sewage ditch there on the opposite side of 4 lane nightmare, and i make my way into the darkness, across the other 2 lanes, and back down to our sidewalk. The crackhead is walking by but at this point the only thing left to do is half-heartedly check to see if my van is locked. We wouldn't want them stealing my club anti-theft device or change from the ashtray now, would we?

Finishing SG:Atlantis Season 1 tonight, I'm noticing that my 2 year old nephew is making Wraith sounds in his dark room, trying to scare his siblings. It's so cheesy it's cute.

Tomorrow:

Is that Dengue? And man, your chest has grown.