Buck shifted to dangle his feetses beside his bunk, ready to jump down if’n need be. Miguel came to his own bunk, the bottom one, and he grabbed hisself the towel he stole from Limey. He kept his face trained away from Buck, like he was either upset or pissed off at him or sump’in, he be wrinkling his nose like a nnoyed chimichanga. Buck took a big bite offa his jerky. The three Mexicans looked at Buck like he was in a no-gringo parta the cell block, and Buck curled his lip at that. This cell ain’t big ’nuff fer four Mexicans and they back hair, Buck thunk, but he don’t say it yet cuz he dunno what’s going upon. A few rough-and-rowdy Spanish words came tumbling outta Miguel and the three strangers.
Buck held that bra catalogue and got distractified by the Spanish lady upon the fronta it. She got tits like you wouldn’t believe, and it got Buck’s dingdong revving. Tits like s’mores, shit! Buck wanna rub his verga ‘tween ’em til the burros reach the summit! Shit! She got kinduva sad face, but Spanish gals is always mad, as Buck do reckon, they got that fiery blood. Buck could calm her down. The bra catalogue don’t show her pussy, course, but Buck could practically smell it, and he do hope that smell ain’t the scent of bunchesa Mexican nutsacks that done shoot jizz all o’er the bra catalogue in his hand.
