March 17, 2009

Fiction for a Tuesday

I was traveling in the heart of Central America, accompanied by a man who lived there. He was carrying a shiny white automatic coffee maker under his arm, making himself rather conspicuous I thought, and was going to poor shut-ins who couldn't afford an automatic coffee maker but who apparently had the money to pay a man to bring a coffee maker & make them coffee. I questioned not the arrangement nor how the coffee maker worked in areas lacking electricity since this was a dream. Although I didn't know it was a dream at the time, had I known I would've told the man that I was appreciative since this one was better than average.

He was subject constantly to la mordida, "the bite", and with increasing frequency we would encounter policemen demanding a bribe. One gleefully ran up to us pantomining a proboscis going into an arm, shamelessly playing his part of a mosquito wanting a share of blood. I asked him if the policemen bothered him and he shrugged helplessly. One ran by us, too busy to collect money it seemed, and I pointed that out. "There must be an emergency," I said, and he said there must be a more tempting target elsewhere.

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