Me: It is the rebels I am guessing. Monitoring for subversive conversation.
Wil: Could be some Sandinistas. I am in their hometown after all. Birthplace of Sandino himself.
Me: Well in that case, Viva Sandinistas! We love you!
Wil: Nice. Leon is also where that crazy poet gunned down Somoza. There are statues of him everywhere. Rigoberto Perez, I think it was. Cold John Lennon'd his ass. I could be wrong. I have had many Victorias.
Me: Well, when you are a dictator you have it coming. I mean, you have to know someone will pop a cap in your ass.
Wil: Yeah. Leon is like Boulder. Total liberal town. It would be like Pat Robertson coming to Boulder and making derogatory remarks about wheat grass. Some hippie would kill his ass.
Me: Or just try to offer him some really choice weed.
Wil: Ha! Tomorrow I head to Granada because this town sucks. Much like Boulder. I want wear a Somoza Rules t-shirt make a statement similar to your Shut Up Hippie bumper sticker. It might end up worse than someone keying my car, though.
Me: They tend to cut off your head for freedom of expression down there, Willie.
Wil: Man, if prison had air conditioning I would do anything to get thrown in. It is hot down here, Holmes.
Me: Like flames of hell hot?
Wil: Like sweat indoors but do not realize it until your shirt is soaked through hot.
Me: Like your balls sticking to your legs and smelling of old cheese hot.
Wil: Exactly. I stink really bad right now and there is a water shortage so I cannot do any laundry.
Me: You are in the jungle, dude. Fuck it. When we were in St. Lucia showers meant nothing to me. Mostly because after taking a shower I would not be able dry off for three days.
Wil: Good point. But my jeans are especially bad. Alright, I have to get the hell out of this steamy internet cafe because it is making me sweat more and smell worse.
Me: Remember to rubber up.
Wil: Will do. Adios!
Labels: boulder, history, im convos, tomfoolery, travels, wil