3. Strange Accents

Chonito climbed into the cab of the Kodiak in good spirits.


"Ay, güey, now I'm OK," he said loudly as he climbed into the cab. He sat into the driver's seat and extend an open hand to Ervey to request the keys to the truck. Ervey plopped the keys into his hand. "Vamonos," said Chonito as he started the engine, "you fill it to the brim?"


"Sí, sí, sí, all the way to the cap," Ervey answered, staring conspicuously at his partner.


"Wow, I heard some pretty funny sounding folks in there," said Chonito,
focusing on getting them out of the parking lot. He did not look at Ervey until they got onto the highway. He saw Ervey's inquisitive look. "What, what?" he asked.


"You were in there a long time," said Ervey, "did you also read the whole diario?"


"No, guey, there was a long line. Lot's of little guys speaking in an accent I could barely understand.  I think it was old Spanish. Vos. Who says 'vos' anymore?"


"They use it in the South, Chiapas and the surrounding region," said Ervey. "But what's the story behind this receipt book and the writing on the back?" he asked, waving


"Oh, yeah, pretty weird, huh. The guy sounds like he's on his way out, almost like a movie script about somebody who's not around any more. No?" he said. "I switched to another receipt book when I found it. You, know to preserve it. I don't know why. Where's El Mulato, anyway?"


"Never heard of it," answered Ervey. "Where did you get it?"


"From the little corner office supply store where the service road parallel to the highway ends going into  downtown Camargo. We've stopped there before," Chonito responded.


"Claro, I showed it to you, guey. Remember?" said Ervey. "It´s called El Pascualeño. The owners are related to me somehow."