Spatial Reasoning

"Gutter..." said El Saguaro, leaning against a heavily graffitied wall. "Where's the writer?"

 

A flurry of yellow taxicabs, resale value ruined by thousands of scraped stickers, raced through the slog of Mexicali at the sight of a broken green signal. A pair of stained blue sneakers swayed in the breeze above the bustling junction, a mark of the cartel's bounds. On the other side laid The Ring's territory, a slump of earthquake-ridden high rises.

 

"You know better than messing with The Ring," Gutter replied, sipping on a light margarita. He was clothed in a short cut Hawaiian shirt to match his short, stout, and muscular body. "They'll get to Ron before the CIA realizes."

 

"If we team up," Saguaro flipped out a bulky envelope, "Everyone will get a punch at the Devil."

 

"Saguaro, you're funny." Gutter chuckled. "You're just a lone cactus; you look spiky and scary on the outside, but you're soft and weak on the inside. And wet, like my last girlfriend." He glanced at his teal 1972 Ford Mustang Mach 1. It returned a happy, yet angry glance. The fastback looked just like him. 

 

"I'm in."

 

Gutter strolled away with a mean look and hopped into the bright Mustang, followed by a bumbling Mike and Laura, and jetted off with a roar. He threw out a card, the Ace of Spades, scribbled with "twelve-thirty" in black Sharpie.

 

"Who was your girlfriend?" asked Mike.

 

"I don't know," Gutter said. "She had an exotic name. Satan, I think."

 

"Or Satan-ette," Laura suggested, drunk wearing yet another floral blouse. 

 

Two white Toyota pickup trucks, headlights beaming, crouched on a nearby hillside. On one of them stood a man, leaning against a rung on the truck's rear bed, a sniper rifle in hand. He shifted, trying to get a good shot amidst the setting desert sun. 

 

A shot punctured the rear windshield of the Mustang. It was a loud pop, followed by the audible re-racking of the rifle, which echoed off the concrete freeway. A bright sign, caught like a deer in the headlights, glinted in the distance. "Welcome to California."

 

"If there you could rename a state, what state would it be?" Laura asked, peering out the window.

 

"California," Mike said. "I'd rename it to 'Californ-Not."

 

"Boy," Gutter muttered, "You really sucked the fun out of that one." He grinned. 

 

-

 

Written by Jerry Zervas on 5/29/26.

DO NOT USE UNLESS GIVEN PERMISSION BY ME (i.e. email me)