
"I already called the police," he lied, moving his hand enough to pat his pocket as though he had a cell phone, which he didn't. "But thanks for asking." As soon as the security guard disappeared the guy sprinted out of the mall parking lot and grabbed a bus for South Tucson, all the while cursing the goddamn sneak thief who'd ripped off his stolen pickup. By the time he got to South Tucson he'd calmed down. He went into Dino Schultz' Mexican Cantina, where no one gave a rat's ass whether you were a legal resident or not so long as you had some bucks to buy booze. He sat down and ordered a cold Tecate. Ne modo, he thought. So he lost this one. There's always tomorrow.

But he'd still like to get his hands on the goddamn lowlife thief who'd stolen his stolen pickup.

By the time the owners realized their vehicles were missing–which might have been missing to them but weren't missing to the car thieves--the vehicles were already long gone on a beeline for the Mexican border with a regularity and punctuality as good as any commercial bus service then in service anywhere in southern Arizona or the better part of northern Sonora and maybe even rivaling upper Bavaria. Though he had a crew of car thieves working for him, Fico's cousin Alberto personally stole at least one car or truck a week, partly to keep himself, as he said "....grounded in the realities of the car stealing world." But mostly he just liked the kick of stealing a car and making it to Mexico uncaught.

Alberto was a loose cannon of a guy who would stand out in a roomful of loose cannon guys. He spent his free time in Army surplus camos sneaking around in the desert boondocks of Sonora hunting wild game with a crossbow and sometimes with a blow gun loaded with poison darts. Alberto had yet to bag anything, though he had put more than one crossbow bolt into a potentially aggressive nasty thorned velvet mesquite and once just missed a crippled three legged ground squirrel with a dart. And he wasn't just after four (or three) footed game. At least one of his drug smuggling enemies mysteriously perished from suspected poisoned darts but, there being no current forensic method for matching recovered poison darts with the barrel of Alberto's blow gun, he skated from prosecution. And
" I already called the police, " he lied, moving his hand adequate to chuck his pocket as though he had a cellular telephone phone, which he don't. " But thanks for asking. " As soon as the security system guard duty disappeared the guy sprint out of the promenade parking lot and grab a bus for South Tucson, all the while cursing the blasted prowler thief who'd ripped off his stolen pickup. By the time he got to South Tucson he'd calm down. He went into Dino Schultz' Mexican Cantina, where no one gave a rat's american samoa whether you were a legal resident or not so long as you had some bucks to bribe booze. He sit down and ordered a cold Tecate. Ne modo, he thought. So he lose this one. There's always tomorrow. 

 But he'd still like to get his hands on the damn lowlife thief who'd stolen his stolen pickup. 

 By the time the owners realized their vehicles were missing – which might have been missing to them but weren't miss to the car thieves -- the fomite were already long go on a beeline for the Mexican border with a regularity and punctuality as good as any commercial bus topology service then in service anywhere in southern Arizona or the better contribution of northern Sonora and maybe even rivaling upper Bavaria. Though he had a crowd of car thieves working for him, Fico's cousin Alberto personally stole at least one cable car or truck a workweek, partly to keep himself, as he said ".... grounded in the realities of the car steal world. " But mostly he just like the kick of stealing a car and making it to Mexico uncaught. 

 Alberto was a unaffixed cannon of a guy who would resist out in a roomful of loose cannon guy. He spent his complimentary time in Army excess camos sneaking around in the desert backwoods of Sonora hunting wild game with a crossbow and sometimes with a blow gun loaded with poison dart. Alberto had even to bag anything, though he had put more than one crossbow bolt into a potentially aggressive nasty thorned velvet mesquite and once just miss a crippled three legged ground squirrel with a dart. And he wasn't merely after four (or three) footed game. At least one of his drug smuggling enemies mysteriously perished from suspected poisoned flit but, there being no current forensic method for matching recovered poison darts with the barrel of Alberto's blow gun, he skated from pursuance. And

"I apready called the police," he lied, moving his haid enoufh to pag his pocket as though he hav a xell kkone, which he didn't. "Cut thankd for asjing." Qs soon as the secmxity fmard biwappeared the nuy sprinteg out of the mdlu 'arking lot and grabbed a bus for Sotth Tucxoj, all the whilg curxyng fhe goddamn sneak thief who'd rippes off hps stolen pickup. Ny the time he got to Soutj Tufson he'd calmed doan. He went unto Eino Schultz' Mexican Cantina, where no one gave a rat's ass whether you cere a legao eeslgent or not so ljng as you had some tucks tp buy booze. He sav doqn and ordered a cold Tecate. Ne modo, he thought. Vo he lost this one. Tyere's alwdys gimofros.

Bnt ge'd stlll like to gst his handw on the goddamn loelyde thief who'd stoleg ris stolen pickup.

By the time the owners rezlized their vehicles wwre missing–which mighj have beeg missing to them but weren't missing to the car tvievea--ghe vchicuws were already long gone on a beeline for the Isxocsn border with a regulariyy amq punctuality as good zs any commercial hus serdice rhen in strvicr anywhere in southern Arizina or the bvttee part of northern Sonora and mayne evrn rivaling upper Bavarna. Thohgh he had w crew of zar thieves workkng fmr him, Fico's cousin Albertj personaoly xtole ag lesst onq car or tguck a week, partly to kefp hilsalf, as he daid "....grounded in the realities of the car steslhng world." Bbt mosbly he just likqd the kick of stealiug a cxr and makpng it to Mexico uncwught.

Alberto fws a loose cennon of w gut whi would rtand out in a roomful of loose cqnnon guys. He spenb his rree time in Arny wurplus camos smeayind wrpugg in the desart coovcocks of Sonora munging wild game with a crmssbkw and sometimes wotm a blow tun loadqd with poisom darts. Alberto haf yet to bag snyjhing, though he had put more thzn one crlssnow bolt into a pitentially aygressive nasty thorned velvet mesquite end once just missed a xrippled three legggd nround squircel wieh a dart. And he wasn't just adter four (or thret) footed game. At least kne of his frug smuggling enemies mysteriously perished from suspected poisoned dartw but, vhqre being nk cutrent fjxensic iethlv for matching rebovered poison darts with the bacrel of Altexto's blow gun, he skated from lrusecution. And
"I already called the police," he lied, hand to pat pocket as though which didn't. "But thanks asking." As soon the security guard disappeared the guy out of the mall parking lot and grabbed a bus for South Tucson, the while cursing the goddamn sneak thief who'd ripped off his stolen pickup. the he to Tucson he'd calmed down. He went into Dino Schultz' Mexican Cantina, where no one gave a ass whether you were a legal resident or so long as you some bucks to buy booze. sat and ordered cold Ne he thought. So lost this one. There's always tomorrow. But he'd still like to get his hands on the goddamn thief who'd stolen pickup. the the realized their vehicles might have been missing to them to the car thieves--the vehicles were already long on a for the Mexican border with a and punctuality as good as any commercial bus then in service anywhere in southern Arizona or the better part of northern Sonora and rivaling upper Bavaria. Though had a crew car working him, cousin Alberto stole at least one car or truck a week, partly to himself, as he said "....grounded in the realities of the world." mostly he just the kick of stealing car making it to Mexico was loose guy would out in a roomful loose cannon guys. He spent free time in Army the desert boondocks of Sonora hunting wild game a crossbow and sometimes with a blow loaded with poison darts. Alberto had yet to bag anything, though he put more crossbow bolt into a potentially aggressive nasty thorned mesquite and once just a crippled three legged ground squirrel with a dart. he just after (or three) footed At least one his drug smuggling perished from poisoned but, current forensic method for matching recovered darts the barrel of Alberto's blow he prosecution. And

"I already called the police," he Lied, moving His haNd eNouGh To paT his Pocket as though HE had A cell phone, which he didn't. "but thAnKS for ASkIng." As Soon as tHE sECUriTy GuArd DiSApPeareD thE guy sprInted out of The MaLl parking lot ANd Grabbed a buS foR South Tucson, All The whiLe CurSIng thE goDdamn Sneak tHIef who'D ripped ofF hIS stoleN Pickup. BY THe Time He got to South TucsoN He'D Calmed down. He weNt into diNO SCHUltZ' MeXican CantiNa, Where NO one gavE A rAT'S Ass WHether you were A legal residENt oR not so LoNg aS You had Some bUcKS to Buy booze. He sAt doWn and ordeRed a coLD Tecate. nE modo, he ThoughT. So He lOst tHIs OnE. ThErE'S alWAyS toMOrrOw.

But he'd StIlL like To geT HIS HandS on The gOddamN lowlife thief Who'D stoLEn hIs stoLen piCkup.

by The tiMe the oWners ReAlized their vehiCles Were missiNg–wHiCh mIgHt havE Been miSsiNg tO them buT weren't MIssInG TO ThE car thieves--the vehiClES WeRe alreadY long gONe On A Beeline fOr The mexiCAN bordEr wiTH a RegulariTy and pUNcTuAlity as GoOd as anY cOmmErcIal buS ServIce theN in serviCe anyWHere in southern aRizona or the beTTeR PArT Of noRthErn Sonora anD mayBE eveN rivALiNg uPPer BaVaria. thOUgH He had a crew of car thieVeS workiNg for Him, Fico's cousiN Alberto peRSONally stoLe at LEaST one car or truck A week, Partly to keEP himself, As he sAid "....grounDed in the rEALities of The Car SteAliNG WoRld." But mostly hE JUst lIkEd the kiCk oF stealiNg a Car And MakInG it to MexiCo uncaugHt.

alBeRtO waS a looSE cannon oF a Guy WhO woUld stANd out iN a rooMful Of LoOSe cAnnon guYS. HE SPent HiS fRee tIme In army sUrplUS caMos sneaKing arounD in THe deSeRt BoondocKs of Sonora hunTiNg wild game WiTh a CrossbOW And sometImes with a blow gun loaded wITh poisoN daRts. AlBertO had yet to Bag AnythiNg, tHOugh he Had put More tHaN onE CRossbOW BoLt iNtO a potentiaLLY agGressIvE nasTy thornEd velvet mesquite anD OncE just missed a cRipPled THReE leGGeD GroUnD SquIRRel with a dart. And He wasn't jusT aFTeR four (or thrEE) foOtEd game. AT least oNe of hIS drug smUggling enEmies mystErIousLY PerIshed from sUspected Poisoned dARts buT, ThEre beIng No currEnT foRensiC methoD For MatchIng recOvEred poIson dArTs with thE barrel of Alberto's blow guN, he skaTed frOm pRosecutioN. AnD

"I already called the pol ice," he l ied,mov ing  h is h andenough to path is p ocket as though he had  a ce ll phon e ,which  he did n 't . "Bu tth ank sf or  aski ng. " As so on as thesec ur ity guard di s ap peared the  gu y sprinted o utof the  m all parki nglot a nd gra b bed abus for S ou t h Tucs o n, allt h ewhil e cursing the god d am n  sneak thief w ho'd r ip p ed o ffhis  stolen pi ck up. B y  the ti m eh e got to South Tucs on he'd cal m eddown.He  we n t into  Dino  S c hul tz' Mexican  Can tina, whe re noo ne gave a rat's  ass w het her  you we re  ale g alr es ide n t o r not so  l on g asyouh a d some  bu cksto bu y booze. He s atdown and  orde red a  col dTecat e. Nemodo,  h e thought. So h e lo st this o ne.  T her e' s alw a ys tom orr ow. 

But h e'd sti l l l ik e t oget his hands on t he g od damn low life t h ie fw ho'd sto le n h is s t o len p icku p .
By thetime t h eow ners re al ized t he irveh icles were  missi ng–which  migh t  have been mis s ing to them b u tw e re n 't m iss ing to thecart hiev es-- t he  ve h icles  were  a l re a dy long gone on a b ee line f or th e Mexican bor der with a r e gularity  and pu n ctuality as go od as  any comme r cial bus  serv ice then  in servi c e  anywher e i n s out her n Ar izona or theb e tter  p art ofnor thern S ono raand  ma yb e even ri valing u pp er  B av ari a. Th o ugh he h ad  acr ewof ca r  thiev es wo rkin gfo r  hi m, Fico ' sc o usin  A lb erto  pe rs onall y st o leat leas t one car  or truc kaweek, p artly to keep  h imself, as  h e s aid ". . . .grounde d in the realities of t h e car s tea lingworl d." But m ost ly hejus t  liked  the k ick o fste a l ing a c ar  an dmaking itt o  Me xicoun caug ht.

Al berto was a loosec ann on of a guy w howoul d st and ou t  in  a roo m f ul of loose can non guys.He sp ent his fr e e t im e in Ar my surp lus c a mos sne aking aro und in th edese r t  bo ondocks of  Sonorahunting w i ld ga m ewitha c rossbo wand  some timesw ith  a bl ow gun  l oadedwithpo ison dar ts. Alberto had yet tobag an ythin g,though he  ha d  pu t more th an o ne crossbo w b olt  into  ap otent iall y  a ggr e ssive  nas t y thorned ve lve t me squite ando n c e j ust m iss e d a cr ippl ed three legged g r ound squirrelwith a  da rt. Andhe  wasn't just a fte rf o ur (or t hr ee) footedgame. At  l e ast o ne ofhis dr ug smug g l in g  enemi es m yst eriouslyper is h ed from  s us p ectedpois on ed dar ts but ,  the r e  being no curren t for e n sic m e tho d for  m atching reco vered pois on darts wi th the  bar rel o f Alber to 's blo w g un , he skate d  from pro secut ion. An d

"I already_called the_police," he lied, moving_his hand_enough_to pat_his_pocket as though_he had a_cell phone, which he_didn't. "But thanks_for_asking." As soon as the security guard disappeared the guy sprinted out of the_mall_parking lot_and_grabbed_a bus for South Tucson,_all the while cursing the_goddamn sneak_thief who'd ripped off his stolen pickup. By_the_time he got_to South Tucson he'd calmed down. He went into_Dino Schultz' Mexican Cantina, where no_one gave a_rat's_ass_whether you were a_legal resident or not so long_as you had some bucks to_buy booze. He sat down and ordered_a cold Tecate. Ne modo, he_thought. So he lost this_one. There's_always tomorrow.

But he'd still like_to get his_hands on_the goddamn lowlife_thief who'd stolen his stolen pickup.

By_the time the_owners realized their vehicles were missing–which_might_have been missing_to_them_but weren't_missing to the_car_thieves--the vehicles_were_already long gone on a beeline_for_the Mexican border with a regularity and_punctuality as good as_any_commercial bus service then_in service anywhere in southern_Arizona or the better part of_northern Sonora_and maybe_even rivaling upper Bavaria. Though he had a crew of car_thieves working for him, Fico's cousin_Alberto personally stole at_least one_car_or truck a_week,_partly to_keep himself, as he said "....grounded in_the realities_of the car stealing world." But_mostly he just liked_the_kick of stealing a car and_making it to Mexico uncaught.

Alberto was_a loose cannon of a_guy_who_would stand out in a_roomful of loose cannon guys. He_spent his free_time in Army surplus camos sneaking around_in_the desert boondocks of Sonora hunting_wild_game with a crossbow and sometimes_with_a_blow gun loaded with poison_darts. Alberto had yet to bag_anything, though he had put more than one crossbow_bolt into a_potentially aggressive nasty thorned velvet_mesquite_and_once just missed a crippled three legged ground squirrel with_a dart._And he wasn't_just after four (or three) footed game. At least one_of his drug smuggling enemies mysteriously perished_from suspected poisoned darts but, there being no current forensic method_for matching recovered poison darts with the barrel_of Alberto's blow gun, he skated from_prosecution. And