SANTIAGO
I may be dead by morning, friend; see
that the sunlight never hits my table.
See that those who are green with envy
over my passing are shot; executed in
the same Mirabel Courtyard where we
strung up Contanaglo and his gang. There
is no one-two-three sequence to this
fashion. Just shoot to kill them all. If
there are any crying widows, kill them
as well. Anything else, I don't much
care. Slay any babies; take their money
and homes, burn down the rest.
-
I've grown tired of all this fashion : doing
things in this manner had never been my
intent. It was those God-damned Americanos
and their gringo Gods and ways who started
all of this and did this to us. Soon they too
shall have their payback. Make sure you
litter their corpses with this new blood here.
-
One more thing before this moment is over :
It was I killed your kin and mother too.
And it was I who fathered you. But you
could never know, and those who did
I had to have removed. There was no
joy in any of this, but it is all now done.
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