3 amigos

3 amigos advance with feeble paces under the sunn, fed up with the vicissitudes of the quotidian molestations, and transporting 4 bags replete of lingots, fruit of the robbery perpetrated at the National Bank in San Hilarito

they don't trust each other, because they live in the celluloid of a spaghetti western from the 1960's and there is so much gold to share in those bags, this is why they sleep with the guns cocked 'n' loaded and the hand nervous 'n' bony:

the tallest amigo with stone face and a humid cigarette in his lips lets his poncho fall on la seca off the ground and pronounces a question with expressionless rictus:

- "Are we going to Santa Rosita are we going are we?"

The amigo with chinese eyes pulls hiss silbery gun and menaces:

- "That was the plan that was"

in slow motion, with excessive care, the tall amigo picks the dusty poncho from the marronity off the ground and throws a distrustful and fixed stare at the amigo with chinese eyes, while his left hand slips slowly toward his hip, caressing hiss golden 

gun 


the amigo with Mexican hat looks at the other two with uneasy and wary eyeballs plethoric of fury, while the amigo with chinese eyes scrutinizes the stare of his two partners with curiosity and animadversion, so that his eyes get extremely narrowed like two coin slots

the hands get closer to the revolver now


the 3 men observe each other under the oxygen of the desert that's so dense no-one dares to open his dry mouth


something flashes in the air and the 3 revolving cylinders of the pistols are fired in succession







we see 3 amigos lying dead on the brown of the ground, inert like 3 logs, while el burro -overloaded with bags full of gold- starts marching tardily to the nearest town


Yuma, El Centro or Brawley.