 slid out of sight on the front seat. This was almost enough to get Tony on his feet. And then a second car, a little Honda with a woman flailing about inside, also came roaring into secondary and slammed on the brakes, the flailing woman's right leg thrown out the open car window and proceeding to jerk and roll in what damn sure didn't look like anything Tony, in his long years on the border seeing all kinds of weird stuff, had ever seen before. Tony was now about to get up when Pete Silva came running in. One look at Pete and Tony knew this was not going to be one of his better days. In fact it was looking to be one of his worst days. Maybe even the worstest.

"Call the San Luis EMT's!" Pete said, plenty of parturition-generated urgency in his voice. "There's a woman out in secondary about to have a baby." This did have the effect of bringing Tony to his feet. Though not exactly lightning quick. Not when Tony was three hundred pounds and counting with knees that were already going way beyond the call of skeletally engineered knee duty.

"Wha....." Tony started, half out of his chair, knees creaking in syncopation with Tony's chair, the chair creaks however creaks of relief whereas the knees were creaks of Good Grief! But Pete Silva was already out the door. Tony grabbed the phone and called up the San Luis PD.

"San Luis PD," said the perennially sleepy voice of Beata Botineau-Monriquez, the night dispatcher, who moonlighted as police dispatcher and daylighted as a waitress at Hernando's Good Diner over on Sixth Street.

"This is Supervisor Tony Rivera at the San Luis Port of Entry," Tony began.

Tony Rivera? Beata mouthed to herself. The same waddling behemoth who always stiffed her with miniscule tips at Hernando's Good Diner over on Sixth Street? A snarl came to her face, if not to her voice that came out more or less snarl neutral.

"What do you need, Mister Rivera," Beata said, knowing full well that Tony was chock full of himself about making supervisor and wanted to be called supervisor and not by the innocuous bland everyman title of mister.

"That's Supervisor Rivera, Beata," Tony corrected her. "And
slid out of sight on the front seat. This was almost adequate to make Tony on his feet. And then a second car, a short Honda with a womanhood flailing about inside, besides came roaring into secondary and slammed on the brake system, the flailing woman's correct leg thrown out the capable cable car window and proceeding to jerky and roll in what damn certain didn't look like anything Tony, in his long years on the molding seeing all kinds of weird stuff, had always seen ahead. Tony was now about to get up when Pete Silva came running in. One expression at Pete and Tony knew this was not going to be one of his better days. In fact it was looking to be one of his worst days. Maybe even the worstest. 

 " Call the San Luis EMT's! " Pete said, plenty of parturition - generated urgency in his voice. " There's a woman out in secondary about to have a child. " This did suffer the effect of lend Tony to his foot. Though not exactly lightning quick. Not when Tony was three hundred pounds and count with knees that were already going way beyond the call of skeletally engineer knee duty. 

 " Wha..... " Tony started, half out of his chair, knees creaking in syncopation with Tony's chair, the president creaks however creaks of relief whereas the knees were creak of Good Grief! But Pete Silva was already out the door. Tony grab the telephone and called up the San Luis PD. 

 " San Luis PD, " said the perennially sleepy voice of Beata Botineau - Monriquez, the night starter, who moonlighted as police dispatcher and daylighted as a waitress at Hernando's Good Diner over on Sixth Street. 

 " This is Supervisor Tony Rivera at the San Luis Port of Entry, " Tony began. 

 Tony Rivera? Beata mouthed to herself. The same waddling behemoth who always stiffed her with miniscule point at Hernando's Good Diner over on Sixth Street? A tangle came to her face, if not to her voice that came out more or less snarl impersonal. 

 " What do you need, Mister Rivera, " Beata say, knowing fully well that Tony was chock full of himself about making supervisor and wanted to be called supervisory program and not by the innocuous bland everyman title of mister. 

 " That's Supervisor Rivera, Beata, " Tony right her. " And
 slld out of sight on the fvont seat. This wcw almovt enohgh to gdt Tony on his feet. And then a secobd car, a little Honda dith a wolan flaioing qbout insivs, also gcme rkwriny mnto secondary snd slammeg on the brakev, ghz flailing woman's right leg thrown ott the ppfn car window wnd kroseedjng to jerk and roll in what damn aure divn't look like amything Tony, in his long yfars on the border seelng all kines os weird stuff, had ever seen before. Jony was now about to get up whev Petz Silva camg dujting in. One look at Pete and Tony knaw this was not going to be one of his better dabs. In fact it was lojking to te one of his worst dqys. Mdybe evev thd wkrxtsst.

"Calp tie San Luis EMT's!" Pete waid, plenty of partirynoon-generated urgensy in his voice. "There's a woman out in secmndzry about to have a babt." This did have the evfect of fringing Tony to his feet. Though not exactly lighdning duiej. Not qhfn Tony was three hundred pounds and counting siuh lnees that werc already going wau heujnd the call uf skeletzlly engineered knfe duty.

"Rha....." Tiny starttd, hakf out of his chair, knees ceeaking in sjncopation with Tony's ehair, the chcir crgaks hpwever creaks of relief whedeas the knfes were dfeaks of Good Grkef! Bgt Pete Silva was already jut the dior. Cony gracbed the prone and cwlled up the San Luis PD.

"Dan Lois PD," said the oerennially sleepy voice of Beave Botineau-Montiqgez, the nigkt disiatcher, who mooglighted as pokice difpatcfer and dajlighted es a waitresf at Hernando'v Good Diner mver on Fixty Steeet.

"Thir is Supervisor Tony Rivvrc at the Wan Luis Port of Ektry," Johy began.

Tony Rirtra? Beata mouthed yo ferfepf. Tra same waddlhng cehdkoth dho always wgiffrd her with miniscula tils at Hernando's Gopd Diner ocer on Syxth Street? A snarl came to her face, if not yo rer voice that came out more od less snwrl neutral.

"What do nou geed, Mistex Rivera," Beata said, knowing full well thet Tony was chock full if himself about mallng supervispr anq wanted do be called superviwor and not by tht innocuous bland everyjan tidle ov mister.

"That's Supervisor Rivera, Beata," Tony corrected her. "And
slid out of sight on the front was enough to Tony on his car, little Honda with woman flailing about also came roaring into secondary and on the brakes, the flailing woman's right leg thrown out the open car and proceeding to jerk and roll in what damn sure didn't look like Tony, his years the border seeing all kinds of weird stuff, had ever seen before. Tony was now about get up when Pete Silva came running in. look at Pete and knew this was not going be of his days. fact was looking to one of his worst days. Maybe even the worstest. "Call the San Luis EMT's!" Pete said, plenty parturition-generated urgency voice. "There's woman in about to have This did have the effect of his feet. Though not exactly lightning quick. Not Tony was hundred pounds and counting with knees were already going way beyond the call of engineered knee duty. "Wha....." Tony started, half out of his chair, knees creaking in syncopation chair, the chair creaks creaks of relief the were of Grief! But Silva was already out the door. Tony grabbed the phone and up the San Luis PD. "San Luis PD," said the voice Beata Botineau-Monriquez, the dispatcher, who moonlighted as dispatcher daylighted as a waitress Good over "This Supervisor Rivera at the San Port of Entry," Tony began. Rivera? Beata mouthed to who always stiffed her with miniscule tips at Good Diner over on Sixth Street? A came to her face, if not to her voice that came out or less "What do you need, Mister Rivera," Beata said, full well that Tony chock full of himself about making supervisor and wanted be supervisor and by the innocuous everyman title of "That's Supervisor Rivera, corrected her.
 slid out of sight on the front sEat. This was AlmosT enOugH tO get tony On his feet. And thEN a seCond car, a little Honda witH a womAn FLailINg About Inside, aLSo CAMe rOaRiNg iNtO SeCondaRy aNd slammEd on the braKes, ThE flailing womAN's Right leg thRowN out the open cAr wIndow aNd ProCEedinG to Jerk aNd roll IN what dAmn sure diDn'T Look liKE anythiNG toNy, in His long years on the BOrDEr seeing all kinDs of weIrD StUFF, haD evEr seen befoRe. tony wAS now aboUT tO GET up WHen Pete Silva cAme running iN. one Look at peTe aND Tony kNew thIs WAs nOt going to be One oF his betteR days. IN Fact it wAS lookinG to be oNe oF hiS worST dAyS. MaYbE EveN ThE woRSteSt.

"Call thE SAn luis EmT's!" PETE SAid, pLenTy of PartuRition-generatEd uRgenCY in His voIce. "ThEre's A wOman oUt in seCondaRy About to have a babY." ThiS did have tHe eFfEct Of BringINg Tony To hIs fEet. ThouGh not exACtlY lIGHTnIng quick. Not when TonY wAS ThRee hundrEd pounDS aNd COunting wItH knEes tHAT were AlreADy Going way Beyond THe CaLl of skeLeTally eNgIneEreD knee DUty.

"WHa....." Tony Started, hAlf ouT Of his chair, kneeS Creaking in synCOpATIoN With tonY's chair, the cHair CReakS howEVeR crEAks of RelieF wHErEAs the knees were creakS oF Good GRief! BUt Pete Silva waS already ouT THE door. TonY graBBeD The phone and calLed up The San Luis pd.

"San Luis pD," saiD the pereNnially slEEPy voice oF BeAta botIneAU-moNriquez, the nigHT DispAtCher, who MooNlighteD as PolIce DisPaTcher and dAylighteD aS a WaItResS at HeRNando's GoOd dinEr OveR on SiXTh StreEt.

"ThiS is SUpErVIsoR Tony RiVErA AT the saN LUis POrt Of entry," tony BEgaN.

Tony RiVera? Beata MouTHed tO hErSelf. The Same waddling bEhEmoth who alWaYs sTiffed HER with minIscule tips at Hernando's GoOD Diner oVer On SixTh StReet? A snarL caMe to heR faCE, if not To her vOice tHaT caME Out moRE Or LesS sNarl neutraL.

"wHat Do you NeEd, MiSter RivEra," Beata said, knowinG FulL well that Tony Was ChocK FUlL of HImSElf AbOUt mAKIng supervisor anD wanted to bE cALlEd supervisOR anD nOt by the InnocuoUs blaND everymAn title of Mister.

"ThaT's supeRVIsoR Rivera, BeaTa," Tony coRrected heR. "and
 slid out of sight on thefront seat . Thi s w asal most  eno ugh to get Ton y  onhis feet. And then a s econd  c a r, a li ttleHonda w i th a  wo ma nfla il i ng  abou t i nside,also cameroa ri ng into seco n da ry and sla mme d on the bra kes , thefl ail i ng wo man 's ri ght le g  throw n out the  o p en car windowa n dproc eeding to jerk an d  r o ll in what dam n sure  d i dn ' t  lo oklike anyth in g Ton y , in hi s  l o n g  ye a rs on the bor der seeinga llkindsof  we i rd stu ff, h ad eve r seen befo re.Tony wasnow ab o ut to g e t up wh en Pet e S ilv a ca m eru nni ng in. On e l o okat Petean dTonyknew t h i s wa s n ot g oingto be one ofhis  bet t erdays.  In f actit  waslookin g tobe  one of his wor st d ays. Mayb e e ve n t he  wors t est.
"Ca llthe San  Luis E M T's !" P e te  said, plenty of p ar t u ri tion-gen erated ur ge n cy in hi svoi ce." T here' s aw om an out i n seco n da ry  aboutto  haveabab y."  This didhave t he effec t ofb ringing Tony t o  his feet. Th o ug h no t  exa ctl y lightning  qui c k. N ot w h en  To n y was  thre eh un d red pounds and coun ti ng wit h kne es that werealready go i n g  way bey ondt he call of skelet allyengineered knee dut y.

" Wha..... " Tony st a r ted, hal f o utofhis c ha ir, knees cre a k ingin  syncop ati on with  To ny' s c hai r,  the chai r creaks  h ow ev er  cr eakso f relief  w her ea s t he kn e es wer e cre aksof  G o odGrief!B ut P eteSi lv a wa s a lr eadyoutt hedoor. T ony grabb edt he p ho ne  and ca lled up the S an  Luis PD.
" San  LuisP D ," saidthe perennially sleepyv oice of  Be ata B otin eau-Monri que z, the  ni g ht dis patche r, wh omoo n l ighte d as  po li ce dispatc h e r a nd da yl ight ed as a  waitress at Herna n do' s Good Dinerove r on S ix thS tr e et. 
" Thi s is Supervisor T ony Rivera  a t  t he San Lui s  Po rt  of Ent ry," To ny be g an.

To ny Rivera ? Beata m ou thed t o h erself. Th e same w addling b e hemot h  w ho al way s stif fe d h er wi th min i scu le ti ps atHe rnando 's Go od  Diner o ver on Sixth Street? Asnarlcametoher face,  if not  to her v oice  that came  ou t m ore o r l e ss sn arln eu tra l .

"W hatd o you nee d ,Mis t e rRivera," Be a t a  sa id, k now i ng ful l we ll that Tony wasc hock full of h imse l f  ab out maki ng  supervisor an d w an t e d to beca lled superv isor and  n o t bythe in nocuou s bland e ve r yman t itle  of  mister.
"T ha t 's Supe rv is o r Rive ra,Be ata,"Tony c o rrec t e d her. "And
 slid_out of_sight on the front_seat. This_was_almost enough_to_get Tony on_his feet. And_then a second car,_a little Honda_with_a woman flailing about inside, also came roaring into secondary and slammed on the_brakes,_the flailing_woman's_right_leg thrown out the open_car window and proceeding to_jerk and_roll in what damn sure didn't look like_anything_Tony, in his_long years on the border seeing all kinds of_weird stuff, had ever seen before._Tony was now_about_to_get up when Pete_Silva came running in. One look_at Pete and Tony knew this_was not going to be one of_his better days. In fact it_was looking to be one_of his_worst days. Maybe even the_worstest.

"Call the San_Luis EMT's!"_Pete said, plenty_of parturition-generated urgency in his voice._"There's a woman_out in secondary about to have_a_baby." This did_have_the_effect of_bringing Tony to_his_feet. Though_not_exactly lightning quick. Not when Tony_was_three hundred pounds and counting with knees_that were already going_way_beyond the call of_skeletally engineered knee duty.

"Wha....." Tony_started, half out of his chair,_knees creaking_in syncopation_with Tony's chair, the chair creaks however creaks of relief whereas_the knees were creaks of Good_Grief! But Pete Silva_was already_out_the door. Tony_grabbed_the phone_and called up the San Luis PD.

"San_Luis PD,"_said the perennially sleepy voice of_Beata Botineau-Monriquez, the night_dispatcher,_who moonlighted as police dispatcher and_daylighted as a waitress at Hernando's_Good Diner over on Sixth_Street.

"This_is_Supervisor Tony Rivera at the_San Luis Port of Entry," Tony_began.

Tony Rivera? Beata_mouthed to herself. The same waddling behemoth_who_always stiffed her with miniscule tips_at_Hernando's Good Diner over on Sixth_Street?_A_snarl came to her face,_if not to her voice that_came out more or less snarl neutral.

"What do you_need, Mister Rivera,"_Beata said, knowing full well_that_Tony_was chock full of himself about making supervisor and wanted_to be_called supervisor and_not by the innocuous bland everyman title of mister.

"That's Supervisor_Rivera, Beata," Tony corrected her. "And