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DEAR ESPERANZA: Deportation Daisy

July 7, 2010

Dear Esperanza:

I’ve been deported 18 times. I’m leaving in a few minutes to cross the border again even though my coyote’s at the Coyote Convention in Vegas.  Nothing can stop me. Because I’m in love.

The first time Sam, the hunky MIGRA agent, detained me, I gasped; my knees trembled.

His devil blue eyes twinkle when he sees me crawling along the desert, dehydrated, starving; my sun-scorched, half-naked body riddled with scorpion bites. He strolls towards me until his shadow drapes over me, his I.C.E. windbreaker ripples in the wind. Oooh.

One time, he grabbed my hair, dragged me along the rocky ground then slammed me against a cactus. “Take me, take me now!” I screamed. He snatched my arms, cuffed me right then and there.

If that ain’t love, I don’t know what is.

But every time I think our passion will finally be satiated, he deports me. Shoves me in a bus with Lupita and the gang and off I go. I hate Lupita.

I can’t live without tasting my devil-eyed MIGRA agent. I’d rather die. Help me, Esperanza!

 Desert Daisy

**

Dear Deportation Daisy:

This is a horrible, terrible tragedy.

Men in uniform are an aphrodisiac. Problem is, once the uniform comes off, the heat turns tepid.

 I was in love with this UPS guy once. His brown shorts drove me crazy; those little wild hairs scraping the hem, beads of sweat glistening on his thighs. Ay, ay, ay! With brut force, he’d grab a package, race to the front door, pretend to ring the doorbell then kick the package at the garage door for a goooooooooal!

The man knew what to do with his package.

I would lie in wait for him everyday. Began ordering rush packages. When that doorbell rang, I struck my most seductive poses, coo-ed my best lines and…nothing.

The next time I swung open the door, I stood there butt naked. I posed for him, wiggled my carnitas.

 He didn’t even blink. Asked me to sign, handed me the package of edible merkins and left.

My next option…I stowed away inside his truck. But he took a wild U-turn and I fell out into traffic. Lucky for me, my underwire bra cushioned my fall even though it dented the guard railing.    

Left with no choice, I sent myself in a UPS box…I would be his next man-handled package. Uh-huh.

But while inside my box in the back of the truck, I got motion sickness, and had a little accident on my Lady GaGa lingerie. I wiped myself down with my merkin, and at a red light, jumped out of the box…and grabbed him from behind. 

I tore off his uniform, was ready to pounce…then suddenly, I no longer saw my hot UPS vato in uniform…I saw a pale, shivering, naked (and very shriveled) manboy.

My passion evaporated. I sighed, threw his whimpering butt in the back and drove him home. The UPS truck is still parked in my driveway.

Daisy, you need to know…Is it the man? Or the uniform? Tear off that I.C.E. windbreaker then see if you wanna ride that bus.

Love is a mucho splendored thing.

If you wear a uniform, you don’t need to take your clothes off…

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