It was a calm and bright morning (contd. 2)

Wack!

The next time he woke up, all he remembered hearing was, "Usted es loco?"

"Main kahaan hoon?" Old bollywood saying, man who wakes up from knock-out always talks in mother tongue.

"Senor, you are in Mexico City," the man with a sombrero was as astonished as our man with a fedora and he repeated again, "Usted es loco?"

"Do I look fucking Mexican?"

"Somewhat."

"I'm not."

"So?"

"I don't know Spanish! Trans-thefreaking-late!"

"Oh ok! No no, you are not to be late. You are to be on time. You arrive in beeg box. My son thought you're the my elder son Cavez who never came back from big city New York."

"I've never been to New York and I don't care about Cavez."

"I know. Man from Kenya send me anime-comic book which is a folleto on how to take care of you."

"Ah that dumb Okinawan book."

"Okinawa no, Kenya. After Kill Bill everyone either want to go to church in El Paso or drink sake in Okinawa. The hollywood is destroying world tourism. I'm starting signature campaign against Quentin Tarantino. He also polluted our own Roberto and licked toes of Salma - the mexican honour!"

"Roberto whatevero! I-o want-o to-o go-o hom-o!" Our man with a fedora screams. Not that his fedora still looks like one, it's lost it's stiffness and shape after those days in the FedEx box and before that the DHL box.

A silence followed after that. Pedro started eyeing him with suspicion. He quietly goes out and brings him tacos and some extra beans. Hungry and weak, the man starts eating with both hands. While he's eating, Pedro went and talked to some other men outside. Soon a certain senor Vargas in his mid-forties turns up and stands behind our fedora man and then suddenly feeling like he's being leched at the man turns to senor and stares.

Senor Vargas: "Usted es homo?"

Pedor walked in then, "He asking whether you are homosexual. Don't be shy, say yes. You really look like you're in dire need of some sex. You've been abstaining from Okinawa to Kenya to Mexico."

"Yes I haven't even masturbated BUT I'm not homo. I thought about Salma Hayek the last time I got off."

Wack!

When the man with the crumpled fedora woke up, "Donde estoy?"

Suddenly he stared into the mirror. His overcoat was hanging on a string besides him and his hat was nice shaped and back again but wet still. He had a sombrero with 'fedora' written on it and a poncho around his neck, BUT no pants! Biggest of all things he stared at his tongue first and said, "Oh mi dios! Estoy hablando en espanol!"

Then Senor Vargas walked up to him from behind carrying a 'English in a few easy steps' book, "Are you want coffee?"

"I want to go home."

"You want homo?"

"You ugly old perverted bastard, take me out of here."

"You want go out with me? Really? For a date?"

"Nooooo!" Our man screams and this time by mistake faints without a wack. Senor Vargas checks the anime-brochure once again, puzzled and feels cheated, 'This isn't how it's supposed to work! I didn't get to wack him' and then wacks him anyways - Wack!

When he comes to, Cavez is back from New York and they're standing near a wooden stage near their house and a few people are performing live. It's a mexican band singing the song loud and clear. The guitarist and the way he played his guitar makes our friend homesick. He stared thinking of Mithun Chakraborthy and his famous disco dancer dance, the one when he holds the guitar to his chin and plays with his wrist.

Cavez there, was a man of few words or so realised our friend who decided to get a silver shining suit to look like Mithun Chakraborthy. He was obsessed. He wanted to dance, he wanted to dance like the disco dancer to salsa music. He turned around to Cavez and asked him, "So Cavez, what did you do in America?"

"I didn't go to America but don't tell my father."

"Then what happened?"

"I met some rastafarii and we smoked up a lot of weed then I called them black africans. The lat thing I remember after that was a wack in my head."

"Then what?"

"Then I was found on the Mexican border right at the border post and they were checking for illegal immigrants. They arrested me. I was sent back. I found another group of rastafarii but they were white rastas and were going to Colombia. I worked for them silently till one day all of them were killed by a few Columbians. Then I got wacked again for insulting the Columbians. Then I woke up in my own backyard. I don't know why, I didn't ask why. Papa said I arrived just like you did, in a FedEx box. Now we have two FedEx boxes in the house and we don't have places to keep them."

"Why do you want to keep FedEx boxes?"

"Because I love FedEx boxes. I ran away from home because they threw away two small FedEx envelopes and one medium FedEx box. Now they know better than throw away two nice huge FedEx boxes."

"Ok."

By now our hero had started discodancing to latino music. All the women started laughing at him and all the men mocked. There was but one woman, Julia who stood far behind the stage and was staring at this weird half-mexican man in a fedora and black overcoat, dancing in weird disco steps to the fabulous salsa music. She was turned on by his dance steps. He suddenly noticed her blushing as he danced. He went there and asked her to the dance floor. She readily agreed and started performing her hot salsa moves on his discoing body. Soon enough they danced their way into one of those small warehouses where they kept lots of hay like it is shown in every western movie that shows a Mexican town. There're barrels of tequila and lots of grass. It's obvious about what happened next. He asked her if she was married, she lied. They then drank tequila and he said how he found latina women hot. He kept talking and talking. She suddenly felt that this was an insult and they were supposed to be having hot indian sex in that warehouse. She didn't spend time performing those hot salsa moves for nothing, at least not for a dumb disco dancer! So...

Wack!

This time around when he came to he saw a lot of black people crowding in to see inside a FedEx box. It was his FedEx box, his anime-brochure on his lap. One white guy came in as he slips from between the huge black hiphop urban homies. He picked up the brochure as our man was trying to crawl out of the box. He started laughing. He showed it to the other men around him, they started laughing too. Our man turned to them and asked, "What's your problem, dude?"

Wack!

He comes to inside a dark club where the bassline's bursting with hiphop beats and black rappers rapping extempore, "Hey everybody come to 313!"

(to be continued)