Monday, March 21, 2011

Symptomatic 5

As soon as I had a chance to look at a map and actually realized where I was, I quickly made a change in plans, and decided my itinerary must perforce take me through the state of Chiapas to its capitol Tuxtla Gutierrez. Mexico City would have to wait a while, and even at that, I figured I’d have to pick up a little work along the way if I wanted to survive. Little did I know there were few if any opportunities for an empty-headed stranger such as myself that would pay any kind of money I could live on. In my research, I’d come upon a memorable old black and whiter from the 1940s wherein a shady businessman on the lam pretended to be a teacher in order to hide out in a little town far away from the pursuit of his nemesis, a friend he had grown up with who had joined the police force, and I thought I could probably get away with something like that. Sure, he had the woman between them on his side alerting him to the cop’s progress over her radio show, and I didn’t even have anyone chasing me, yet, but I was up to a little subterfuge to add spice to my adventure, so it seemed like the way to go.

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