We wandered and toiled for what felt like forty years in the wildnerness when we came to the Mexican Bar.

“Look what the Lord hath provided for us!” Kelly exclaimed.

“He truly watches over our needs!” Jonah rejoiced.

“Oh Lord on high, beer us, please.” I prayed.

The Mexican bar was very colorful, and rainbow banners and light up signs covered the entire thing. Yet not one Mexican was sited. There were many women.

“This must be the work of the Devil,” said Jonah, “he is tempting us.”

“I agree,” said Kelly. “We must drink fast and put quarters in the jukebox for our salvation.”

I took the first turn loading it up with several hymns by the great song writers John Cougar Mellencamp, Tiffany, the Rolling Stones, and REM.

“Suckin’ on a chili dog outside of Tasty Freeze,” sang Jonah and Kelly. We all mimed punches to the ones in the song.

It became clear that our time in the desert was ending and we needed sustinance to continue drinking. Our exodus to the gas station was not uncomfortable as we had the words and sermons of the prophet ICE-T on audio cassette.

“I am totally on his dick,” said ICE-T’s interviewer.

We arrived near the Promised Land purchasing two hot dogs and two packs of cigarettes. We finished the Prophet’s sermon and continued to the Promised Land for last call.

There was much rejoicing and celebrating.

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