Bianca was good, very good actually.
But we got a call from someone very high up in Washington.
'There's a caravan heading San Diego Way, stop it, at all costs.'
Easy, I said to Max.
We caught up with them on the outskirts of town.
It was fiesta time.
They were going to the promised land.
I had cash and would nip this one in the bud.
We needed to keep Washington happy.
'Jose,' I said to the leader, while fifty ragged dressed Nicauguans looked on.
'The most you'll get an hour picking strawberries is $2.50, and that's for a couple. Yanks don't employ singles, they say it costs them too much.'
Jose looked on with wide eyes and an O formed on his mouth.
He translated this to the ragtag, who were apparently a threat to American national security.
I started peeling greenbacks and said, better you go home and put a down payment on a mortgage.
I think it only cost me $50 000 bucks to send that caravan where they came from.
'Besides,' I added, 'you'll all get a ticket to Disney Land, and a visit to the White House.' They looked on goggly-eyed. I added,' because what you have done is the right thing, entering the country, legally.'
I took a few photos, got some quotes and fired off the story to the New York Post.
And sure enough, they graced the pages of the marvelous rag a few weeks later, posing for photos with the President.
It was nice doing real work and apparently, Max was sent a 'herogram' from the President himself. It did send a strong message to gypsies who thought they could just traipse into the US of A.
And more importantly, it guaranteed much-needed funds for our future missions.
I texted Bianca, saying we'd meet her at the Novotel for a sundowner.
'You deserve it too,' said Max, who thumped me hard on the back.
I might be an honorary US citizen, at this rate, I told him.
'You already are,' he said as we raced back to the Big Tit Brigade at the Caribbean Bar on the second floor of the Novotel.
But we got a call from someone very high up in Washington.
'There's a caravan heading San Diego Way, stop it, at all costs.'
Easy, I said to Max.
We caught up with them on the outskirts of town.
It was fiesta time.
They were going to the promised land.
I had cash and would nip this one in the bud.
We needed to keep Washington happy.
'Jose,' I said to the leader, while fifty ragged dressed Nicauguans looked on.
'The most you'll get an hour picking strawberries is $2.50, and that's for a couple. Yanks don't employ singles, they say it costs them too much.'
Jose looked on with wide eyes and an O formed on his mouth.
He translated this to the ragtag, who were apparently a threat to American national security.
I started peeling greenbacks and said, better you go home and put a down payment on a mortgage.
I think it only cost me $50 000 bucks to send that caravan where they came from.
'Besides,' I added, 'you'll all get a ticket to Disney Land, and a visit to the White House.' They looked on goggly-eyed. I added,' because what you have done is the right thing, entering the country, legally.'
I took a few photos, got some quotes and fired off the story to the New York Post.
And sure enough, they graced the pages of the marvelous rag a few weeks later, posing for photos with the President.
It was nice doing real work and apparently, Max was sent a 'herogram' from the President himself. It did send a strong message to gypsies who thought they could just traipse into the US of A.
And more importantly, it guaranteed much-needed funds for our future missions.
I texted Bianca, saying we'd meet her at the Novotel for a sundowner.
'You deserve it too,' said Max, who thumped me hard on the back.
I might be an honorary US citizen, at this rate, I told him.
'You already are,' he said as we raced back to the Big Tit Brigade at the Caribbean Bar on the second floor of the Novotel.
