Like a glockenspeil..........

ZEPATA

Episode XII (is it XII?)

There they were, in the encampment, Zepata, Irena, the campadres and the stowaway

creekets, true Mexican bawgs.........

Testosterone riddled, exo-skeletonous, music-loving creatures

given to wearing small hats that were often thrown into the air

during the fiestas 'round campfires

and the traditional red bandanas worn by all the hombres,

man, beast, or bawg.......

The Day had dawned

with the sun higher on the eastern horizon,

for it was November in Mexico

and, as is surely recalled, there was a presence

among the bedded-down but wakening revelers,

a presence first merely sensed - though that alone was cause for stifled snores

for these battle-hardened pistola-spinners were always, ALWAYS on the lookout,

even when apparently asleep.

This time they were in luck;

it was a pedler with muffled wagon wheels

up early to catch the Zepatistians before they rode off on their mission

involving dynamite and a train (as previously stated),

and the stealthy merchant, not wishing to cause any bullets to come his way

whispered:

"I have some tuned and dried armadillo shells for you. For a xylophone. Your mariachi

creekets, which are legendary, should have a xylophone.

G-e-t

y-o-u-r

x-y-l-o-p-h-o-n-e

here!"

(to be continued)