Runs with Cracker on Back

Some time back, McDougal suggested, “Bonnie, what say we trek out to Vegas to clear our heads for a few days?”

I say “some time back” because I don't know what day it is ... or even what month it might be for sure. I think we left on a Tuesday in early September or maybe it was August, but I'm not even certain of that anymore. I say “Bonnie” because that's what McDougal elected to call me on this trip.

Who the hell goes to Vegas to clear his head? That's like going to Colombia for some peace and quiet.

Which is where we're headed now.

I am riding on the back of an old Indian as I type this -- McDougal's idea. He said he wanted to ride Indians to Colombia to get away from the mob. This was the first I'd heard about the mob even being after us. Wich I'm actually not overly concerned about. If there's anywhere a man might feel safe from the mob, it's whilst traveling across Central America with McDougal. The man knows the land like the inside of a Chinaman's asshole and has more connections here than Kirstie Alley has doughnuts hidden in her neckfat rolls.

“You think maybe we could get some sportbikes instead of those old Indians?” I asked McDougal.

“Old? Our iIndians will be young. Eighteen maybe 20 years old tops.”

I started to explain to McDougal that 20 is pretty old for a motorcycle, when I realized he wasn't talking about bikes at all.

“Bonnie, I'd like you to meet Runs With Cracker on Back – your driver.”

Runs with Cracker on Back and I shook hands, then I climbed aboard and we started our trek southward from the New York, New York Casino to Bogota.

McDougal says the mob will lose our scent if we remain on the Indians' backs until we get across the southern border of Mexico. I think Runs with Cracker on Back is up for the challenge, but McDougal (who you know is a rather large man -- and by large, I mean big like a king size mattress stuffed full of scuba tanks and Pampers) has killed half a dozen of them so far. They just can't handle the load, the poor bastards.

I feel duty-bound at this point to ride this thing out with McDougal. Though I only met him the day before we embarked on this journey. The exact events leading to my departure are hazy, and I am still unsure of whether I am a captive or an accomplice. I am, however, too afraid to ask for clarification on the matter.

Besides .... now is not the time.

Yonder comes the mob. And their armed with ... wait ... what the hell is that?