He was a real lady killer and although he was married and had k**s, his wife was always getting mad at him and throwing him out for one reason or another. As a young k** in college I couldn’t understand what was she found wrong in him. He was, after all, a perfect handsome, ex-marine, 6'2" tall (pretty tall for a Mexican) with curly black hair, cinnamon colored skin, well built with about 230 lbs on him and under his bushy mustache he had a smile that could melt ice. By the look in his eyes, you’d think that Chalie always had something up his sleeve. I learned later that what he really had was a fat, juicy piece of good ol’ uncut “chorizo” in his boxer briefs. Chalie flirted with my sisters and the other female workers like there was no tomorrow. He could even charm my mom into giving him time off with one of his half-baked excuses. One hot summer west Texas Friday, after working at the morning at shop, dad called us guys in to ask if who wanted to go down to our farm to. She was forced to stop, lift the motors and clean the debris with her hands; a messy and grizzly job.While maneuvering past the dead creatures, she drifted quite a bit. Each time she tried to recover and head back the way she wanted, the propellers would clog again. It was late evening before she entered the navy base's shipyards. She noted a smaller seawall to the side and motored into the Naval Sailing Center and Marina by the Naval Base Golf Course.It was late when she finally moored her craft to the dock and crashed in the stateroom. It was so small and cramped it could hardly be called such. She fell asleep immediately, exhausted by her long struggles. She didn't manage to sleep for long.The loud crash of the cabin's door being kicked open rudely awakened her. "Don't move!" a male voice shouted as a bright light shone in her face. Blocking it with her arm, she rolled out of bed but another figure intercepted her."Try to stand and you're dead!" Excuse me, I—" We don't care,.
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