As I took my seat at the taco stand I heard, “Hey, Mr. Dennis.”
It was Mario, my sometimes yard man, and his friend Juan. They ordered their food and sat at the big picnic table.
“Juan! You don’t fix the boards on the step of the screen door like I told you. You do them as soon as you get home. Don’t even think about watching football or going out drinking with your friends.”
Juan’s wife, Dolores, had tracked him down. She called him a few choice names before she left.
“All that woman ever do is bitch at me.” Juan said. “I wish I could get rid of her.’
“Why don’t you kill her the legal way?” Mario asked. “If women get too much love it will kill them.”
“Really?”
“Yes. All you got to so is to make love to that woman three or four times a day for a while and she won’t be able to take it. It will kill her and nobody would know what happened.”
Yesterday as I sat on the deck at the Holiday Hotel I heard, “Hey, Mr. Dennis.”
It was Juan walking with his wife down the beach.
“I’m going to sit with Mr. Dennis a while,” he told his wife.
“O.K., mi amor,” she said, as she left. “Have a couple of beers and come home in time for the football game.”
I said, “Juan, I’m glad to see that you and Dolores made up and everything seems to be going well.”
“What you talking about?”
“Dolores looks happier than I have ever seen her.”
“I feel kind of bad for her,” Juan said. “That woman don’t know she only got a few more days to live.”
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