SUICIDE AIN'T SO PAINLESS

I wake up and drive downtown to Lucio's Café for breakfast. I'm a regular and the waitresses take a personal interest in me. They think I possess supernatural powers because I'm a writer. I try to convince them that the only powers I possess are the ones that get me in trouble, but they don't accept my explanations.

They fill my cup with coffee and my mind with sweet nothings. I appreciate their admiration because they are the sole women who presently flirt with me. I've been wondering how I suddenly became old.

I read the Herald on-line. Estanislao Contreras, Brownsville's most eligible married man until his wife dragged him into court and reduced him to the border's poorest bachelor, compared the newspaper's contemporary appearance to his ex-spouses's. He remembered her coming home with a new hairstyle. For a brief moment there was a spark of interest, but a few hours later he found himself screwing the same cadaver he had been screwing for the last decade.

El Bravo is my morning literature. A suicide highlights the crime section. An unhappy soul chose to exit the same way he entered the world--in his birthday suit.

Dr. Polyphemous Pangloss informed me that at the instant of death via hanging a man ejaculates. Estanislao, who has joined me, says he prefers the old standby of coming and going at the same time atop a woman.