Mamma Mia Here We Go Again

Mamma Mía Here We Go Again                                             

There's a persistent knock at my door. I should characterize it as more of a pounding than a knock. It's 2:19 a.m. and I don't have to guess who would be so rude, so impatient as to disrupt and disturb me at this hour. I'm sure of the identity of the intruder and he must be off his meds. I open the door without asking the person outside to identify himself.

"Oh good Bigotes you are awake. I hope I'm not interrupting anything? Listen, I need your help to get revenge on the Jamaicans that ripped me off last month. I know where they are staying. Can you come with me now?"  Johnny Rico asks while pushing his way into my apartment.

Johnny has been a friend for nine years now. We are partners in the import-export business.

I'm sure he's clinically insane but has always watched my back and is the only person I trust in the entire world.

"Ya got any beer?" He says as he makes his way to the refrigerator.

"Are you for real? It's almost 2:30 in the morning and you want me to head out on some revenge-capade to get back at some Jamaicans for a couple hundred dollars? Are you insane? Of course you are, what a ludicrous question." I holler.

"So what do you say Bigotes?" He whines.

"Hold on, let me get some clothes on and do a bump!" I surrender.

I keep asking myself over and over what possesses me to become an active

participant in these deranged and demented acts of psychosis? I've never been able to find an answer.

"Hey carnal grab your Glock. Just in case things get out of control. Ya know, some insurance. "

"Hey J.R. I'm really starting to not enjoy this scenario. Guns? What are you planning to accomplish? And I want a rational answer. No off the wall psycho babble." I say in a stern voice.

I can see in his eyes that he's riding The BiPolar Express.

"I just want those Caribbean Chulos to know who they're dealing with. They can't come to Colombia, my country and disrespect me. These Rastamen need to learn a lesson." Johnny screams.

"So now you're a teacher giving lessons? In what, Johnny's brand of Street justice? Listen, I will accompany you on this mission of restoring your pride, but no killing anything twice. Do you understand?"

"I don't want it to come to that, but if it happens, I gotta do what I gotta do. Now let's go ! They have a house in Barrio Los Lomas." 

I cautiously get in the Oso Rojo (red bear) a monstrous automobile and I'm swallowed up by the plush seat. Johnny bought this 1974 Buick LeSabre from some corrupt Federal Police at an incredibly discounted price. It's blood red with a white convertible top. You'd have a difficult time going unnoticed in this "Oversized Pimpmobile." He had a Dodge Duster prior to this impulsive purchase which wasn't as high profile and drew very little attention. The Duster became a victim of one of Johnny's psychotic episodes after a three day Cocaine binge. It was accompanied by a case of Scotch and a vast array of prescription medications he pilfered from the last Psychiatric Hospital where 

he resided for a week. They demanded him to leave, they'd had enough of "His Riconess." He drove the Duster into a concrete retaining wall near the beach. Then in a bizarre ritual to some ancient God, he set the car on fire. The Duster was beyond restoration and never did rise from the ashes. There was no resurrecting the Duster. He left it right there in the middle of the highway and never looked back.

"So carnal, what's the plan? You have some idea of how you're going to address this offensive?" I ask.

"Not really. I thought I would leave it up to you. You are so good at figuring out how to put together a plan of attack."

 We arrive at the house where the suspects reside and surprisingly they're still awake. We can see them partying inside through some large sliding glass doors . The music is blaring and you can hear them laughing ,talking and see them dancing around.

"What the hell is that music they are listening to? That's not ABBA is it? Is that ABBA?                       You said these were Rastamen. Big bad Rastamen set me up and ripped me off. That's what you told me." I say imitating a whimpering child.

 "That's how you described what happened RICO! Where's their dreadlocks and Bob Marley Reggae Music Mon? No self respecting Rastafarian would be 

listening to ABBA! Ya know what I think Johnny Rico? I surmise you met these cabrons at that Gay Disco Club in downtown Cartagena and attempted to rip them off. 

That's exactly what happened isn't it? They got the drop on you.” I tease.

"Callate cabron! That's not what happened. You know I go to the club for the music. It doesn't matter how it went down. Those pinches stole my money, my coca and my watch. You're making me angry Bigotes. You better stop making fun of me. Thought you're my friend, my carnal?" He says.

He's irritated and truly upset. Johnny isn't one for practical jokes or being the subject of ridicule.

"Well how are we going to lure them outside? It's not like they're going to offer us an invitation to come inside for a cocktail." I say chuckling.

"Think it's still funny? I've got a way to get inside. Hold on Bigotes!" Johnny hollers.

 Before I'm able to develop a plan on how we're going to enter the house, Johnny backs up the Monstrous Red Road Schooner, revs the engine, then slams the shifter into drive. With tires squealing we head toward the arcadia glass doors at an accelerated velocity.

"Johnny you psychopath! You're going to kill both of us!" I yelp in a high pitched scream.

"Invitation? We don't need no stinking invitation!" He yells.       

Within seconds the Red Road Schooner, like a Transformer, morphs into an armored tank and makes impact with the door and section of the block wall. I watch the Jamaicans scurry out of the way into safety. The sound of glass shattering and furniture being demolished echoes loudly and takes me to a fever pitch. Johnny slams on the brakes and Oso Rojo stops short of the wall on the other side of the room.

"Come on Bigotes!" Johnny yells.

He pulls out his antique .38 police special revolver and starts firing off rounds toward the room where the Jamaicans have taken refuge. In all the years I've known my lunatic sidekick I've never seen him shoot that pistol.

"Bigotes cover me!" He commands.

"Mamma Mia, here I go again. My my how can I resist you. Mamma mia" 

The bizarre soundtrack accompanies us still playing on the stereo adding to the already surreal atmosphere. My gun has found my hand and I squeeze off a few rounds. I take aim at the stereo and kill the damn thing. The music was agitating the hell out of me.

"I hate ABBA!" I scream.

 Johnny is yelling insults in Spanish demanding the Jamaicans show themselves. 

They begin throwing out money along with a couple of watches. I shoot at a large mirror that almost covers the entire wall. Pieces come crashing down on top of Johnny where he's crawling crablike on the floor picking up the cash and watches.

"¿Cabrón que haces pendejo?" 

He grabs a brass lamp and returns to the car. We jump inside the enormous automobile covered with glass and drywall debris. I fire off a couple of more rounds at a picture of women with baskets of tropical fruit on their heads."Let's get the hell outta here Rico." 

"Wait, I want something."

"Johnny, whatcha doing? Come on venga!" I plead.

He exits Oso Rojo and runs to a picture hanging on the far wall. It's one of those grotesque velvet paintings of Marilyn Monroe or possibly Madonna. He shoves the ugly painting in the back seat, breaking the wooden frame. The car has been idling the entire time and the room is filled with exhaust making it 

difficult to breathe."

Johnny Rico has left the building!" He screams.

He grinds the shifter into reverse and the mighty big car pulls out crushing whatever rubble we created during our entrance. I notice Johnny's face and arms are bleeding caused by pieces of the mirror I destroyed that had landed on top of him. They're not large cuts, just small punctures. He stops the Red Bear on the street and we get out to clean the remains of wreckage laying on the hood and roof. I notice neighbors on their porches and also watching out their windows. I smile and wave at the spectators.

"Those are very bad people. They molested my cousin and she's only ten years old." I tell the crowd in Spanish.

 Some folks start applauding our dirty deed. An old man yells out, 

"We didn't see or hear anything. God bless you."

We jump back in the Red Beast and head back toward my apartment.

"Hey Rico whatcha say we put the top down , grab some beers, park at the beach and watch the sunrise? Sound like a plan?" I suggest.

"What did I say before? You always know how to make a situation better. Always suggesting the perfect idea. Ya carnal let's do that." 

We reach the beach and sit in the Red Whale not saying a word. 

"I love you carnal. You are more than family." Johnny declares breaking the silence.

"Ya I know man. I know. We're quite a pair you and me. Our antics would make a great movie or book."

"I want Joe Pesci to be me in the movie."

" If the time comes, you make that request."

"I haven't counted the plata." Johnny whispers.

He plunges his hand into his pocket and produces a wad of bills and throws it on the console between the seats. He puts his hand in the other front pocket and again a fistful of bills appears.

"Hijo de puta! Look Bigotes we got a lot back." He says giggling like a child.

After he finished counting the booty, he let out a yell that I'm sure could be heard in Bogota.

"There's over $1,700." He sings.

"That's in Colombian pesos J,R. It converts into what, about twenty three dollars in American money." I comment sarcastically.

"No carnal that is in American money after doing the change." He says.

Here hermano, take some. You helped me in one of my crazy schemes again. You are always there for me when I need a friend. Here tomé I want you to have this!" 

I accepted his generous offering and later discovered he gave me over seven hundred dollars.

"Thanks carnal I appreciate your generosity. A toast to a friendship made to last long after forever." I proclaim.

Our beer cans clank to the declaration of friendship toast.

"Hey Bigotes take the lamp too. It would look good in your home. I think maybe in your bedroom to replace that ugly lamp with all the flowers.   

And a watch for you and a watch for me. A reminder of our adventure in the Big Red Bear." Johnny says proudly.

"Thanks carnal, I'm just relieved we made it out alive, ya lunatic."    

I look closely at the watch and notice it's a Louis Moinet, an incredibly expensive timepiece. I strap it on my wrist and stare at the second hand ticking my life away.

And there we stayed until the Sun had bled every bit of crimson colored light into the 

morning. Two displaced souls searching for directions to a destination that neither were

sure existed.. 

  "Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter.

 Little darling it seems like years since it's been here

 Sun, sun, sun here it comes."  

The Beatles.

In case you were wondering, the grotesque velvet painting, Madonna!

'Hey Johnny, I want you to know something."

"What do you want me to know?"

"I'm never going out with you again."