Mother Earth's Spa

In 1980 Fidel Castro opened Mariel Harbor allowing any Cubans who wanted to leave to do so. 

Boats of every size and shape cram 100s of refuges aboard, in many cases precariously so, encumbering safety on the small craft. Thus began the freedom flotilla to Key West and Miami.

No one in South Florida could have predicted what was in store when the first few boats reached Miami from Mariel in April 1980. 

As the madcap scene unfolded the only thing authorities could do was try to contain it. So, they constructed a number of fenced-in ghettos under freeways in South Miami to buy time. 

The opening clips of Brian De Palma’s film Scarface visually lay out the what of, of the initial days of the Mariel Boat Lift, sketching the humanity of the milieu vividly.

As immigration officials began interrogating the Marielas it was clear Fidel had taken a colossal dump on the US, opening the doors of Havana’s prisons and mental facilities, even providing transportation for the misfits to Mariela Harbor by bus.

Fidel surfaces as the clear winner of the dodgeball contest with Jimmy Carter, the CIA, and FBI, using the boat lift to rid Cuba of undesirables at America's expense, demonstrating that he could make revolution in ways yet to be invented.

At the time of the boat lift, Henry’s wife Lucia was working as a high-class hooker in Havana to make ends meet, but her calling was acting, having appeared as a supporting actress in the post-revolution films—Vampiros en La Habana, Un Hombre Exitoso, and Cecilia. 

Henry, Lucia and their lover, Summer Wynd, are sitting at a small table on the porch of their Key West bungalow enjoying strawberry crepes and coffee. The Chis beg for scrapes as Pedro the woodpecker eats sunflower seeds and fruit from a bowl on the lawn.

Henry's working on a story about the Mariel Boat Lift for HEADBANGER Magazine, published in the Big Apple. Lucia knew Fidel well because he was a regular client. Seeking out first-hand information he asks,

Darling, were you hanging out with Fidel during the Mariel Boat Lift? What can you tell me about his mood at the time? Cackling as she passes a joint to Summer Wynd she answers,

Jimmy Carter put a bug up Fidel’s culo, demanding he release all Cubano political prisoners. Fidel was angry with Carter and one night after a few drinks he tells me, 

the gringo Carter wants me to release all

political prisoners, so, I’m going to open their cages and put them on boats to Miami. 

3 days later, I went to Fidel’s house in Havana, he was borracho, full of himself, drinking and laughing with his brother Raul and a couple of his generales. It was obvious the Mariela Boat Lift was a coup. Fidel is an ass, but he is a brilliante ass! Lucia’s accounts of her time with Fidel are helpful, Henry then asks,

did you spend time with Fidel during the Cuban Missile Crisis? Humored she answers, 

estúpido, I was 16 in 1962.

After brunch Henry goes to his office to wrap the story on the boat lift. Lucia and Summer Wynd put on bikinis and t-shirts, collecting the Chis and Pedro the Woodpecker for an afternoon at Dog Beach. They put the Chis in a doggy box and Pedro will follow airborne.

Lucia drives the Vespa to Dog Beach as Summer Wynd sits behind her holding the doggy box. 

They park the scooter, let the dogs out, walking a short distance in the sand and renting canopy chairs and towels.

As the Chis, Che and Mia chase each other, running in circles, the girls set their chairs back, pull the canopies forward, take off their t-shirts and lay on their backs facing the sea in their delicate knitted bikinis.

Local beachgoers walking with their dogs on the shore stare as they pass, because the girls look breathtaking in their skimpy bikinis.   

Lucia lights a joint and passes it to Summer Wynd. A breeze blows off the ocean, cooling and revitalizing them as the sounds of waves breaking on the shore calms the pair. Summer Wynd, enjoying the suchness of the moment waxes poetically,

the beach, oceanic crust, sun, and seawater working together, spawning minerals which nurture, it’s mother earth's spa! Lucia eats it up, 

I love you, darling, you’re a poetisa!

Pedro the woodpecker shows, landing near Lucia’s feet with his back to the sea, bouncing in place as though he's dancing, happy to see everyone.

As the sun sets the girls are dry. They didn’t go swimming, fearful the seawater would mess up their hair and ruin their bikinis. Instead, spending time glued to the canopy chairs talking about stuff women talk about when there are no men around. Lucia says to Summer Wynd, 

come on baby, there’s a pet-friendly restaurant across the street, let’s go have a drink. 

Wearing t-shirts they cross the street, and the Chis and Pedro follow, going inside the Island Dog Bar and sitting at a booth with the Chis and Pedro, who perches on a napkin holder as the little dogs sit on the vinyl booth with their heads above the table. 

The bar exudes character, built in the 40s, there are old surfboards over the bar and red Christmas stockings hang everywhere. It was April and the Christmas decorations were still up, apparently, the owner loved Christmas

The girls order a pitcher of Budweiser, a dozen oysters, seared tuna, a roasted crab salad, and french fries. 

Then, Henry who has been working all afternoon shows, the girls surprised, asking,

how did you find us?

You told me you were going to Dog Beach! 

He orders a blue cheese hamburger and another pitcher of beer. The food comes and they share, Lucia feeds the Chis and Pedro fries. Henry reminding Summer Wynd, 

darling, it’s Monday, you were supposed to start work today.

Summer Wynd was hired to teach dance at the Martha Graham Dance Academy on Friday. She had danced with the New York City Ballet for the last 10 years and she had taken some time off to allow her body to heal from the strains of professional ballet. 

She says,

I forgot, well, I’ll call Miss Aecup when we get home.

After eating the girls ride the Vespa to the bungalow, Pedro flies and Henry takes the Chis in his station wagon, stopping at the Lost Weekend Liquor Store which is in a decrepit old 2 story wood house that looks like it could collapse at any minute. He walks inside, quickly buying a case of Budweiser and leaves, happy to be safely back in the station wagon. 

At home the tribe, the Chis and Pedro the woodpecker are in the living room, the pets munch on popcorn as Henry, Lucia, and Summer Wynd drink beer, watching the 60's film, Midnight Cowboy.

As the film opens Joe Buck, played by Jon Vought, quits his job as a dishwasher. Joe believes he possesses an uncommon sexual prowess that can be marketed for big money in New York City. 

After telling his boss at the diner to shove the job, Joe gets on a Greyhound bus, looking like a funky dime-store cowboy, carrying a tiny suitcase with a fresh shirt and an extra pair of pants inside.

As he rides the bus he flashes back on the queer life he has lived, having been raised by his Mother and Grandmother who were prostitutes.

When he gets to New York City he checks into a seedy hotel. There's a flashing neon sign across the street from his room which reads,

                                   MONEY

He heads out in his cowboy gear, wearing a fringed buckskin jacket, a second-rate black cowboy hat, and boots, feeling studly.

Joe Buck is small town naive and he doesn’t know it yet, but the Big Apple is going to eat him alive. 

It's 2 PM and he's walking the streets of Manhattan, where he thinks the money is. He meets a sexy mid-aged Jewish woman who is walking her poodle. They go to her penthouse and have sex. After finishing he asks her for money and she's insulted because she is a hooker, so the schlepper pays her.

Later in a bar, he meets Ratso Rizzo, played by Dustin Hoffman, who is greasy from head to toe and appears to be decaying. 

Ratso hustles Joe Buck out of his last few dollars, but, Joe catches up with him later and threatens to kick Ratso’s ass if he doesn’t come up with the money.  

In short time they make-up, Ratso becomes Joe’s manager and they go on to make a few bucks hustling. 

One evening they're drinking coffee and eating saltines in a diner as Viva, an Andy Warhol superstar and her boyfriend walk in. The bi couple thinks Joe is hot, Viva takes his picture with a Polaroid camera, inviting him to an LSD party at the couple's apartment later. 

At the party, Rasto stuffs his overcoat pockets with food from the buffet table as Viva humiliates him saying, 

the food's free, you don't have to steal it, and why don't you go take a bath?

The apartment is full of socialites and wealthy hippies who are tripping on acid and dancing.

Joe smokes pot for the first time giggling, feeling as though he is being swallowed up by the light show and psychedelic music.

Then he hooks up with a seductive socialite who agrees to pay him a 100 dollars for sex and give Ratso, who is suffering from pneumonia, cab fare back to the derelict apartment building he and Joe are crashing in. 

Later, Joe shows at the rundown building, worried Ratso will die if he doesn't get to a warmer climate. The following day Joe buys Greyhound bus tickets to Florida.

As the bus travels south, Ratso is getting sicker. The bus stops at the Florida border and Joe buys some cut-price summer clothes, flowered shirts, khaki pants and gym shoes, which they change into. Later, Joe speaks of future plans to Ratso,

Shee-it, you know, I got this thing all figured out, Ratso. I mean Rico. When we get to Miami, what I'll do, I'll go to work. I gotta do that, cause see, I ain't no kind of a hustler. I ain't even any goddam good as a bum. I'm a nothing, that's what I am. So reckon I'd better go to work and get me a goddam job. Okay?

A few miles down the road Joe thinks Ratso is sleeping and jostles him, then realizing Ratso is dead.

The Chis and Pedro the Woodpecker are sound asleep, Henry, Lucia, and Summer Wynd are crying, so Lucia passes a box of Kleenex around and says, 

Henry, whaat-ya say we have a LSD party next weekend?

Gully Wash and Johnny Cakes

On this day in 1985, the headline in the Miami Herald editorial section ran as follows,

                Tallahassee, the Drunkest City  

                                  in Florida

Tallahassee has the lowest employment rate in Florida because residents are often too hungover to go to work. Many Talhasseeans are depressed, feeling they have nothing to live for. When Rico, who was drowning his troubles in a local bar was asked the why of it? He said, 

Miami has a football and basketball team and we don’t. We live a few miles from Georgia so we follow the Atlanta teams. Over the years Tallahasseeans have lost their identities, adrift somewhere between Florida and Georgia, so we drink. 

It’s noon in happy town, Key West! Henry, Lucia, and Summer sip expresso on the front porch of their 3 bedroom bungalow as the Chihuahuas and Pedro the Woodpecker play outside. The phone rings, Henry runs inside, it’s Dave Spleen, speed freak and editor of HEADBANGER Magazine, published in the Big Apple. 

Dude, man, last week’s story, What Flavor are You? A total bust, and it’s no wonder. A story on the taste of vaginal discharge and semen? What were you thinking when you wrote it? At a loss, he answers, 

Dave, I wasn’t thinking, I write from my soul. Dave realizing he can’t change him,

OK, Henry, you’re the artist, just clean it up some, gotta go, got a deadline to meet!

At the heart of it, Dave wanted to get as many magazines on the streets and in reader's hands as possible, which translated into greater revenue. If a piece on the taste of sexual discharge attracted readers, he'd let it float. 

It's a slow Thursday afternoon and the temperature is a perfect 68 degrees.  Summer Wynd is on the run from the New York City Ballet, where she had danced for the last 10 years. On Monday she'd begin a new job at The Martha Graham Dance Academy in Key West. 

As they finish their expressos, Henry suggests they take off for the weekend,

Whataya say we go to the Bahamas? We can drive to Miami and catch a ferry to Nassau. Lucia wondering, 

what about the babies? Henry like Ike planning D-Day,  

let’s get cracken, Summer call a pet sitter, Lucia book 3 tickets for the 10 AM ferry to Nassau, we’ll get up at 6 and drive to Miami! Lucia smiling, 

si, el comandante! 

The tribe stays home Thursday night, ordering pizza, the Chis love it, but Pedro the woodpecker wouldn't touch it, so Lucia gives him a bowl of sunflower seeds, which he opens meticulously with his powerful beak to get at the tasty inner pulp.  

Nibbling on pizza and drinking beer, they watch the 1966 film, The Wild Angels, made exclusively for drive-in theaters. Peter Fonda plays the president of The Wild Angels, his handle is Heavenly Blues, a simple-minded name that makes one wonder what his friends called him? Heaven, Heavy, Blues? Nancy Sinatra plays his girlfriend and her name is even more dimwitted than her boyfriend's, Monkey. 

The screenplay was written on the fly by Peter Bogdonavich, who overdosed on evil-pills during filming.

The opening scene was shot with a dirty lens, creating a muddy backdrop contrasting Blue's metallic and chrome chopper as he burns rubber on his way out of Venice Beach. 

Blue’s first order of business is to visit his pal, Loser, played by Bruce Dern, to tell him his stolen chopper has been found in Watts. Loser’s coworkers in the body shop don’t like Blue’s long hair so the man-babies threaten to quit if Loser isn’t fired, the boss tired of listening to the man-babies moan fires him. 

Then the fun begins, Loser and Blue have a run-in with the man, which figures because The Wild Angel’s credo is, 

We wanna be free to ride our machines without being hassled by the man! And we wanna get loaded! And have a good time! And that’s what we’re gonna do!

Anyway, Loser is shot dead by the man. In a few days, The Wild Angels show at his church funeral and the gang, hyped on bennies, turn the God faring scene into a carnival of rape and butt-kicking. 

Blue knocks his old lady Monkey out and has sex with another woman behind a pew. Then, the party animals pummel the priest and tie him up, exchanging the bound clergyman for Loser in the coffin. 

If that wasn’t enough, Dear John and Frankenstein rape Loser’s wife who is flipping the bill for the service as the rest of the gang strap Loser's lifeless body with rope and hang it on the church crucifix. 

The mock crucifixion is a don't tread on us declaration to the man reeking of messianic suggestion.   

During the 10 minute scene, The Wild Angels break every taboo imaginable and invent a few of their own. 

Lucia tiring of the barbarism gets up and turns the TV off, saying, 

I love, love, I love making love, I love fucking! But, Rape is repugnante! Fidel would have thrown el estúpidos burros who made The Wild Angels in the hole to rot. Henry defending  artistic license,  

in America artists are free to create, some of their work is good and some bad, Summer what-a you think? She yawns, 

the goofy flick was made before I was born, gotta agree with Lucia, I like romantic films, anyway, night darlings! 

The tribe wakes at 6 AM, packing lightly, shorts, swimsuits, t-shirts, and flip flops. They get in Henry's 1974 Chevy Malibu Station Wagon and he wheels the big car through Key West, heading north on Highway 1.

Feeling woolly-headed, Lucia and Summer roll the car windows down, thinking the tepid sea air will wake them. After driving a while Henry pulls off the highway at Layton, Florida, going to Dunkin Donuts and parking. Summer walks inside and orders a dozen donuts and 3 large coffees with cream.

They eat as Henry drives, sipping coffee and munching a 1000 calories of fried fat apiece. Lucia rolls a joint as Summer who is sitting between them puts a cassette in the tape player, ZZ Top, Eliminator. 

Sharp Dressed Man blares through the aftermarket speakers, including a woofer under the front seat which vibrates so much that both girl's panties are soaking wet as Henry wheels the wagon into the Port of Miami and parks. 

Lucia pays 60 dollars for 3 reserved seats on the ferry to Nassau. In need of a drink, they go straight to the lounge, grabbing a table, ordering a pitcher of rum punch. As the ferry reaches Potter Cay port, the tribe is half in the bag. 

They quickly get through customs, luckily, Lucia’s Cuban passport is valid, she lives in the US as an illegal alien, heedless of the consequences. Henry's no better, he hadn’t filed a tax return in 10 years. They believed mentally blocking out thoughts of the IRS and ICE sheathed them in a protective aura, the voodoo would work until they got busted.

Anyway, they get in a taxi at Nassau International Airport, Summer telling the driver, an older black man in a flowered shirt, 

take us to a funky place downtown that’s old and full of color. 

In 20 minutes they are at Miss Emily’s Goombay Inn, a mid-city oasis consisting of 12 rainbow-colored wooden bungalows surrounding a small jungled park, each with a hot tub, a bamboo deck and wall.

The tribe walks into the front office, they are greeted by Miss Emily, a grandmotherly Bahamian woman with grey dreadlocks wearing a pink muumuu, smiling widely saying,

What da wybe is? Local Bahamian for, what’s up? Lucia saying, 

we’d like a room for 3 for 2 nights, Miss Emily gets down to business, 

that’ll be 70 US dollars, will you need a cot for your cousin? Or, are you all going to love together? Lucia laughs as she passes the biscuits and says, 

you're spot on sista!  

They walk into the small jungle, passing voodoo shrines on the way to Bungalow 9. The room is full of painted blue furniture and potted plants.

There's a sliding glass door at the back of the bungalow that leads to the deck where the hot tub is. Lucia, liking it, 

es maravilloso, we'll walk the city, party, then sexo en el bañera!

At night Nassau’s streets run native with smells of sea air, conch barbecuing on grills and the sounds of Junkanoo music blaring.

After prowling the wilds of the funky city, the tribe's hungry, they walk into Curly’s Tavern and sit at a table. The joint is unremarkable, mobbed with people and there's a tonic aroma of cooking food in the air. 

A sizzling Bahamian girl with blond hair styled in a Teeny Weeny Afro brings menus, Summer hands her the tribe’s bungalow key and says, 

You’re so, so ravishing! You must be exhausted darling, after work join us for a drink and a spin in the hot tub at Miss Emily’s! The model lovely black chic smiles mischievously,  

see you there, I get off at midnight. Henry with a lumpish grin on his face butts in, 

wonderful, you're busy so we should order, a pitcher of Gully Wash, conch salad, Jerk chicken, Bahamian fish stew, Pigeon peas with rice and some Johnny Cakes. 

The pitchers of Gully Wash came fast but the Bahamian fare takes time to stew, as good food should. On their 3rd pitcher of Gully Wash, the tribe is full-blown drunk, then the meal’s served, it’s sumptuous. Henry pays, leaving a hefty tip, and the drop-dead gorgeous waitress blows them a kiss, mouthing the words, 

love you, see you round midnight. 

Walking to Miss Emily’s they move clumsily through the night-time streets of Nassau. Henry sees a liquor store, Ko Ko’s, they go inside and buy 2 quarts of Mount Gay Barbados rum, a gallon of fresh guava juice and a bag of ice.

In Bungalow 109, Lucia turns on the radio to 107 ACE FM, all Caribbean music. Summer makes drinks as Lucia dances in place, swiveling like a corkscrew as she generates carnal current.

Summer runs outside in her underwear to a grassy area in the jungle between the bungalows, dancing the prima ballerina's role of the ballet Giselle. Henry sits on the grass watching, in awe of the young ballerina’s talent. 

The waitress from Curly’s shows, her name is Drea, she says, what da wybe is? And sits down with Henry. Lucia brings drinks and the 3 of them sit cross-legged watching Summer dance until she stops, flopping down in place, saying, 

I’m so outta shape, my body aches, let’s go chill in the hot tub. 

In a New York minute, the foursome is stark naked in the hot tub, luxuriating in the suchness of the moment. Summer moves towards Drea, they cling tight and sloppy kiss. Henry lifts and straddles Lucia on the deck of the tub, going down on her, when she's red hot, he fucks her. 

The paramours are a ball of kinetic passion, their tangled bodies shuffle from the hot tub to the bed, where they cum over and over as they traverse the way out sexual terrain. 

By 4 AM the girls have passed out in bed and Henry is asleep on the sofa.

Up at noon the following day, cleaning and grooming one another, Lucia combs Henry’s waist-length hair which is tangled from last night’s ruckus. Summer watches Drea section off, moisturize and style her TWA. Finally, the girls slip into their bikinis, then putting on t-shirts and flip-flops for the beach.

They walk a short distance to the Blue Sail Bar & Grill, which is on the beach, ordering Eggs Benedict, Loganberry crepes, Mimosas with Grand Mariner and a large pot of coffee.

After brunch they hit the beach, relaxing in lounge chairs and passing a joint around— getting high makes the already colorful scene even more colorful.

As the day at the beach blossoms, Henry, Lucia, Summer, and Drea smoke more Kush weed, levitating heavenwards into suspended animation. A reality more vivid than dreams which hovers over willing spirits with able flesh. Summer muses,

I feel as though I’m in a deluge, like Act 2 of Swan Lake when Odette is turned into a swan by the sorcerer Rothbart.

What Flavor are You?

In 1985 the first Columbia space shuttle was launched from the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Florida, a city that would be a non-starter without NASA. 

The shuttle Columbia was piloted by Robert L. Crippen and John W. Young. The biggest splash the astronauts made during their time at NASA was when they landed the shuttle, overrunning the runway and ditching the craft in a muddy pond. 

As the shuttle entered the thermosphere flames from its main engines seared the wings and hair off a flock of angels, disrupting Heaven's composure and riling up St. Peter, who in turn reported the melee to the Gods. 

Two weeks ago Henry and Lucia were on a road trip to Key Largo and they met Summer Wynd. In no time the threesome fell in love and are presently shacking up in Key West. She's a 24-year-old, model lovely, runaway ballerina, much younger than the couple, proof that love is amoral. 

It's noon, Henry is writing in his office, the phone rings, it’s HEADBANGER Magazine editor Dave Spleen, a well-known speed freak who took bennies to help him meet deadlines, speaking at whirlwind speed, 

sweet stuff, last week's story, Runaway Ballerina, a home run, New Yorkers loved it, HEADBANGER Magazine went through 5 reprints. Is it true? Henry chuckles,

yeah, all true, the 3 of us are in a, you ready for this? Polyamorous relationship. Dave Spleen turned on,

polysexual relationship? You dog you! Henry goes on, 

sure it’s sexual, but we’re sleeping with

each other one on one, no threesomes yet!

Lucia and I were drinking on a deserted beach, there was a loud cosmic boom, love goo percolates through the clouds and Summer materializes. Love reigns triumphantly as sunbeams herald the dawn of the tribe. Dave thinking Henry is laying it on a bit thick says, 

for fuck's sake, can the theatrics, so, what are you working on? Henry answers earnestly,

I'm writing about the day to day hooey of the tribe, Lucia, Summer, Che and Mia our Chihuahuas, and Pedro the woodpecker. Speed freak Dave says in less than a nanosecond, 

OK man, gotta go, gotta deadline to meet! 

It’s 10 AM at the tribes Key West bungalow, Henry and Lucia sip Mexican coffee on the front porch, the Chihuahuas run in circles on the lawn and Pedro the woodpecker drums out a beat as he pecks a palm tree, losing himself in the cadence, much like Gene Krupa.

Summer brings a hot German pancake in the skillet to the front porch, serving it to Henry and Lucia. It’s filled with berries and has powdered sugar sprinkled on top. Lucia’s astounded as she takes a bite,   

goodness, the crepe is maravillosa darling, you're so talented!

As they eat the colossal pancake, cutting it like pizza, Summer wonders, 

dearies, I have a job interview at 2 and I'm going to need a lift, Henry volunteers,

Lucia doesn’t drive I’ll take you, where is it? She replies, 

The Martha Graham Dance Academy, it's downtown, he says, 

We’ll take the Vespa, Lucia cuts in, 

not without me, he then says, 

OK, we’ll take the station wagon!

The tribe was hip to boot, but occasionally the day to day business of the threesome was as apple pie as The Brady Bunch.

Lucia gives Summer a dress for the interview. It’s a short ride to The Martha Graham Dance Academy, in a few minutes they're there, looking at one another and laughing, realizing they should have walked.

Henry parks across the street from the dance academy, near the down and dirty Dolphin Lounge. Summer crosses the street, walking to the dance academy and going inside. It's in a single-story brick building, at the receptionist desk she says,

My name is Summer Wynd, I'm here to interview for the teaching position, the receptionist looks at her blankly, handing her an application on a clipboard, saying, 

fill this out! Miss Aecup will be with you shortly.

Summer doesn't know the tribe's address so she makes one up. She had danced with the New York City Ballet for 10 years and the Ballet Mistress, Rosemary Dunlevy, was good for a glowing recommendation.

Miss Aecup enters the lobby, she greets Summer, they walk into her office and sit down. She is thin and flat-chested with a prominent mole in the middle of her forehead, like a 3rd eye, giving one the feeling Aecup is all eyes.

She glances through Summer's application, practically dropping a load as she reads that Summer had danced with the New York City Ballet, saying,

Miss Wynd, you are overqualified for the teaching position, and, we can't meet the salary the New York City Ballet paid you. Summer is taken aback, collecting her thoughts and then retorting,

Miss Aecup, whatever the academy can afford is fine. Your students have an opportunity to study with a noted ballerina, don't deny them that opportunity! She has Aecup in her little pocket, 

Miss Wynd, come for orientation on Monday, you'll be teaching with Gay Johnson, a member of the Royal Miami Ballet. 

On her way out she walks by the milk and water receptionist ignoring her, thinking, 

Royal Miami Ballet? What a crock of shit.  

Across the street, she sees the station wagon is empty and goes into the Dolphin Lounge, it's 3 in the afternoon and the tavern is dark and thick with smoke. 

Expecting to see Satan bartending, she sits on a barstool next to Henry and Lucia. They are drinking Boilermakers with a South Floridian poet known as Sucker Fish, a middle-aged hippie with long sun-bleached hair, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and cut-offs. She tells everyone the good news, 

I start teaching Monday at the dance academy, Lucia orders a round of Boilermakers for the tribe and Sucker Fish, feeling happy for Summer, 

wonderful darling, let’s celebrate! 

Sucker Fish's life is one never-ending carnival, he stands on a barstool to recite a poem he has written. The barflies in the Dolphin Lounge are hunched over their drinks, their minds nowhere, oblivious to Sucker Fish who begins his recitation. 

Hear ye, hear ye, landlubbers and scuttled buccaneers! I dedicate this poem to the bootylicious goddess of the sea, Florida's very own Amphitrite, the drop-dead gorgeous Lucia Varga! 

             Come to the beach

             Where the sea is blue

             And little white waves

             Come running at you

             A wave comes splashing 

             Over your toes.

             You just standstill 

             And away it goes.

             We’ll build a castle

             Down by the sea

             If you’ll come with me.

Summer rolls her eyes, looking at Henry and mouthing the words,

let’s get outta here,

still, on the bar stool Sucker Fish bows to the audience of sodden barflies, he accidentally falls on the floor, laying there in serious pain, holding his arm. 

Henry goes to Sucker Fish, wanting to help the wounded poet, noticing the bone of his left forearm has broken through the skin, yelling at the bartender, 

call 911!

The Key West Fire Department shows in seconds, carefully lifting poor Sucker Fish into a foldable stretcher and rushing him to Key West Medical Center. 

As the tribe leaves the Dolphin Lounge the 10 or so barflies are frozen in place, slumped over, anesthetized and dispassionate.

Driving home Lucia is shaken and says,

I will never go to Zalón de Delfines again, it’s an awful place! Henry laughs, 

In English, it's called the Dolphin Lounge!

The scene at the Dolphin Lounge was distressing. Inside the house, the Chihuahuas, Che, and Mia jump and shake, happy to see the tribe as Pedro the woodpecker chirps, perched on the TV. 

Lucia is busy basting a chicken that is in the oven and boiling red beans and rice.  Henry's watching Monday Night Football in the living room, Summer is sitting at the kitchen table chopping Collard greens and asks,

do you like Henry’s cock? Lucia smiles broadly answering,

yes, I love to swallow his cum, it tastes like salty raw oysters and chlorine. Darling, I think you know I turned tricks in Havana for years. Fidel Castro was a regular, he was hung like a burro and he’d sprinkle cocaína on the head of his pene, we would fuck for hours. El comandante’s esperma tasted like bloody bullets. Summer laughs out loud and says,

my love, your pussy tastes like duck sauce from a Chinese restaurant, so delish! 

As the 3rd period ends, it's the Dolphins 20 and the Eagles 6. Dinner is on the kitchen table, the girls sit on each side of Henry who is at the head of the table wondering,

Should I pray to the Gods for something, a Mercedes Benz maybe, or should I ask them to bless the food we are about pass through our digestive tract? Lucia thinking he was talking nonsense breaks in,

cut the shit Henry, you think you're prayerful? Well, you're not! Everybody knows you're an atheist. He goes on, turning a deaf ear to Lucia,  

Anyway, I was watching the ballgame, and let me tell you football’s no aphrodisiac, but, I was thinking about the times I’ve gone down on you guys. For reasons unknown, I took a double-A battery out of the remote and licked it to see if it tasted like pussy, and it did. 

The girl's wondered if he was eavesdropping on their carnal tête-à-tête in the kitchen? Summer bringing the conversation home says,   

Wouldn't life be a drag if we all tasted the same?