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The Chronicles of the Mexican Horse Thief III

The Chronicles of the Mexican Horse Thief III
Chondre had found a place for us to live, we had a meeting with the landlady and
were all good to go. At her house I saw Matthew for the first lime, he was her son-in- law
and had the cottage next to mine. We checked each other out, the way hard men do, he
looked dangerous and said very little. The day it was time to move I packed all my kit
and left Kempton Park. Chondre had all her stuff moved already, plus my stuff that was
at Dougie‟s farm. The next morning I awoke to a strange sound, it was a horse running
around out side. The space, the space. Gordon was our first visitor. I was unpacking my
home theatre; it was still in the booby trapped shopping trolley. I had missed one the
blades an cut a piece of meat out of my finger. About 4mm square with some yellow fat
attached. Taped up the wound and continued to set the system up. Then had to sit down
for a bit, stupid little wound had made me all wonky! Finally fished up and we had
sound. Pink Floyd, of course.
I was still working a few days a week at gordart Gallery, the traffic was a nightmare,
hated the fact that I had to go out there. One day, going into the gallery, with Kathy as a
passenger. We stop at a major intersection in Auckland Park area. I person at the traffic
light offers free samples, I don‟t even look what and say, “No!” Kathy stretchers over me
and takes the samples…. Free condoms, for fucks sake! The chap then demands money. I
tell him I have none, which is perfectly true. He demands the samples back, Kathy won…
See won‟t give. O ld lady, Kathy is a, born again Christian black lady. You figure. So the
light changes and I start to pull away. The guy punches me a solid one in the face! I stall
the car in the middle of the intersection, peak hour traffic, mind you. I get out the car,
walk up to the guy who is now hurling abuse at me. I kick his ribs in with my right boot.
He screams, staggers around a bit, clasping his side, then swears at me some more. As his
arms are clutching his injured side I kick his ribs in with my left boot. More screams,
then his hands drop to his belt line behind his back. I think, “weapon!” My left hand has
my gun out and cocked in an instant, I am yelling at him, that if he moves his hands
another inch I will fucking shoot him. By now the traffic is snarled up nicely and I have a
very large and irate audience. A taxi driver gets out and I am worried this whole thing is
going to end in a bloodbath. The taxi driver klaps the guy and tells him, “Say sorry to the
Baas.” I use this diversion to jump in my cars and wiggle my way out of there. Don‟t
need any shit with the cops. I am so pissed off with Kathy, I cannot even look at her. Free
fucking condoms. Shit.
The next couple of weeks were pretty mundane, met Matthew‟s wife Jennifer and his two
daughters; one was the same age as Jared. I had a little office off the bedroom and
Section Eight was doing okay. Chondre must have being happy as she was putting on
weight…. Or am I confusing animal behaviour with women‟s behaviour? At the Gallery
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