Be still mi beating corazon! The Unforgivable Unforgettable Unapologetic Mexican, Nezua Lim?n Xolagrafik-Jonez, has charmed his wicked way into the General’s sanctum sanctorum and what’s more, he’s telling the hot and steamy story of how he breached those stout Christian defences with his silky skills.
I’m picturing Antonio Banderas seducing Tommy Lee Jones… Oooh dear, I’ve come over all shivery and Salma Hayek.
Anyway. Get a grip, woman. The story so far:
AY DIOS MIO, I’M IN! Inside the walls of El General’s fortress. It took some work, but with great grace and determination, I have prevailed. And never before has such a world-weary and unapologetic wanderer as your narrator seen as well-guarded a bunker as this. The good Christian General’s fortifications are, for sure, a gleaming and splendiferous example of the manliest of American architecture! It is little to wonder that he speaks with such booming and heteropowered tones that he does. ?Claro! I tip my sombrero in his direction, and of all well-decorated hombres, he knows as well as anyone that I mean that in the manliest of ways.
[…]
IT ALL BEGAN ON A HOT AND FATEFUL DAY. I was out rounding up recruits for the glorious Reconquista plot wherein all Mexicans on the continent will communicate using subtle rustlings of Holy dried jalape?o peppers that have been clasped to the chest of liberal American virgins. Unfortunately, Michelle Malkin, Lou Dobbs, and Pat Buchanan seem to have stumbled onto our plan to organize as a massive group of starving, hunted, underpaid people, and are trying to warn the rest of the country. This will make the Great Pepper Plano de la Patria that much harder to bring to fruition, and our alliance with Mexiran may suffer. I must preempt these soggy pundits and thus, the great Aztl?n (heretofore secret and well-guarded) plot will be revealed?in it’s entirety and for the first time?in issue Three of the celebrated mag de la gente, which I expect all good soldader@s to purchase in solidarity! Using American media, we can communicate at fifteen times the speed of dried jalape?o, and thus stymie the efforts of these antagonists.
So there I was, scouting for hombres to join up and I spotted El General at the bar. He was standing with a few muscled and well-armed compa?eros, and I can only assume they were part of his vaunted militia, a force not unknown to me and my amigos. We glared at each other, as all utterly-heterosexual soldiers do in such a situation. We understood immediately that there was something fated. Was it combat? Was it a death? Was it glory?
Tempted your taste for titillating tales now? You’ll just have to go and read the whole thing…
Read more: Minuteman/Zapatista slashfic
