Too Much Tequila, Too Little Sunscreen

I’m anxious to get to California and rescue Josefina but I feel like I shouldn’t leave Phoenix without checking on Chui one more time. I let Boner sleep in and drive back to the sheriff’s office. As I’m entering the building I run into the female deputy that was such a pain in the ass when she arrested us.

“What are you doing here and where’s your friend?”

“Good morning deputy. I’ve come to look in on my friend, the one you so affectionately called ‘beaner’ when you mistakenly arrested us the other day. My other friend is resting after a …”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I was merely answering the questions you posed rather than …”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“It is nice seeing you again, deputy. I’ll be on my way. You have a nice …”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m interested in talking to your friend a bit more. I was doing my paperwork and have a couple more questions for what’s his name.”

“His name is simply Boner ― Boner with no last name kinda like Cher or Oprah. Of course both of those ladies have last names but we don’t need to add them to their instantly identifiable first …”

“Shut the fuck up! Where is Boner by the way?” she continues.

“As I said earlier, he’s resting. If you’ll excuse me I have to check on my friend, Chui. You see Boner and I were released the morning after you mistakenly arrested us but Chui …”

“Shut the fuck up!”

She surely has a one-track mind or a very limited vocabulary or possibly a very low tolerance for bull…

She interrupts my pondering with her patented, “Shut the fuck up!” and adds, “I’ll make a deal with you. You tell me where Boner’s at and I’ll deliver your friend, Chui to that address at one o’clock this afternoon so you two can chat while I question Boner for an hour or so. Deal?”

“Deal. We’re at the Palms Motel on Indian School Road in rooms 26 and 27. I’d like to remind you that we were released without charges and further harassment of my friend will be viewed as …”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’ll see you at one.”

She pulls into the parking space directly in front of my room at one on the nose. She has Chui in the back seat in his prison stripes and pink underwear. She bounces from the car, opens the rear door for Chui, helps him to his feet, turns him around and removes his handcuffs. She grabs his upper arm like cops tend to do and leads/drags him to the door to my room and knocks.

“Good afternoon Deputy, I admire promptness in a person. I was just saying to …”

“Shut the fuck up! Here’s your pal, knock yourselves out. Now where is your hard-peckered friend?”

“He’s next door in room 27 waiting for you. I’d like to remind you again that my friend is not a suspect or a person of interest in any …”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

Chui is glad to see me and thrilled to be out of Sheriff Joe’s tent-city jail. I give him a hug, hand him a beer and offer him a seat in the room’s only chair. “So how did they treat you, my man?”

“That place really sucks, Señor Bob, It’s colder than a witch’s tit in that tent at night and hotter than hell during the day. We have no TV other than Disney and the fucking Weather channel. We can’t smoke, there’s no coffee and yesterday they fed us green baloney on moldy bread for lunch. Is that anyway to treat honest prisoners?”

“Sheriff Joe is known throughout the U.S. for his harsh treatment of prisoners. In fact, he’s been called the toughest sheriff in the …”

“Yeah, but what are we going to do about me? Let’s blow this joint as soon as we can get Boner out from under deputy what’s-her-name.”

“That’s a good idea. Get out of that prison uniform. I’ve got something for you to wear.” I say as I pull the Humpty Dumpty costume from the closet.

“You want me to put on that egg getup?”

“It’ll just be until we can get to a store. An egg, unusual as it may be, is a much better look than your current look, that of an escaped convict.”

“Okay, I see your point.”

Chui gets suited up while I load all my stuff into the car. I want to be able to leave the minute Boner finishes with Deputy Shut-the-fuck-up. An hour passes; we have another beer and finally its two hours. I’m ready to knock on his door when Boner sneaks quietly into my room holding his forefinger in front of his lips panting “shhhhh” through the biggest grin he’s had yet.

“Are you ready to leave?” I whisper to Boner.

“Ndiyo, lakini nini kuhusu hili?” He answers raising his left hand to show a handcuff dangling from his wrist.

“I’ll go next door and get the key.”

“Kuwa makini, mwanamke hiyo ni tiger.”

“I’ll be as quiet as I can. Give me your room key and wish me luck.”

Luck doesn’t seem to be required. It takes a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the dark room. Then I see her, Deputy Shut-the-fuck-up, lying spread-eagle on the bed with all of the blankets and covers on the floor at her feet. She’s not bad looking in a muscular kind of way. She has the figure of a wrestler, the ring type rather than the much preferred mud type. I tiptoe up to her. Her eyes are wide open giving her a look of death rather than that of sleep. Oh shit, what if she’s dead?

I’m paralyzed either from fear or from the shock of her show-everything spread-eagle pose. I’ve got to check her pulse but where. A woman’s heart is above or below her left breast? I’m not sure so I gently lay my hand on her breast. It feels warm. That’s a good sign. I start caressing her wonderfully full breast when it dawns on me that I should be checking for a pulse and not playing with her tit. Her left nipple is erect. Is “erect” the right word? Anyway, I take that as another good sign and place my hand just above her breast. I think I feel a thump–thump but my own heart is beating so fast that I’m not sure if it’s her thump-thump or my thump-thump.

What’ll I do now? I could put a mirror to her mouth, if I had a mirror. I could put my ear to her chest or I could probe around for other pulse-taking points. That might be fun but I’m not sure how effective it would be. The nurse in my doctor’s office always takes my pulse by holding my wrist while she stares at her watch for a couple of minutes. Then she writes something on a scrap of paper. Will this technique work without a watch, a pencil or any paper? It’s worth a try. I pick up her arm and hold her wrist. I expect her to jump up and yell “shut the fuck up” even though I’m not saying anything. Okay, I think this is working, I can feel something; I think it’s a weak pulse but a pulse none the less. Hooray, she’s alive.

I take one more look at her. Her wide-eyed stare is eerie as hell but the huge, really huge, smile on her face is the telling sign. She may be alive but she’s resting in peace just the same. Now where would she put her keys? I find them in her trouser pockets and tiptoe out of the room. Sleep tight dear Deputy Shut-the-fuck-up.

Chui knows how handcuffs work and soon has Boner unshackled. We’re ready to roll but what should we do with the deputy’s keys? I can return them to her and get another look, or I can just keep them as a souvenir ― you never know when you’re going to need a key to cuffs ― I know, I’ll lock them in her squad car. Then she’ll think that she locked them in herself in all of her pre-Boner excitement and not suspect us of any tomfoolery. She’ll have to retrieve her keys with a coat hanger ― I wonder if law enforcement professionals use coat hangers like the rest of us. Whatever, it will surely slow down her pursuit or her radioing in.

“Sisi ni Outta hapa!”