Mexican Handoff from FAWM 2025 by Johnny Wallflower

I was sitting in a Guanajuato bar, nursing a Negra Modelo
When a guy walked up to me and grinned. Real odd-looking fellow.
I sized him up. “Do I know you?” He smirked and said “Not yet”
And opened a pack of Chesterfields and shook out a cigarette.

“I have something truly interesting for all your friends back home,
The ones who sent you way down here to raid the catacombs.”
“Not sure what you’re talking about,” I said and took another sip
“Don’t fuck with me, señor,” he said, “this is the finest craftsmanship.”

“The baby mummy?” I asked. He laughed and said “It’s better by far:
The undisputed death mask of Ignacia Aguilar.”

I leaned back in my chair and thought hard on what he’d said
What I’d actually been sent to find was poor Ignacia’s head
“I’m looking for something better than that, as I’m pretty sure you know”
“Of course, señor, that was a test. I will take you down below.”

He led me to a storeroom where he lifted a trap door
And beckoned me to follow him down the stairs below the floor
The room beneath was dim and wet, a trap for me, no doubt
But as I went to pull my knife, a pistol shot rang out

My guide screamed once and grabbed his leg and fell down with a curse.
I dropped the knife. “Smart move,” I heard. “No need to make this worse.”

The girl who stepped into the light was raven-haired and wan
“It isn’t you I want,” she said. “I know you’re just the brawn.
My sister’s in the States right now, tracking down your boss.
Work with me or we’ll broadcast that you set up the double-cross.

Tell me where to find him, we have wishes to convey;
Tell me where to find him and we’ll spirit you away.”
I sighed and told her what I knew, the where and when and how
“Thanks,” she said, “now go to ground at your place in Curaçao.”

They knew about my safe house, my career was truly blown.
I didn’t leave with Ignacia’s head, but at least I kept my own.

• Alternative
• Experimental
• Rock
• lo-fi rock
• United States