El Cliff
A crowd was parked on the field for a party in Tarilas the night before the game between Los Tarilas and the Southside Dorados, the top and bottom of the standings in the Beer League de West Texas y Southeast New Mexico respectively. But a light but persistent drizzle kept everybody in their cars.
“The night’s sura,” Johnny said to Cliff, his traveling companion from the Southside.
“No-no-no vale madres,” Cliff stuttered, his left eye winking slightly.
He and Johnny had gone out and visited some of the other cars, but it hadn’t been fun. They did collect one tailgater, Boy, who followed them to Cliff’s white 1971 Buick Riviera coup. But they all soon saw there’d be no outdoor party.
“With these two bucket seats, we’re not gonna be able to camp here,” Johnny said.
“My ramfla has bench seats. One of you can sleep there,” Boy offered.
Cliff looked over at Johnny.
“Chale. It’ll be miserable. Let’s ponerle to Brogado. Maybe one of my kin’ll put us up for the night,” said Johnny.
Cliff looked at Boy, his left eye twitching.
Boy nodded, only now remembering Cliff’s peculiarities from childhood.
“Beer first,” Johnny said.
Cliff, a member of the huge Shepards family with kin everywhere in West Texas, knew exactly where to go.
“S-s-sit-nnnn-Bull?” Cliff said.
“Siról,” said Johnny.
They bought a case of beer then cruised around Tarilas before heading to Brogado.
“How-how’s college, ese?” Cliff asked Boy.
“De-de- aquellas,” said Boy, regressing into his own childhood stutter.
The road was long and lonely, but Cliff kept to the speed limit. He slowed when they came to a long curve. Coming out of it, police flashing lights went on.
“Stop de volada and hide the beer!” Johnny said.
His companions complied.
“Why’d you stop us, officer,” Johnny asked the patrolman from the passenger seat.
“Just checking,” the patrolman said, shining his flashlight first at Johnny, then Boy, then at Cliff, who winked several times at the officer.
Johnny saw this and looked back at Boy.
“Ma-madres,” he said.
The patrolman turned his flashlight back to Boy then to Johnny, who was now convulsing silently with laughter.
Cliff stirred a little, and the patrolman turned back to him.
“You OK?” he asked Cliff.
“Ye-ye-yeah,” Cliff said, winking more.
“You sure?” he asked, now focused on Cliff’s eye.
Cliff couldn’t vocalize a response but winked uncontrollably into the flashlight.
The patrolman then turned to Johnny, who was now tearing in silent laughter, and he got it. He then turned away himself to hide his reaction.
“OK, ya’ll get home safely and get off the road,” the patolman commanded, shaking his head as he walked away.
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