Tres
could barely keep his eyes open as he prepared to leave the UTSA campus after
the day’s classes. As he passed the
fountain, he had to blink to make sure that he wasn’t seeing things. There in the fountain was a familiar looking
boy. He shut his eyes tight and then
opened them.
“Nope. I didn’t go away,” said the boy in the
fountain. “I’m really here.”
“I
was hoping last night was just a bad dream brought on by too many tequila
shots.”
“No,
you weren’t drinking and if I do say so myself, you shouldn’t. It’s a bad habit and has been the downfall of
many of the Olympians. But I am not here
to lecture you on the dangers of strong drink.
I am here to deliver a message.”
“Since
when is the son of Poseidon in the business of delivering messages? Isn’t that some other guy’s job?”
“Well
technically yes, but there is a push for more cross-training on Mount Olympus,
so I am doing some contract work for Hermes.
If I do well, my next job will be with Athena.”
“All
right, already. Just deliver the
message and leave me to my headache.”
“You
failed in your first encounter with the chupacabra because you forgot the
lessons of your abuelo. And also, relying on Felix and his penguins
is always a tricky proposition.”
“What
lessons from my abuelo? I don’t even speak Spanish?”
“Are
you sure? According to my briefing, the
secrets of the chupacabra were passed down from the Aztecs to their descendants
in Mexico, passing from grandfather to grandson.”
“The
only problem with that theory is that I’m not Mexican.”
“Well,
I’m sure the proper term is Mexican-American or Latino. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“No,
it’s not Mexican or Mexican-American or Aztec-American. My family is Spanish even though I don’t
speak a word of it. My father was
elected Sheriff of Bexar County because people thought he was Mexican-American. However, he wasn't and I’m not. There are no secrets passed down to me from
my abuelo. As a result, I was just
winging it out there. I figured that
when a kid showed up talking about penguins and magic that that was my clue.”
“Oh
dear,” said Percy. (I am assuming that
the reader picked up the hint that the boy in the fountain at UTSA was demigod
Percy Jackson). “If you are not the
keeper of the secrets of the chupacabra, we have a big problem. Once the chupacabra eats all the goats, it
will turn to eating humans and there will be a terrible carnage unless it can
be driven back to its lair. Think. Is there someone you know of Mexican descent
who is unusually wise in the ways of San Antonio, who always knows everything
from where to find the best bowl of menudo to where the bodies are buried?”
“Yes,”
said Tres, “that would be my friend, Ralph Arguello. The only problem is that he died in Mission
Road. Tres’s throat caught for a moment
as he recalled the image of Ralph’s lifeless body, clad in his trademark
guayabera shirt, size XXL, in his coffin. “Look. unless you can conduct a séance, we’re
not going to be talking to Ralph. At
least not in this lifetime.”
“Don’t
be silly. Seances aren’t real. What you have to do is go to Hades to talk
to Ralph and gain the secrets of the chupacabra.”
“Is
that all?”
“I
realize that it’s not done that often.
As a matter of fact, Hercules and Dante are the only persons I can think
of who crossed the River Styx and came back.
However, you have one advantage they didn’t have. You have me to tell you the way.”
“Are
you coming along?”
“Oh
no, there would be Hades to pay if I did.
But I can show you the way.”
“Go
away kid,” said Tres, who promptly got in his truck and drove home.
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