Desperado Monologues

Former musician and gunslinger El Mariachi arrives at a small Mexican border town after being away for a long time. His past quickly catches up with him and he soon gets entangled with the local drug kingpin Bucho and his gang.

That's my brand. Oh, this is damn good! Say, this is the best beer I've ever had. Actually...

I'm just glad to be alive right now. I was up a few towns away- you know Saragosa? I was visiting a bar there, not unlike this one. They serve beer, not quite as good as this, but close. And I saw something you wouldn't believe. I'm sitting there, see, small table all by myself. Now this bar, it's full of real low-lives. I mean, not like this place here. No, I mean bad. Like they were up to no good, know what I'm sayin'? Anyway, I'm all by myself, I like it that way. Meanwhile, things are going on... under the table kinds of things. Not too obvious, but, not too secret, either. So, I'm sitting there, and in walks the biggest Mexican I have ever seen. Big as shit. Just walks right in like he owns the place. Now, nobody knew quite what to make of him, or quite what to think. There he was and in he walked. He was dark, too. I don't mean dark-skinned. No, this was different. It was as if he was always walking in a shadow. I mean every step he took towards the light, just when you thought his face was about to be revealed, it wasn't. It was as if the lights dimmed, just for him.

Just try and keep it from turning into a fucking bloodbath, all right? Not like last time.

The stranger shot him, walked over to the bartender, paid, and left.

Now, I wasn't interested in his drink. No, I was more interested in what he was carrying when he walked in. Some sort of a suitcase, kind of heavy. And he sat that thing on a stool beside him as if it were his girl.

Suddenly they got very interested in who you were. So, I laid the story down nice and thick.

So, anyway, without warning, without any hint or preview, the stranger whips around, and he sees… me.

Ya know, one of these days you're gonna lie down too hard on that thing and blow your brains out.

This reminds me of a joke. This guy comes into a bar, walks up to the bartender. Says, "Bartender, I got me a bet for you. I'm gonna bet you $300 that I can piss into that glass over there and not spill a single, solitary drop." The bartender looks. I mean, we're talking, like, this glass is like a good ten feet away. He says, "Now wait, let me get this strait. You're tryin' to tell me you'll bet me $300 that you can piss, standing over here, way over there into that glass, and not spill a single drop?" Customer looks up and says, "That's right." Bartender says, "Young man, you got a bet." The guy goes, "Okay, here we go. Here we go." Pulls out his thing. He's lookin' at the glass, man. He's thinkin' about the glass. He's thinkin' about the glass. Glass. He's thinkin' about the glass, glass. Thinkin' about his dick. Dick, glass, dick, glass, dick, glass, dick, glass, dick, glass, dick, glass, dick, glass. And then, *foosh*, he lets it rip. And he-he's pisses all over the place, man. He's pissin' on the bar. He pissin' on the stools, on the floor, on the phone, on the bartender! He's pissing everywhere *except* the fucking glass! Right? Okay. So, bartender, he's laughing his fuckin' ass off. He's $300 richer. He's like, "Ha, ha, ha, ha!" Piss dripping off his face. "Ha, ha, ha, ha!" He says, "You fucking idiot, man! You got it in everything except the glass! You owe me $300 punta." Guy goes, "Excuse me just one-one little second." Goes in the back of the bar. In back, there's a couple of guys playing pool. He walks over to them. Comes back to the bar. Goes, "Here you go, Mr. Bartender, 300." And the bartender's like, "What the fuck are you so happy about? You just lost $300, idiot!" The guy says, "Well, see those guys over there? I just bet them $500 a piece that I could piss on your bar, piss on your floor, piss on your phone, and piss on you, and not only would you not be mad about it, you'd be happy."

Is that goin' on right now?