It's big, fast and butch. Mexican Monkey sits pretty behind the wheel, cruising the boulevard in his new truck. Paid for by the sweat of the peasants who adoringly call him, "Patron." Especially when they want a paycheck.
The Patron pays well and at the end of the day, after designing T-Shirts for the next Swap Meet, he climbs behind the wheel of a big fat fucking American truck and turns the key. Mexican Monkey hears the roar of eight cylinders, sees above all and turns on his stereo speakers to Lady GaGa.
The thrill of it all and with his latest, "I just came from Juarez" shirt and boots, looks absolutely epic when he steps into a Cantina. The latest young lads look toward Mexican Monkey and someone in the crowd whispers, "It's the Patron, Mia Madre."
A hush falls and then the four foot seven Inca dwarf walks forward. Mexican Monkey is now in his element, they know him as the, Patron, He who blesses with jobs and money and He who takes away when you don't put out.
"Patron! Patron!" They cry, their eyes diverted down as he walks by. He inspects their booty before he chooses the favored. Ah, the life of a Mexican Monkey, it is good.
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