Donato, I knew that you were not for real. You are not a real man. A real man would not cry when a Federalista put a gun to his head. I did not cry. You are no fisherman. A fisherman would not cry. Only a real man can be a fisherman. Oh yes, you have tattoos like a real man, but I have seen many maricons with tattoos. I have seen many fishermen in my lifetime in Vera Cruz and Rosarito. I have heard that you do not catch fishes, but dust bunnies. Perhaps that is how you found Alien, looking for dust bunnies under the bed. Under Marisleysis bed. You are a house cleaner! A woman's job. My wife cleans the house. She does not catch fishes. And you cannot keep a wife! You have been married 4 times. What woman can be married to a man that cleans houses. What is left for her to do? Perhaps she fishes? Perhaps she met a real man fishing. I do not believe that you danced with a woman in a cemetary. It must have been a man dressed as a woman. And it was dark. I have seen many of those types of man in Vera Cruz on the promenade. Some are very beautiful. I can understand how you can be mistaken. I almost was. But a real man would know the difference between a man and a woman very quickly, especially if you are dancing the rhumba. Once you put your hand on her beautiful, big round nalgita and wide hips, you know you are with a woman. Perhaps you are tooting a little too much toot from your fishing nets. Oh, I'm sorry, you do not fish. Maybe you sniff too much lemon pledge and get dizzy. And poor, poor Alien. He is in love with Marisleysis. You cry what has American done to that little boy. What have you and that crazy crack puta done to that little boy?
You cerdo man-woman! Hombre itchbay! Pocho y Puto! You lie! You take de liberties with Donato de Fisherman! I write your name on my balls! I show you who ees man.In Bera Cruz, you have never seen a bera Pescador--ees not possible. The solamente feesh of Bera Cruz is the snapper the size of a fritos and they come out of the ocean mixed with puddles of mercury in their scales. Why you think they always mixing the huachinanga beracruzana with all those feelthy American begetables in all the best restaurants? No bero pescador would ever try his luck in such a pathetic village.Another ting. I clean no house for Marisleysis, no not that either. Juno, juan time she say I should stay with her because Iyam the finder of her second cousin once removed and potential profit center. So I go inside and I find her nose is like a shopvac for the bolivian powder that made the Incas such strong ones. I stay only to try to make poor Alien happy. I abandon no child, never, not one who has a chance to make the mucho dinero that Alien had. But in that house I am Senor. At one point I tell Marisleysis to use her nose like shopvac on the dust bunnies. It ees no shame to cry for the most loco family south of Orlando. Oh, and BdW, I know your wife she clean your own house, yes, e vero. She tell me. She lick me bery clean too. She also told me that she cut down the mystery dance with you to twice a month. But you should not feel bad--because some hombres she cut out entirely.Bueno, it is hard to tell sometimes the senors from the senoras of Bera Cruz. And how do you know dis? Pero, it is you who are craving the man-woman yourself, no? You and your hungry wife and your jearly bisits to the Bois du Boulogne. I theenk you look too much at the promenade de Bera Cruz.The feesh they are yumping. I must--get--back.Donato Pescador
Ey, cabron, you can insult me all you want, but do not insult my woman. If it was not for the federalistas, you would never have come out of the closet. Of course you want to show me your balls. You are a maricon. Your nipples are probably pierced. You live in south Miami. You sleep with the little boy in the same bed and brain wash him with Disney cartoons. You make him think he is a little lion and you are a big lion. You let him lick your face. You let him clean your face with his tongue. You are the sick mierda. And anyway, you don't speak spanglish. Go back to your New Yersey and eat your haggis and spaghetti and meat balls and bagels. Your quinze minutos are over hombre. Maybe when you are hanging out in your Key West, you may find a Haitian floating by. Maybe he lick your face. Vera Cruz has many beautiful women and men. They dance the rhumba all night long in the thick hot, humid air in the cantinas along the promenade. How can you talk bad about a place you have not been. And our huachinango is polluted because of you gringos throwing your cruise ship garbage out and a few cubans washing up that you threw back in. Don't you know the current brings them right onto the beach? If the weather is bad they may end up in Campeche or Progresso but it is usually in Vera Cruz. Where I took my children to go fishing, but no more. And now you go on that white puerto rican Jeraldo's show. I will throw tomatoes at my television. You are another Kato. Next thing you know you will be replacing Danny Bonaduci on the radio. And get a new haircut.
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