El Merde Bandit
Pitch black, there was the world to see yet none of it was reaching my eyes. All other sounds were just white noise underneath the rhythm of me breathing in and out. I was being guided by someone, but all physical sensations were dulled by my lack of sight. Breathe in, I was gripped by my shoulders and jerked down to the ground, breathe out. My cloth hood was ripped off with a flourish and I took a moment to adjust to the bright desert sun. The smell of cheap French perfume wafted in to replace the stale air, I immediately knew it was him. It was the man who had taken so much from me, El Merde Bandit.
“Hola, you American pig-shit,” Bandit said in a French accent. “You have arrived to ze humble abode,” he said gesturing to the endless red desert, “And you insult me by bringing your stench here, you dirty little caca.”
“You done?” I replied.
We stared at each other, I tried scan his face for any sign of readable emotion under his comically huge moustache. His face remained completely still, until it crinkled into a smile, and then into uproarious laughter.
“My compadre, how did you even find me?” he said in between fits of laughter. “I am in ze middle of nowhere, a little pinprick on ze map, you even knew about my policy on being blindfolded, you are an impressive little rodent.” He struck a match, letting the pieces hit me in the face and he popped a cigarette in his mouth. I climbed to my feet and clenched my fists.
“You know why I’m here, It’s the only reason I’m here,” I said, moving closer, “Where…is…my…dog.”
“You will get your little pitbull in time”
“It’s a corgi, I’m actually very concerned you can’t tell the difference,” I said, confused.
“SILENCIO,” he screamed, tearing his cigarette in half, “I do not need to know ze difference between dogs, all I need to know is ze sound of fat stacks hitting my desk, now make with ze money and your dog shall be returned.” I chuckled. “What is ze meaning of zis noise?” he asked.
“Your reputation precedes you,” I said.
He looked away from me, “Zat it does.”
“In fact, I already knew you had a thing for ransoming dogs; I assume you’ve hit half the town already.”
He looked at me and furrowed his brow, “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying…” I paused ”…THERE’S A FUCKING BOMB IN MY DOG.” I screamed, holding my phone detonator in the air.
“¡Jesucristo!” he yelled, stepping backwards from me.
“IF YOU DON’T WANT YOUR WHOLE BASE GOING SKY FUCKING HIGH YOU ARE GOING TO GIVE ME MY GOD DAMN DOG BACK RIGHT FUCKING NOW.”
“You are…fucking nuts. Y-you are insane, what is wrong with you?” he stammered.
“DOG, NOW!” I screamed, shaking the detonator. Without hesitation he ran over to the dog kennel buried in the desert ground and pulled out the corgi. Fluffy, docile, always happy no matter how much desert there was, it was him. He shoved the dog into my arms and I put my phone into my pocket.
“There you are, you sick sick man,” he muttered, pulling out another cigarette.
“Thanks, El Merde Bandit,” I said. He chomped his cigarette in half and stared daggers into my eyes.
“NOBODY CALLS ME THAT YOU AMERICAN SHIT!” He screamed as he pulled out his pistol and pointed it at me.
“Wait nonon-!” “*Was all I said before I assume I was killed in the explosion.” *
God looks at his notes and back at me, “And how is this story supposed to stop me from sending you to hell?”
*“Oh no,” I begin, “I just thought it was a neat story, feel free to send me down now.” *
“…okay.”