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What Happens in Mexico, Stays in Mexico



 
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Caleb Guillory

As sunrise peeked through the sheer curtains of the room one brown eye slipped open. Shit that hurt his head. He tried to remember the night before but the remnants of rum and vodka were still clouding his thoughts. He pushed himself onto his elbows and took a good look around the room. Things in his brains weren’t registering right, he rubbed his eyes and gazed around again. Something was really wrong with this picture. The room was adorned with hearts of various sizes and shades of red, even the pillows he’d been sleeping on matched. The honeymoon suite? He didn’t have time to think about that. That was when he heard the bleating that would wake him up from his groggy haze. He turned his head towards the sound and wasn’t surprised to see a Nubian goat just laying on a couch munching on a pillow. Why wasn’t he surprised by that? Better question: why did he know it was a Nubian goat?

He sort of stumbled and fell out the bed at once, hitting the floor with a thud. The goat stared down at him with slitted-beady eyes. That thing was creeping him. Untangling the sheets and blanket from his feet he dragged himself towards the window. This wasn’t his hotel in Los Angeles, which put him at the disadvantage of not knowing where he was. Pulling the curtain back just slightly he peered out. He was on the third floor looking out over what appeared to be the Gulf of Mexico. It was a beautiful sight and he would have been impressed if he wasn’t so damn confused. He let go of the curtain and looked at his surroundings again, he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there. He stared at the goat as though it would start word vomiting the answers to all his questions. No such luck.

“I don’t think we’re in Los Angeles anymore Toto.”

He looked down, thank God he still had his pants on. He took a moment to dig through the mess of bedding on the floor to find his shirt and with it his phone. Forgetting the shirt for a moment he unlocked his phone. 15 missed calls from Geneva, 5 text messages all asking where he was. How long had he been passed out in this room? That must have been some quality liquor to knock him down. Grabbing his shirt he pulled it on and shoved his feet into his boots which were luckily beside the bed. He sent a quick text to Geneva letting her know he was fine and he’d call her soon. Shoving his phone into his back pocket he started to head for the door but was stopped by the bleating goat. Fuck. He couldn’t leave a goat alone in the honeymoon suite, it would eat the whole damn thing. He stared at it not sure what to do.

“Well, you’ve got me in a conundrum now. Are you happy with yourself?”

He spoke as if the thing could understand what he was saying. The thing was huge, larger than most goats that he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure how it’d gotten in the room to begin and why the front desk had even let it in. He considered calling the front desk and asking for a bellhop to help him, but he wasn’t sure how that would go. In pondering the problem he noticed for the first time that the shower was running in the bathroom. Someone else was here. The goat was forgotten as he burst through the bathroom door, if it had been locked it wasn’t anymore. Standing at the sink he was confused by who he saw there. That spicy brunette who he’d flirted with a bit the other night. What was her name? He didn’t think she’d given him one.

“What the fu…”

His voice trailed off as he had a twinge of a memory from the night before.There was a quick flight.Then there had been a chapel, an Elvis option, a video chat with Neva, and Toto the goat. No. It wasn’t possible. She’d been there too. He stared at her another second then turned and walked out the bathroom door shutting behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed pondering his life choices as he waited for her to finish and come out.

What.

The.

Hell.
February 17, 2021 09:24 am

Whitley Wyatt

This was an absolute mess.

She had awakened to the same bleating, the same large domestic animal happily chewing away the fabric and stuffing from the dilapidated furniture; however, she wasn’t as confused as the male she had found herself waking up next to.

Sure, she knew what she was doing to begin with.

But now, now she had one question that absolutely needed answering.

How did the trickster get tricked?

Let’s take it back to the beginning.

There was some light flirting, of course. The hint of large quantities of alcohol; who could ever say no to that? Jokes about proposals and goats, well, that would obviously explain the reason for a goat in their honeymoon suite. It would also explain the light in her eyes, the hint of so much fun to be had with this male; she could cause so much confusion and strife with just the very suggestion of marriage and farm animals.

She, however, was not supposed to be the one married.

She was drugged. It was the only explanation.

Elvis slipped her a mickey and now she was married to a pretty face and she didn’t even know his name.

This was beginning to sound like the start of a terrible country western song.

So, this is where we find her; hiding in the bathroom, glaring at her reflection and contemplating just how she got into this mess. It was just too bad that the irritated face that stared back at her couldn’t offer her anymore than she already knew; she messed up.

The Gods were laughing now. She was sure of it.

It was then, when she was starting to grumble to herself that the bathroom door (what was the point in locks) slung open and she found herself staring into that pretty face with prettier eyes and suddenly…

She knew what happened.

Not exactly; just that the petite woman was clearly a sucker for that face. His face.

This was not going to do; she was supposed to be immune. She was supposed to be causing confusion and chaos; not be in the middle of it. Or have it backfire on herself like this.

Still…

Maybe it could be salvaged, at least, in part. Gone now was the glares and huffs; instead a rather coy smile would take refuge on that heart-shaped face. She could still have some fun.

“You look like you could use some good news…” She was the epitome of kindness as she kept that pasted smile upon her face; moving quietly toward where he sat to plop easily beside him, her slight build barely making a dent next to him. A hand patted his shoulder awkwardly, like this was a completely normal situation to find oneself in; sure, totally normal.

“At least you and your new wif…” Was it a female goat? No? Who knows? She was not above peeking around to figure that out but there was no way she was going to try. “Wife or husband, could have a great life together here in Mexico…”

Okay, so he was married to a goat. That’s a good trick. Yes? Because there was no way in all the hells that she was going to admit her own failure. She could totally pretend this was what happened until she found out whether or not this was a real marriage or not.

Her kind mated for life and this was not acceptable.

Even if he was pretty. Very pretty. A huge distraction. Obviously.

“Bad news, though, I’m not sure it’s completely legal…”

Yep. Bad news indeed.

[cue the cackling in her head here]
February 18, 2021 01:40 pm

Caleb Guillory

No doubt the guy was as confused as Hell. It wasn’t everyday a guy woke up in Mexico with a gorgeous brunette - and a goat. He could see how he would be easily sweet-talked into whatever she wanted when he was inebriated. He had always been a sucker when it came to women like her, the more he thought about it he really wasn’t surprised that this had happened. So, he was kind of an idiot - at least he had good tastes - in women - not goats.

His brown eyes shifted from the goat and then drifted back to Whitley. Did she think her act was cute? It might have been, even could have worked on someone else. He did remember he’d called his sister last even, it could that she didn’t know or at least remember that. For now he would keep that to himself, he could play along with her little game.

“Oh sweetheart.”

His voice sounded regretful, almost pained. He made it clear that there was something he needed to tell Whitley. He patted the bed beside him shaking his head, she needed to sit down for this one.

“I think your memory of last night is a bit skewed of last night.”

He let out a long sigh. He stared at her with sympathy growing in his eyes. He didn’t know how he was going to tell her this.

“Last night…”

He hesitated.

“See… you have it a bit twisted..”

The bleating of the Nubian was perfectly on cue. It was as if he and the goat were of one mind in this.

“Last night we met with Elvis. He united us in marriage for sure.”

He attempted to give the goat the most loving glance he could muster without falling apart with laughter and then turned that same gaze onto Whitley. Could she feel what his next words were going to be? He let an adoring smile cross over his lips.

“The three of us together, always. Don’t you remember darling? We made plans to move to Utah and join a Mormon commune. We are going to start our own aloe vera farm.”

He reached out for Whitley’s hand, he was sure she could use some comfort right now. Even if it was from her new husband in a polygamist marriage - with a goat. This would be hard for anyone to take in. He let his face fall solemn, attempting to seem sympathetic to her in her time of need. The entire time a snicker tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t worry, the chapel made a video and my sister was on video chat the entire time! She was our witness. You will love Neva. I arranged a marriage for her as the fourth wife of a cantaloupe farmer out in Utah, not far from us. Then in a couple years after our first ’kid’ we can find another wife to join us? Would that make you happy?”

He stopped there. Of course he didn’t remember much of last night, he had been stupid dunk. She was gorgeous, sure as the fires of Hell. Even someone as beautiful and obviously smart as her would never convince him that he’d been drunk enough to marry a damn goat. He knew himself better than that, even in his worst moments. Plus there probably was a video, those cheesy little chapels did shit like that. Of course there was Neva, his Hail Mary in this.
February 19, 2021 08:55 pm

Whitley Wyatt

Well, this got weird.

Normally, this would be the time for her to shine.

Weirdness was her specialty, after all.

However, this would not be the exact reaction the woman would have; in fact, it was completely out of character for her to laugh and then subsequently stifle the chortle that bubbled up from out of nowhere. That was certainly the first red flag. He was the entire red flag, who was she kidding.

Tall, red flag. (Everyone was taller than she was, this was idiotic.)
Hotter than the desert in midday, red flag. (So, what? A pretty face was a dime a dozen.)
Eyes to get lost in, red flag. (....just look away)
Made her laugh, red flag. (ohcraponastick.)
Clearly could think on his feet, you got it; a damned red flag. (Run. Just run)

It sucked for both of them that red was her favorite color.

What was a creature that was around for nearly four thousand years to do when faced with being out tricked by a silly male that was apparently smarter than she was? Absolutely nothing. That’s right, she was going to roll with his lovely little tale of love and aloe vera farms. Why? Because. That’s all. Because she could. Because it made her laugh. Because she was apparently going to ignore all the blinking arrows surrounding him, screaming to her that this was not a good idea.

No one had her idea of fun with a good idea.

Okay, so maybe it was the way he held her hand or maybe the way he called her sweetheart.

Whitley was confused and a sucker.

Terrible, terrible idea.

“Oh, but, puksik'al, I don’t think we can take that lovely goat across the border.” A mock pout. Copper orbs gazing adoringly at her new husband. “And I truly had my heart set on being a snake milker in Paraguay.”

Removing herself from such a close proximity, she’d bounce on the balls of her feet, bottom lip caught between teeth as she let her brow furrow; clearly, the woman was giving his lovely little idea of Utah consideration.

“Your sister, hmm? Family is really important, so that’s what we should do. Utah would be lovely, I like your idea. Yes, that’s what we’ll do after our little honeymoon...”
And then… she kills Elvis. This was super important right now.

Now, all she had to do was figure a way out of their honeymoon suite, kill whatever set her up, and figure out who the hell she was married to.

For, now. She’d just grin quite beautifully at her so-called husband.

One that she still didn’t know his name.

“I should totally get us some food?!”

Yeah, not at all suspect...
February 22, 2021 11:38 am

Caleb Guillory

Aloe vera farms in Utah? He sure as Hell pulled that one out his ass.

He would have to make a phone call to Geneva later to let her know about her impending marriage to a cantaloupe farmer. He wasn’t entirely confident that you could grow aloe vera and cantaloupes in Utah. Either way Neva was going to be pissed that he’d dragged her into yet another of his messes. He peered down at the time on his phone and wondered if she’d be up yet. He was certain that she’d be able to fill in some of the blanks of the evening before.

This woman’s name would be a nice one.

He glanced at the Nubian and then back to Whitley and gave a long, exaggerated sigh.

“You will have to be the one to tell it. I don’t think… I can handle the pain.”

He wasn’t sure if the damn thing was a male or female. Fake grief spread across his face as he turned away. The attempt to stifle his laughter was obvious.

He had to admit his drunk-self had good taste, if you were going to be married to a stranger at least pick one that wasn’t so ugly you wanted to chew your arm off the next morning.


“Let it down gently and assure it we’ll find it a nice farm to grow old on.”

He had a vague memory of the two of them happening upon the goat tied in the alley right outside the chapel last night. What happened after that was still a bit foggy but he thought that the two of them might have actually stolen someone’s goat, Elvis’s goat. He wondered if he should let her know the two of them might be goat thieves. What was the crime in Mexico for stealing and then marrying a goat? He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know the answer to that one.

“Errr… or maybe we will ask Elvis if the goat can stay with him. We can visit when we come to Mexico.”

Not that that sounded any more sane than the other option.

This was so much to think of. He still needed to call Geneva and find out what she knew. Right now didn’t seem the exact time for that. Then she mentioned food, that would actually be the perfect time so he could talk to his sister in private for a few minutes. Then he could share any information he got with what's-her-face.

It was funny how neither introduced themselves or asked the other’s name. Maye they were both just too embarrassed at this point.

“That would be amazing. Eggs, sausage, bacon, grits, and biscuits. Can we get that in Mexico? Why don’t you go find out darling? We can discuss what you’ll tell the G-O-A-T when you get back.”

That lopsided grin of his tugged at the corners of his mouth again as he watched her, once again amused by the turn of the conversation again.

“Oh, you should know though that I don’t have any life insurance and my family has no money. Just in case you had any ideas.”

Yes, he’d insinuated what it sounded like. Of course, he know that if she’d wanted to murder him she’d had plenty of chances before now. She didn’t need to poison his food to do what a pillow over his face in his sleep could do much more easily. Besides it wasn’t like a woman hadn’t tried to murder him before, he’d been left for dead and survived that. Females were such confusing creatures.
February 25, 2021 12:19 pm

Whitley Wyatt

Well, this was interesting. Or insanity. Seriously, the trickster got tricked and she had no idea what kind of warped reality she had woken up in; sure, the view was great. The goat… well, that was obviously her best idea but now she had to figure out how it all got messed up.

...and apparently tell the nubian he couldn’t go to Utah. [please send help]

Was he more concerned about a goat than he was about the farce of a marriage between them? Was he that strange of a man? Did she make a huge error in judgement? Was a pretty face going to be her downfall?

She really couldn’t get a read on him, none at all. It was perplexing and almost irritating; the man was certainly taking things in stride or having an absolute go at her and the petite woman had no freaking clue. None.

Red flag number five?

Luckily for them both she was a six flags season pass kind of girl or she was currently plotting his death along with Elvis. Or both.

One could never tell. Especially with the kind of guileless look about her that oozes innocence, until you looked closer that is.

...bacon, grits, and biscuits..

Really? [insert deadpan here] That was literally not what she was doing. Didn’t he know that was her way out of their room and out into the world so she could plot the demise of an already dead rock and roller? Oh wait, he didn’t even know her fake name or real name; how on earth would he pick up on the subtle nuances of his wife if he didn’t even know her. Her bad.

Right. She could do breakfast, she did offer. Bacon, eggs… (what on earth was a grit?) and whatever else he had said before she got lost in her own thoughts of mayhem against a wily Elvis lookalike; easy peasy.

“Okay… I’ll go get breakfast and then we’ll deal with the… [side-eye the goat] ...thing.”

She might have been far too absorbed with that lop-sided grin he graced her with to pay much attention to anything that was said after his breakfast order; absorbed was another word for completely deaf, dumb, and blind… just in case you’ve missed it, apparently she’s very much distracted by a pretty face.

It was only when she was attempting to find her shoes, thankfully not eaten by the lovely goat, that the final words sunk into her head filled with devious thoughts and plots of chaos; lucky for her dear husband, she didn’t feel the need to kill him, because well, she certainly didn’t do it for money or gain. And she definitely wasn’t going to let him in on her little fun she had planned for the morning...

She could, however, make this a little less awkward as she practically dove out the opened door once her sensible flats were on her feet.

“By and by, you can call me Whitley…” Call her that? Sure. Like that doesn’t sound just as suspect as everything else that has come out of her heart-shaped mouth thus far. But it’s not like she’d give some stranger her real name, even if she was currently married to him.

It didn’t take long before she realized something was really odd with the little town they had found themselves in; sure, her plans were to travel home near Chichen Itza, maybe spend some time in Cancun getting chaotic with the random party goers. Marry the hot guy to a farm animal. Maybe soak in the sun if she had time.

But nooooo. Somehow she had ended up outside of some shady hotel staring at a desolate town, that didn’t seem to have but a few, if any, residents. Great. There were not many that could pull this off and if they were anything like her, they’d stick around to see the grand finale, so all she had to do was hunt for a dilapidated church and make putty out of whoever was running the show.

And get breakfast.

Chase it. Slaughter it. Cook it.

Her new husband was probably proficient at those things since he obviously knew how to farm aloe vera; but that was not the important thing.

It was time to hunt for Elvis.

Or Aliens. It’s possible.

Your guess is as good as hers.
March 10, 2021 01:34 pm

Caleb Guillory

He was amused.

The gleam in his brown eyes made it too apparent.

He wasn't exactly thrilled to be married to this chick who's name he had failed to get. He could think of worst people to marry though. Hell, at least she wasn't a bearded guy named Joe. He shuddered at the thought, he didn't want to relive that night - ever.

He watched as she struggled to find her shoes and headed towards the door.

Perfect.

He still needed to call Geneva. He had NO clue what she'd heard on the phone last night and he needed to know. He was out of his element not knowing everything that had happened, he never get -that- drunk. He glanced down at his phone and then back and forth between Whitley and the goat. Once she left he could make that phone call.
He watched.

"By and by, you can call me Whitley..."

She slipped out the door before he could actually respond.

"Extra butter in those grits Whitley!"

Those words probably fell on deaf ears, or at least those that were no longer present. He shrugged and got up looking for his own shoes, tangled somewhere in the room between the bed and the goat. When he found them he shoved his feet in them and followed Whitley out the door. She was long gone by now.
Pulling out his phone he pulled his sister's number in his phone and it began to ring. First ring - second ring - then came her voice on the other end. "Caleb! Congratulations!"

Shit.

He was silent for a minute as he listened to Geneva drone on about his new marriage. He wondered fora moment if he should let her know about her impending marriage to the cantaloupe farmer. He decided against it for now. He let her continue to shed some light on his current situation.

Elvis. Marriage. Attended by video chat. It was most of what he could recall, she hadn't told him anything new. It seemed he failed to mention the goat to her last night, he was thankful for small favors. He did not know how he would explain that away. After a few minutes the conversation grew to an awkward silence, it was time to go.
"See you soon."

As he hung up it occurred to him that he should probably find Whitley. There were things that they should discuss about all of this -- out of earshot of the goat. He looked around, too bad he didn't know exactly where to find her...
March 23, 2021 05:18 pm
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