March 18, 2010
searching for the house of Ruben Bustes
Daryl, Sheila and I saw something today we think is the setting for a story. Driving through an old Oak Cliff neighborhood, looking for the house of Ruben Bustes (that’s a story in itself), we came across a one story ranch on a corner lot. The back was fenced with low chain link fortified inside with cactus. Inside the yard was another fence, also fortified with cactus, that housed a small dog house. I think that’s all we’ve got. Please tell us what it means.
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Well, obviously, inside the doghouse is another fence, fortified with cactus. You need a tiny tiny person to wear the cloaking device from that post a couple higher up the page from this one, and go in there and find out what the hell happens next.
tiny cactus fortified dogs.
No no no. You have to go and get the cloaking device and go in there, doggammit.
The cacti were those funky-looking prickly pears that the nopales come from.
Lucy, if you look just over your shoulder you might not see me now.
Ruben Bustes, man. He had a vision. He inspired a movement. An aesthetic movement.
Okay cool. Now go in and negotiate with the tiny little cactus people.
An aesthetic movement, pendejos. He didn’t have no time for no tiny little dogs or no tiny little people. Ruben Bustes, he was large. Larger than life.
Must be hard to be that large. Hard to get health insurance, for starters.
Luci, chica, Ruben Bustes, he was a force.
This completely explains that row of cactus I spotted in front of a fence in Santa Barbara.
That is, like, pure West Coast frontera style, Quelcita. In Texas, the people, they put the cactus on the inside of the fence. It’s a different statement, hija.
Oh, no. I was supposing that perhaps we’re all inside the Texan fence.
cloak of invisibility, bitches.
Stand back, sir. My nipples are not for your perusal.
Y’all bitches live in the doghouse inside the fence inside the fence.
invisible!
Oh! I love this thread; sorry for being so late in getting to it. I’ll jump in while the double ropes are still snicking against the pavement.
The inner fence and cactus for the dog are an arangement that allows sleep. See how the dog frets, dreaming, and then lies still. All walls will be breached, but perhaps only one at a time–allowing a chance to say thank you and goodbye.
Dream, dog. Just for a little space.
La vida es sueño, perro.
Don’t chinga with Ruben Bustes, man.
[...] Sheila and I returned to the scene of the crime. Behold! The house of Ruben Bustes! [...]