Buster and the rest of the Livin’ and Dyin’ in 3/4 Time Boys were having a few laughs at Ronny’s expense, after he had shown up with scratches from head to toe from taking a header over the handlebars of his bicycle the night before, and crashing into Mahahual’s largest landmark, the lighthouse.
“Wait a second,” chuckled Buster. “Do you mean to tell me you couldn’t see the lighthouse. That is the highest structure this side of the Cancun airport’s control tower. You could not have been so drunk you could both ride a bike and not see the lighthouse.”
“Yea, it was kinda weird now that you mention it,” said Ronny. “It was dark though, or it sure seemed that way, but I could see the thing coming, even told myself, ‘Ronny, you’re gonna run into the lighthouse’ and dang if I didn’t do it. That El Compadre your were forcing down me is evil. Smoothest evil I ever drank, but evil all the same.”
“Hey, I didn’t force anything down you. I will admit, it was my mistake to put you in charge of the bottle though. I noticed you filled your glass every time you filled someone else’s. Oh, and just so you know, there are lights all along the malecon, especially around the lighthouse. Hell, Ray Charles could have seen the damn thing.”
“And he’s both blind and dead?” added Rick.
“Exactly my point!” laughed Buster.
About that time, Rick grinned and said, “Hey Buster. Looks like your old amigo Pancho Mancho is back on your beach again. At least he hasn’t started singing, so he isn’t really freaking out any of the tourist, yet.”
And with that Buster turned and let out a long sigh and focused his glare on Pancho, one of the harmless but annoying town drunks who just a week earlier, Buster had asked very nicely, after he had sobered up, to not return to his beach again drunk and bother the tourists. Pancho had agreed to of course and here it was, barely a week later, and he was once again staggering drunk and offering to help two ladies finish their ceviche and sour cream chicken enchiladas. Buster stood up and said, “No more Mister Nice Guy.”
“Hold on Buster,” warned Giles. “You know what happened last time you tossed a drunk. Now that was a funny one. Oh, we could only be so lucky to have a repeat of that performance.” He looked at Ronny, who had not been around for that little show, and said, “Boracho Luis did the same thing and Buster went right up to the table, grabbed Luis and lifted him over his head and walked out into the ocean and tossed him about 10 feet out further into the water. That little shit was so drunk he almost drowned and we had about 5 customers out in the ocean trying to find Luis and pull him onto shore. Buster got hauled into jail for that little stunt and had to serve a lot of free police meals for a while. It was pretty funny though!”
“Haha, very funny. Except when it is your restaurant. This chump’s gotta go,” and with that Buster stormed over to Pancho. As he approached he noticed Pancho had a huge bottle of Cane Rum, the choice of most of the town borachos and could be purchased almost anywhere for about $3 for a big plastic jug of the stuff.
“Pancho, I thought we had a deal and you were going to leave my guests alone. Get out of here and leave these people alone.”
“Pinche Gringo. I am Mexican, you are Gringo, this is Mexico. You can’t throw me off my own beach.”
“Got you on that one Gringo” came the howl from the Livin’ and Dyin’ Boys, who knew that the beaches belong to the people of Mexico, even Pancho. A gringo tossing a Mexican from a beach, even a drunk one, is a bit of a politically incorrect hot potato, and Buster of course knew that very well. Now!
And with that, Buster quickly grabbed the jug of rum from Pancho’s hand and said, “Okay, Pancho, you want this bottle back? You gotta come and get it.” He waved the bottle in front of Pancho and took a couple steps back. “On second thought, maybe I’ll just pour this out right here and we’ll just call it done, how about that Pancho.”
The fear of God came into the face of Pancho and as fast as his macho nationalism had flared, so too did his whinny, soft white underbelly immediately show itself. “Oh no, Senior Buster. It was all just a joke. I was just about to leave. Por favor Senior Buster, no vierta mi ron!”
No sooner had the words left Panchos mouth when Buster began to slowly pour a small amount of the Rum onto the beach. “NO SENIOR BUSTER!!!” cried Pancho.
“Okay Pancho, here is the deal,” said Buster, tossing the bottle’s cap to Pancho, but keeping the bottle. “Since I want you off my beach, and you said I can’t toss you off, which I can’t, I’m going to make you leave on your own. And in a hurry too. Comprede este amigo? Yes you do. Now I’m going to throw this bottle as far as I can and if you want to save any of it at all, you are going to need to hurry. Ready, set go.” And with that, he wound up for the mighty toss, with Pancho looking on in terror. But he stopped just as Pancho was about to bolt, and he instead, gently tossed the bottle to Pancho.
“Pancho, usted es un pinche culero!” And in his best Spanish, Buster began to chew out Pancho and at the same time tell him, these people worked very hard to save their money to come to Mexico to relax. They did not come here to listen to his drunken show. None of that made a bit of difference actually to Pancho in the end. Buster might as well have been talking to a coco tree. What mattered was that he got his bottle back and that this gringo must be kinda Mexican at this point, kinda sounded that way at least, so he decided to leave. And after saying he was sorry, “Lo siento chicas. Lo siento Senior Buster”, he and his bottle walked away.
Buster smoothed everything with the two ladies, a couple of fresh pina coladas and the story of when he tossed Luis into the ocean was all it took to get all laughing, and he returned to the Livin’ and Dyin’ in ¾ Time Boys where a round of cold Montejos was being delivered to the table.
“These are on Ronny,” announced Giles. “He bet you were going to toss Pancho in the ocean.”
Buster laughed and said, “No, feeding the cops is too expensive. Those guys can eat!”
And with that, Buster toasted, “To Ronny and Pancho, today anyway, my favorite and least favorite town drunks. Saludos!”