Flinchy and the Mexican Show Truck, Part 2

by Patrick McLean


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In which the plot thickens, Tee Morris joins the story as Flinchy, and the scintillating P.G. Holyfield endures.

Gracious guest appearance by Liza Holyfield.


So, where were we?

PG — 2nd hole. And you were racing down the fairway with a fugitive from a Mexican show truck on your way to score a 4 over par.

Hey, you were right behind me.

PG — Right behind you in the fairway.

Yeah, well

PG — and up to this point, it was pretty funny. Until the Mexican show truck drove out onto the golf course.

(Horn, acceleration noises)

Yeah that was nuts. Nemesis, the forces of Retribution, were coming for Finchy. Decked out in all their aftermarket parts glory.

PG — And the truck would have gotten us right there and then. Except for the bridge.

Yeah, there was a stream cutting across the golf course. And the bridge for the golf carts was too small for

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the Mexican for the Mexican show truck to go over.

PG — and the gulley was too deep for it to go through.

Thankfully it wasn’t a Mexican Jumping Show Truck.

PG — oh, I can’t believe you just made that joke.

What, it wasn’t that bad.

PG — Seanachai my ass.

Anyway, Finchy is white as a sheet. And all the while, there’s the truck, on the other site of this little creek (SFX: Engine revving )

Finchy turns around and yells. “Well I’m sorry!”

And the truck drives away. But not back to the road, it idles off down the first fairway. Which was disconcerting, to say the least, most of all to Finchy.

PG — He had the nerve to ask me where he should take his drop.

I don’t see PG get angry very often. He’s a professional on the golf course.

PG — I am not.

Dude, you’ve got your name stitched into your bag.

PG — So,

Anyway, when you hit a ball out of bounds,

PG — And oncoming traffic is always out of bounds.

You have to take stroke and distance.

PG — which means that Flinchy has to go all the way back to the tee and hit again.

It’s a cruel game.

PG — but there’s no way he’s crossing that stream

There be monsters ( SFX: Truck rumble ) But I wasn’t afraid.

PG — You ran into the woods!

I was looking for my ball.

PG — un-hunh

I thought we were playing ready golf. So we finished out the hole.

PG — Par


PG — And Flinchy called out

Finchy — “bogey”

PG — There’s no way he had a bogey. First of all, he should have taken an x with his illegal drop drop, but with the out of bounds,

On the next tee, I could see that Finchy was rattled. So I tried to comfort him as best I could. “Hey, Finchy, you want to get a bet going? You know, liven up the round a little bit.”

He went white as a sheet. I thought he was terrified of my golfing prowess.

PG — snort

(SFX: golf cart)

But it was two pro’s from the club house. With a distraught hispanic woman.

( SFX : Distraught hispanic woman ranting )

PG — And, the pro’s did a pretty good job of handling it.

I thought so too. They explained that, whoever hit the ball, it was covered by auto insurance. And your insurance company and the

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woman’s insurance company would work it out. No big deal. Happened more than you thought.

PG — But Flinchy wouldn’t own up to it. And it was none of my business. He was Patrick’s friend and I was in the other cart.

Yeah, well, golf is a funny game. It’s the only game where a player is required to call penalties on themselves. Which means, unless you’re in a tournament, or there’s a bet, you pretty much let the other guy go his own way. Everybody’s got to play their own bad shots. In volleyball, you can bail your buddy out. But golf is existential in it’s despair.

PG — What does that even mean.

It means, the responsiblity lay with Finchy. It was his ball, he had to play it.

PG — but he took his time.

It was awkward. He tried lying about it.

PG — He already lied about his score.

But eventually, he owned up to it. They exchanged information. Although I’m not too sure the woman fully understood what was going on.

PG — I think she wanted cash.

Hey, who doesn’t. But my cash was all tied up in investment gambling.

PG — and as the pro’s guided her back to the cart. She looked at all of us and said

“ah peku, ah peku, ah peku”

It must have been some ancient Mayan Curse.

PG — ah come off it. She was probably just telling us to go to hell.

Which is a curse.

PG — Whatever.

Well it would explain a lot about what happened next.

A few weeks pass, as they do, in a blur. The rains have come, and we haven’t had a chance to play much golf.

PG — So you’re saying that what happened next was nothing.

It’s a suspensful pause in the action.

PG — ‘Nothing happened’ real tension-builder there

And then, one night, after a round of golf, we decided to go out to dinner.

PG — My wife met us for dinner.

Wonderful woman. One wonders how she ever became burdened with the scintillating PG Holyfield.


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— I tell it like it is.

You write fiction!

PG — So what? I tell it like it is

So where’d we go for dinner Mr. Tell it like it is?

PG — a restaurant

What kind of restaurant?

PG — We went to a Mexican restaurant.

And what was the name of this restaurant.

PG — Azteca.

And why, so soon after our brush with the Mayan show truck of certain and inalterable doom did we go to a Mexican retaurant?

PG — My wife wanted Mexican food. Look, it was just a coincidence.

Coincidence, I think not.

PG — It was a total coincidence. And so was running into your friend, Flinchy.


PG — Whatever, that nickname never made sense to me. But why was he there? Total coincidence.

Not coincidence. Fate.

PG — Well fate is pretty obnoxious. And so’s your friend Flinchy.

SFX : Restaurant ambience.

FINCHY: Hey guys what’s going on? Feista time! Hunh.

PATRICK: Hey, Finchy. It’s (?)good(?) to see you?

PG — Hello.

FINCHY: Aren’t you going to introduce me to your special lady friend.

PG — Hello.

FINCHY: Come on man, that’s just rude.

PG — Okay, Liza, this is Flinchy.

FINCHY — Finchy.

PG — (aside) Does it really matter?

LIZA — Hello.

PATRICK — So Finchy, you been playing any golf?

FINCHY — No, not since that thing with the truck.

PATRICK — Oh yeah, what happened with that?

FINCHY — Oh man, you’ll never believe it. I totally got away with it.

PG — Got away with it?

FINCHY — Yeah, I mean, I gave her my insurance information. And she scrawled something on a piece of paper. Turns out it was bogus. She didn’t have insurance at all! Serves her right.

PATRICK — Serves her right for what?

PG — ( aside ) He lied about his score.

FINCHY — For driving without insurance.

PATRICK — Yeah, but you hit a golf ball into her windshield.

FINCHY — Serves her right.

LIZA — Well it was nice to meet you.

FINCHY — (confused) It was nice to meet you too.

PG — She’s asking you to leave, Flinchy.

And with that, Finchy slunk back to the bar. And we told the whole story to Liza. And she got all of it. The bit about the way a person plays golf being a good indicator of their character.

PG — She understood, instinctively, that you’re not a very good golfer.

Better golfer than Finchy.

PG — Well, yeah.

The only part she had trouble with was the idea of the Mexican Show Truck.

LIZA — I don’t get it. What makes it a show truck?

PG — It’s showy.

LIZA — How?

PATRICK — Well, you know how you trick out a, it’s kind a like show dogs. People love them, go crazy over them

SFX: truck engine creeping closer and closer.

LIZA — oh, you mean like that truck? Is that a Mexican show truck?

PATRICK — Except that it wasn’t a, it was the. Capital THE. Fate. Nemesis. Finchy’s black destiny come for him at –

PG — (interrupting) It was the same truck from the golf course. And it was yellow.

PATRICK – Yeah, but it’s a symbol. A menacing symbol.

PG — If it was a story, it would be a symbol. But this really happened, so it’s a truck. A menacing truck. A menacing yellow truck.

Just then Finchy came over and said.

FINCHY — Oh my god, it’s them. You gotta help me.

(SFX: music creeps in from underneath.


PATRICK — Oh ho ho, look at the time. We’ve got to go. Looks like you’re buying a windshield buddy. Check please.

PG — That was sarcasm.

FLINCHY — Please, hide me, help me.

PG — See he’s really not your buddy.

FLINCHY — What about you?

PG — Oh, sorry pal.

LIZA — It was nice to meet you.

Patrick — Hey. What’s that song? I’ve heard it somewhere before.

It was De Guello. The cutthroat song. The same song that Santa Ana played for the men in the Alamo. It meant, “no quarter.” And just as I realized this, just as we were about to step out the door Finchy said, “You know, they know what you look like. They probably think you’re in on it.”


[*PG — I always wanted to be in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

No, this is De Guello. The cutthroat song.

P.G. — first 3rd would be enough

The same song that Santa Ana played for the men in the Alamo.

P.G. — Flinchy could come in towards the end

It meant, “no quarter.”

PG — you’re really not listening to me at all are you?


PG — Oh, nothing.*]

PG — I didn’t like Flinchy, but he was right. So then.

Ahh, no.

PG — What? No. You can’t

Patrick — Yes I can.

PG — You ARE a cliffhangering bastard.

Patrick — Guilty as charged.


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