The poetry of Beto Ochoa, Prose from a spiritual warrior


The Poetry Of Beto Ochoa~ Prose from a spiritual warrior

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Lucy Ramirez

The desert air cooled quickly as the sun sank behind El Paso. "I should have brought a jacket." grumbled the short man. The taller man got down off the backhoe and moved quickly to the back of the Suburban. "Shutup!" he barked "Help me with the package." The two men pulled the bodybag from the back of the SUV and tossed it into the hole. Then they threw in the half dozen new car batteries and a small time bomb. The tall man returned to the backhoe and expertly filled the hole. After the backhoe was loaded on the trailer and they drove quietly away there was a distinct thump where they had been digging. The tall man smiled and said "Call Shrum and tell him Ms. Ramirez has gone to Mexico."

Reading the sunday paper was interrupted by the clatter of his cell phone. Bob Shrum swollowed hard when he saw the caller ID. "I have to take this honey." he half apologized. The voice on the other end was almost jovial "Mr Shrum?" Shrum paused a long second "Yes it is." the voice continued "Mr Shrum we tracked Ms. Ramirez to a dead end. Apparently she has gone to Mexico."
Shrum muttered a terse thank-you and hung up immediately.
"Anything wrong dear?" Anything wrong!? After all this time she still hadn't learned not to ask that question.
"No honey. I just need to pass a message along." Shrum hit number three on the speed dial and somewhere in Austin a cellphone vibrated."
"Hello Shrummy; what's the word?"
"She's gone to Mexico"
"Excellent. I'll call Danny."

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My families came to Texas when It still belonged to Spain.



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