We weren't in Havana to smoke the cigars or admire the colorful buildings.

If I wanted color, I would have chucked on a DVD of Debbie Does Dallas.

You could only buy white bread.

Fucked if I was going to wait an hour in line for white bread.

I had a feeling that this place was overrated.

The only thing going for it was the sun.

'Can't you at least open up the envelope and see what the mission is.'

Ok, I said to Max.

'April fools day, you're fucked.'

Jack was childish in many ways and he added, 'if you want to see the Bay of Pigs, I hear they have nice murals.' Inside the envelope were a few pesos.

It looked like we were stuck, stuck in Havana.

Florida, I was told, wasn't far away.

'Only a few hours boat ride,' said Max.

He got off the phone, he was texting, a taxi arrived and five minutes later, we were at a jetty where the CIA Monster Boat was waiting for us.

'Half an hour, and we'll be in Daytona fucking the college girls.'

I had heard about Daytona and now that we had the boat, why not just cruise onto Mexico.

'Veracruz ain't far from here,'I said.

'Nor is Honduras.'

I could feel the arribbas and andales building up in my pants.
And they sold brown bread too, I added.
It was a deal, Honduras, The Caribean, here we come!! 

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