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He wasn't in Somalia. M. Night had taken residence in, where else but - Mexico City. It was all starting to come together.
I knew it would be a treacherous journey. There was that damn poision water, and of course the bulls. The bulls struck like the power of Zeus's lightning. You could never escape them, only hope to hide from them day after day. At times, the sewers would be your only home. In them, the hours stretched on for what seemed like days. The only thing I had to keep me going was Ms. Davis.
I felt the vibrations of a Nokia cell phone tucked deep into my pants pocket. I took it out, but unfortunately dropped it into the sewage. Didn't matter. I really didn't know how to answer my cell phone anyway.
At night, the bulls slept, and the homeless wandered. That's where I met Chico Valdinez.
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