Thursday, October 20, 2005

The Gravitational Force Between Two Objects... inversely proportional to the distance between those objects, Newton might try to tell you, but on this night, it seemed that the physical laws of the universe did not apply. There we were, having just emerged from the depths of the MFK stinky, filthy, ravenous and exhausted, ordering burritos from a young Latino named Angelo. His namesakes’ 24-hour taqueria had been like a shimmering oasis amidst the desert of closed eateries this Fresno night. We sat down and began devouring our hot re-refried bean feasts with our eyes barely cracked enough to see our plates when, simultaneously, we all felt the enormous force pulling at our attentions from across the dining room. And there they were, the most humungous tatas on this side of the sierras, sitting aloft the chest of young Latina muy bella. Like the peaks that had drawn us to this side of the continent, they gripped our stares with their sexual gravity. Besides the occasional under the breath, oh my god, no one spoke a word, but sat there stuffing our faces, locked in by the massive fertility symbols. She was obviously with her boyfriend, but no one cared after being in the wilderness for five days. We were happy to be alive and to be able to enjoy such a lust. We finished up and slowly began filtering out the door, trying to come up with excuses to stay within there presence just a moment longer (oops I left my napkin on the table, better clean up that mess). As we stand around outside trying to figure out how all six of us fit into that four door Dakota, we hear a voice behind us:
Boyfriend of Beauty: “You guys staying at the marinas?” (so it sounded to us)
Tubes: “No, we just ran the Middle Kings, we’re going home.”
Boyfriend: blank stare
Us: blank stare
Boyfriend: puzzled look and Spanish murmur
Us: blank stare
Boyfriend: “No, you been starin at my girls, essay!”
Broiler: “Naw man, she was staring at us”
Boyfriend: “I don’t think so holmes, she says you was starin at her!”
Us: blank stare
Us thinking to ourselves: “I wonder if this guy has a gun. Hmmmmm, maybe we should go.”
Broiler: “Well, I guess we’ll be going.”
Boyfriend: Spanish murmur
And so we left and drove all night, just to miss our flight home, but that is another story altogether...

1 comment:

Randy Rodson said...

you guys are fucking awesome!