By the Lighthouse, Sunday Afternoon

[olympian-herc.livejournal.com]

Herculio had come to the lighthouse to mourn for the loss of his luchadore career, and also his wife who had been trampled to death by a wild horse.

As he approached the door of the lighthouse, he tripped on a rock and skinned his knee. Herculio clutched at his wounded appendage with one arm, and shook his other fist in the air. Two perfect tears formed in each of his eyes, in honor of the terrible boo-boo that had befallen him. He cursed to high heaven, and then with a hearty dose of manliness let out a terrible cry.

"Pooooooooooooor Quuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuue???" he cried, his lungs having quite the capacity for long, shouted outcries.

[ooc: Open post, forewarning that Herc can only speak in badly Babelfished Spanish.]

Comments

[i-am-the-rat.livejournal.com]

Bad Mexican Stereotype Hank rode up on a burro, wearing a sombrero, and threw his hands up in the air. "¡¡¡Ai, que lastima!!!"

[olympian-herc.livejournal.com]

"No es bastante bueno en este mundo machacar a sus enemigos, verlos conducidos antes de usted, y oír la lamentación de sus mujeres. El sino me ha enseñado a esto," Herculio said, taking a deep breath at the end as if he did not no air would ever exist again.

[i-am-the-rat.livejournal.com]

"Ah, sí," Bad Mexican Stereotype Hank agreed. "El sino se enseña mucho. Por ejemplo -- considere la cucaracha."

[olympian-herc.livejournal.com]

"¿Es sabroso y delicioso?" Herculio responded, his eyebrows twitching like they were a pair of caterpillars doing a mating dance.

[i-am-the-rat.livejournal.com]

"¡Ai-yi-yi no!" sighed Bad Mexican Stereotype Hank. "La cucaracha, ¿entiende?" And he began singing.

La cucaracha, la cucaracha
Ya no puede caminar
Porque no tiene, porque le falta
Marijuana que fumar.

[olympian-herc.livejournal.com]

Herculio gasped. "¿Por qué usted me dice esto? ¿Usted trabaja para mi hermano gemelo que lanzamos tragó el pozo?"

[i-am-the-rat.livejournal.com]

Bad Mexican Stereotype Hank lifted his sombrero so he could scratch his head. "No se, señor. ¿Qué aspecto tiene?"

[olympian-herc.livejournal.com]

Herculio's face darkened, and he turned away.

"Usted no querría saber. El dolor de él todos los cursos a través de mis venas como la grasa dulce del tocino, estorbando mi corazón," he said, clutching at his chest dramatically.