This is my adopted family. My mere forty-nine cents a day helps pay for their AK-47s down in Honduras. They enjoy shooting the turkey vultures that hunted down my poor cousin Brooke when she was ten years old.





From right to left:

• Esteban: His likes include polishing the steely metal of his gun barrel, Paulie Shore movies, and moonlit walks down the abandoned alleyways of Tecate, Mexico, where he can always finds las putas muchas.
  
  
• Floppy: aka Cueball. We blame ourselves for Floppy's slow mental processing capabilties. We allowed the owners of the largest roller skating rink in the continental United States to contract us to polish their skating rink floor during their slow summers. What can I say? We needed the cash. So we used turn Floppy upside down as a child and use his head as a power polisher. And boy, that floor was gleaming. But the baldness is hereditary.
  
  
• Brody: Christian missionary gone AWOL. He came to Honduras to save the heathen souls of our Columbian druglords, but we chopped up his youth group and used their bones to make the soup stock for our turkey vulture stew. Thus he descended into our dark world of mobsters.
  
  
• Jay: aka Blue. We also call him Flame Boy. You think he's holding an Ak-47 but really it's a flame-thrower. He rocks with that thing.
  
  
• Steve: We have lots of fun with Steve and Esteban. Sometimes when we want to have a good Buddha-belly-busting laugh, we'll call out, "Esteban!" And then Esteban will say, "Que?" And then we'll all like, "No! We meant Steve! Silly Esteban!"
  
  

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