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It´s not going to end like this.  Not like this.  I don´t end like this.  I don´t go down like some pussy whipped muffin, cowering in the corner in my skirt and my high heels, begging for some cold hearted motherfucker of a wetback to ‘just end my sufferin´ now.´  This is not the end of my line… And if it is, well by God it´s gonna be big, and it´s gonna be bloody, and I´m taking every one of you motherfuckers with me, because I´m a son of a bitch crazy ass fucker too, and you´re going to pay.

Go ahead, take my eyes.  Take ‘em right out.  Yank ‘em out, and thanks a fucking heap for the medicine that let me watch that.  Images of betrayal (which I should have expected from that stupid bitch, it´s why I fucking got her on what I thought was my side to begin with) and Barillo and smiling, sickeningly yellow teeth leering down at me as not one but both of my eyes were ripped not so cleanly from their sockets will only help me in the end.

So yeah, take ‘em.  Fuck ‘em, I don´t need ‘em.  You think America didn´t train me for this?   You think America, the most quietly dangerous country that won´t own up to it in the world, didn´t fuckin´ hammer into me that shit didn´t go down in Mexico like it did in America?  Trained me to fight with no eyes, no feet, no  hands, no tongue, no nothin´, motherfucker, and I fuckin´ learned.  I hear you, I smell you, I know within an inch where you stand, and by God I´ll fuckin´ gun you down like a turkey on Thanksgiving.

Just lemme get this kid outta the way, cause he´s the only decent one outta your whole lot.  This country of filth.  This country of nothing.  This country of white powder, and the horse piss cervesa, and back stabbing.  This kid, in the yellow shirt that I´ll probably remember for the rest of my damned to hell life, that decided the crazy man with no eyes maybe deserved a guiding hand.  I´ll get him outta here so I can kill, or at the very least maim, like you´ve maimed me, the lot of  you motherfuckers.

So come the fuck out then.  Face the fuckin´ twing twang twong that is the theme music to your filthy country.  I´m not El, I´m more than El, and ya know why?  Cause I actually do have something to live for.  Something to fight for, and ya know what that is?  Fucking revenge.  Revenge on every last one of you, for getting me assigned here in the first fucking place, for taking my eyes, and for even fucking existing.  Sons of bitches like me, we´re rabid dogs.  We don´t forget.  We don´t go down easy, we latch onto the meatiest part of you arm and lock down our jaw so tight they need the fucking jaws of life to get us off.

So come on, bring it.  Laugh all you want, it just makes me more determined.  Carries your voice to my ears, lets me know exactly where your boot clad nasty ass feet stand.  Let´s me know where to make your custom tailored Sands outfitted graves at.  Laugh, sneer, spit, enjoy it… it´ll be the last fuckin´ thing you´ll do if it´s the last thing I do as well.

I can´t see, fuckmook, but I still breathe, and you won´t… you won´t, soon enough.

All feedback much appreciated!
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