El Dupree, Selected Works, Volume 8 Alf the Poet, Editor Paul Kilzer, from The Te of El Dupree: El Dupree stepped into the shade of the cantina. He sat down at a table and signaled for the worn-out looking bar girl to take his order. "A bottle of Tequila, a glass for me and a glass for my friend the Corzappa here." He hefted the leather wrapped iron in his hand. The bar girl returned. The Short Fat One and his Aztec Companion began to drink. ****************************************** An argument across the room roused Him from his stupor. Pepito and a stranger were sitting at a table. The stranger was speaking loudly and waving a book in the air excitedly. El Dupree thought of the day long ago he had seen Pepito leave for college in the City. On the back cover of the book was a photo of Pepito, on the front a drawing of a snake flying a kite. Thinking of his need to piss, the Short Fat One had a notion to say hello on his way out back. He rose from his seat and began to stumble across the room. As he approached the pair he began to hear what the stranger was saying. "I thought you said this book was called The How of Beating Snakes! This book is useless to me! All it has is a bunch of whining about losers who got bitten when they failed to appreciate 'The Way of the Snake'! What I want is pointers on how to kill snakes like a Real Man. I want to beat them on their own territory, with a six gun, like a Real Man. What use have I got for a bunch of cowardly advice about walking on the tops of boulders and rattling a stick around in the bushes before I walk through!!! You make me sick, you yellow-bellied bastard. I want my money back!" As he was yelling, the stranger had risen from his chair and drawn his pistol, taking Pepito by surprise. Almost close enough to touch the stranger, the Maloderous One stepped forward, thinking to strike him with the corzappa. El Dupree tripped on an unseen drunk passed out on the floor. The corazappa flew from his hand and he fell towards the stranger. As the stranger pulled the trigger, The Hand of The Short Fat One fell onto the stranger's pistol. The firing hammer struck the only part of his hand not calloused from the endless hours of devil fingers. A blood blister grew in the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Pepito scrambled across the room to grab the corzappa before he ran out the door. El Dupree and the stranger fell into an avocado stained heap. Cursing, the stranger pulled himself upright, kicked the Short Fat One, then ran after Pepito. Feeling the Call of Mejave Mai, El Dupree stumbled outside. ****************************************** On the road to Mejave Mai, El Dupree came across a horse tied in the shade of a tree. Lying near the mouth of the ravine where Pepito used to keep his secret lair was the stranger, his shooting arm swollen from rattle snake bites, his belly swollen from the desert heat. El Dupree untied the horse and climbed atop it. This would make his trip much easier. At that moment, the snake was enlightened. Alf the Poet, untitled: El Dupree slowly dragged himself out of the fog that was his mind. He began to piece together the events of the past week, disjoint in his lethargy. Where had the sudden attack come from? Why? And who was the mysterious "Alfbard," now lying dead to one side, who had beaten our hero furiously from front and back at the same time? The Lipidinous Luminary felt for a handhold on a nearby table, trying to lurch upright. His fingers found a dusty bottle of Rio Rojo, nearly empty, neck broken off. He sat back down in the shadows of the abandoned saloon, peering confusedly at this unexpected gift. "Hechkkkkk!" he said, "Merry fucking Christmas. Bof!" He spat, yawned, drank, and, after considering the angle of the sun for a timeless time, drifted back to sleep. Alf the Poet, from El Dupree at Festival Time: In springtime, the mountains near Mejave Mai burst into a vast expanse of color. It it then that the little children are sent out to collect the beautiful blossoms for the Festival de las Fajitas, celebrating the rebirth of nature in an otherwise brown, dusty land. Scampering con zapatos about the hillsides, the children fill canvas sacks as large as themselves with bontivas, fluchos, and even the rare sonda flamado, the flaming goat's nose, whose fragrance is said to arouse even old Padre Sanchez from his afternoon siesta. It is a time of peace and good wishes. In the evenings, snatches of old songs can be heard as one passes down the main street. Good friends share quiet moments, and families relish the joys of togetherness. The hard times ahead, working the fields and tending the herds through the sweltering heat of summer, are forgotten for a time, and everyone feels complete. In a small room on the upper floor of the local tavern, El Dupree lies contentedly on the floor. He sees in his mind's eye times long past, or perhaps yet to come, the fleeting visions softened by his drunken haze. This is his favorite time of year. Time to cease wandering, for a little while. Time to rest, to eat and to drink, to roll passionately in the late evening dust with Juanita while her brothers, the jealous Garcia boys, are out of hearing. His headsacks are strewn about the room, his shirt unbuttoned, or perhaps just bursting open where his impressive gut is swollen even more than usual. A trickle of drool makes a sticky puddle against his cheek. His feet twitch pleasantly. The sonorous drone of his labored breathing harmonizes with the buzz of flies about his body. Sight is fogged, life is good. Soon it will be time to head west, once again to pick up the trail of Delray Dupree, his only son, his chief tormentor. Or perhaps to seek out the mysterious woman that some are calling Tortilla Dupree, La Cooperativa, supposed sister of El Dupree, who spreads wide and often in search of Nirvana, though she has never been to Seattle. So many journeys, so many yet to come. But for now, enlightenment is once again in a bottle, contentment in the overwhelming odor of Masa Harina and dried sweat, though the difference is minimal. Juanita knocks quietly, pauses, then opens the door, leading her brothers into the room.