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Of course I graduated top of the class there as well. A few months after my completion of school I was hired by the Pablo Corp. to design new programs for Pabloze95. My life was turning out just how I had planned, but after one year of my dream it all came to a crashing halt. Pablo Corp, a company that was on top of the computer industry began to take a big fall with risk taking that just was not working out. All of our new release were plummeting as we were being beaten by smaller, more concentrated companies.So of course when there is a cut in profits, there is a employee cut. I was one of these cuts, or so they told me around 2 years ago. So I decided to take some time off and do a little traveling, and possibly find myself a new job. I traveled to small towns in Georgia, Kansas, Alabama, and I wound up having an unexpected stay in Mexico. I was back in familiar territory,or so I thought... I had been driving all night and my gas tank was low, and my wallet light. So I got off the highway at a small town called San Rios. The town was about as big as one block of any major city. They had a few dirty decrepit hotels, and of course a saloon. So I parked my car on the grass, which looked like it hadn't seen rain in 20 years, and walked towards the hotel. In front of the hotel was a sign which read The Chi-Chi's Inn. This boring sign looked like it had weathered quite a few sandstorms as the paint was faded, and was barely legible. I really didn't have a choice though, so with a little hesitation I swung open the door and stepped inside. I walked in to see a candle lit room, with a dreary old man sitting on a stool right behind which once looked like a reception desk but had been severely chipped, and scratched. Right before I even asked for a room he told me that this town doesn't receive many visitors. I thought this was very strange, and normally if I was in better financial status I probably would have turned right around got in my car and never turned back, but these were hard times. So I asked how much for a room and he responded by saying "3 dollars". So I dug deep into my pockets and scraped together 3 dollars in assorted change.He looked at the money as if he had never seen it before, and then put it in his right hand pocket. He then proceeded to hand me a silver key and said with slight cackle "room number thirteen". I opened the door to find a room filled with absolutely nothing but a jail housecot, but then I realized you get what you pay for. So I took off my jacket and put my head down on this pillow which seemed it was last washed before bleach was invented. I tossed and I turned, but I just couldn't seem to fall asleep so I decided to venture into town, or whatever you call 3 buildings in a huge sand lot. As soon as I walked out of the hotel the Saloon stared me right in the eye. It looked like one of those old fashioned saloons you would see in a John Wayne movie, but my throat was parched and I needed a stiff drink. So, I pushed open the doors and walked in. For a town consisting of 3 buildings this bar was awfully crowded. The walls were lined with aging portraits of many insignificantpeople. There was no floor, only a layer of dust, just like in the old western flics. The tables were scattered throughout the room, in no particular pattern or order. Clouds of cigar smoke rose to the ceiling giving the saloon a terriblesmell. There must have been fifty, or sixty people in there. They were all dressed in cowboy attire, and it made me feel like a city slicker outkast. So with everyone's eyes burning a hole in the back of my head, I strolled up to thebar. I Should probably tell you now, rather than later on in my story, that I took various courses in self-defense. The moment I walked into the bar, I knew it would probably come in handy. My kung-fu teacher, Haiyto Kishobie always taughtme that the best offence, is defence. I kept my eyes peeled for any sort of attack from all sides. I sat down on a stool that looked like it was about to give way and break, and as soon as my eyes met up with the bartender without saying a word he said, "Lemme guess. You ain't got no money do you boy?". I wasn't going to lie so I said " how did you know? " "We get fella's like you all the time. They come work here at the saloon for awhile and try and earn some money to get back to civilization as they call it" "I don't really need work. I'm just going to stay at the hotel next store for the night and then tomorrow I'm gonna get back into my car, and find a gas station. Then I'm on my way home". "I hope you have a lot of gas, because there ain't no gas station for at least 50 miles." "In that case, I'll take a double vodka and lime." "You ain't got no money boy." I had completely forgotten I had not a nickel to my name, so I thought about it and maybe working for this guy would not be such a bad idea. Just for the night so I could make a little cash, and get something to quench my thirst. "How aboutI work for you until sunup? That's 6 hours from now, and I will work for 5 dollars an hour, and one drink." "I tell you what, you work until sunup, and watch the bar for me and I will pay you 50 dollars, and I will let you get your drink at that time." "I don't really have a choice so its a deal." I didn't even bother to ask him his name, it just didn't come to mind at the time. "You might just make it yet city slicker. One thing though, if you hear Jesse comin, you are to get out of here as fast as you can boy. Jesse is not a person you wanna see face to face. Is that understood?" "Yes, I understand completely." At this point I'm thinking I may have made a mistake but I could use that 50 dollars, and I could sure use that drink. So within a few minutes he was gone and I was behind the counter taking drink orders. Everything was going great, and it was just 30 minutes to sunup, but my thirst was just unbearable. So I decided It wouldn't be such a bad idea if I hadmy vodka and Lime now. So I mixed the drink and was about to take a swig when all of a sudden a cowboy who looked like he had been through World War II walks in and began shouting "Jesse is comin!" I never saw a bunch of people leave a place so fast. I was so petrified I froze up, and before I knew it I was standing in that bar all alone. All of a sudden the bar doors flew off the hinges and in walked a mysterious man dressed in black. It had to be Jesse, because this guy made my heart beat faster then a drum. He said "I want a drink." So with my unsteady hand I picked up a shot glass and poured him a drink of gin. He took the shot glass and crushed it in his hand. He said "I said, I want a drink boy. Gimmie that bottle of Gin you just opened." So I quickly reached over and handed him the bottle of gin. He finished the whole bottle in one giant Swig. He then fired two shots from his six shooter and said "I would like to stay here and have another bottle but Jesse's comin, and I don't wanna be here when he gets here. If I were you I would get out of here as fast as I could." Then my inner instinct kicked in. FUCK THAT. I'm staying; If Jesse wants a pieceof me, then he'll get his spoon full. Quickly, I jumped out of my tattered ragsand into my kung-fu fighting suit. "Ayyyyyyeeee-YAH!" The man was taken a back by my recent change of personalities. He swore under his breath and aimed his six shooter at my nuts. My training took over at this moment. In a daring move,I jumped up onto the bar counter and proceeded to deliver short, yet violent jabs to the man's bearded face. After about a dozen blows, the man slowly fell to the ground, hitting it with a dull, 'THUD'. I looked at him, checked for a pulse, found one, and then decided to leave. Thiswas definately not worth $50. I walked out of the saloon and headed towards thenext building. Maybe their was a phone in there that I could use to call my oldfolks at home. I walked in, and realized my mistake. It was a sweat shop. A large man with a whip sat on a stool, beating the little children until they couldn't speak anymore. Infuriated by his actions, I decided to put an end to it. I walked up to the man and asked him his name. "Jesse", he replied, "Who wants to know?" I stammered, "It is I. Pablo, defender of the Mexican children of the sweat factories in North America." A quick roundhouse to the head, and all went black. I awoke in General Hospital, with my elderly parents standing by my side. I had been found in the middle of the road by someone passing by and they brought me to a hospital, where they transported me home. So here I am recovering from my various bruises, and you know what I hate the most? I still haven't had that drink. By: Rob and Adam aka Ellisdee/Makavelli and Maligore respectively. members involved: ellisdee/makavelli : story and font maligore: story aoh: outline of kung-fu guy chronicc: background, sweat shop, shading of kung-fu guy. SAUCE00blender entry Multiple Artists fuel&decadence 199706282jP