Fanfic: The Successful Failures of El Mentedor, Chapter 7
Title: The Successful Failures of El Mentedor: Chapter 7
Word Count: About 2,500
Rating: PG for consistency.
Genre: AU/Comedy/Western
Summary: A Western AU with characters based on those from the movie Megamind.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6
FBI Warning: Haikus don’t give me / Quite enough syllables for / An FBI warn...
Once Roxanne had located the post office, she spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the area. There really wasn’t much to write home about - a barbershop, an inn, ironsmith, an odd restaurant here and there. That sort of thing. At one point she noticed two familiar figures walking down the street with purpose. Mount had many large pieces of what appeared to be scrap metal tied to his robotic back and Mentedor’s hands were full of the same sorts of materials. They didn’t appear to see her, which she was grateful for. She really didn’t want to deal with them right now.
Her mind kept wandering back to what had happened earlier that day. She continued reminding herself that he got what he deserved. That she’d suffered far more at his hands than the other way around. And yet, the more she thought back on what happened, the more needlessly cruel her words seemed. She never liked breaking hearts, but in this felt especially unpleasant. Because he was such an outcast. Because he probably would never be accepted by anyone as a friend, save for Mount. Mount. She shouldn’t have dragged his name into her ranting.
The knowledge that she really did mean something to Mentedor was disconcerting on multiple levels. She preferred being able to chalk up his decision to target her as some sort of coincidence or case of bad luck. In retrospect, it was a stupid assumption to make. But a comforting one. Now it had become evident that he, in his own strange way, seemed to care for her. She wasn’t entirely sure about the extent of his feelings for her and was afraid to wonder. But aside from the creepy factor of it all, it made her feel all that much worse about what she’s said to him. He’d put his hopes for the future on her and she’d shattered them. It was the right thing to do, but perhaps not the most tactful way of doing so.
No, no, he deserved it. After all he’d done to her it was the least he deserved. So why did she feel so bad about it?
The day dragged on and the sun lowered to the horizon. Mentedor and Mount were already at the post office when she arrived. And there was...something else with them. It appeared to be a crude, metallic, life-sized sculpture of a horse. The top of its skull looked to be made of half of a large, glowing, blue orb, atop which was a line of dull, metallic spikes served as a sort of mane. Red beads of light shined from where the eyes should have been, making the figure look somewhat demonic. As she got closer she could see that it was moving slightly; stamping its hooves lethargically on the ground, and moving its neck to look this way and that. Could this be one of Mentedor’s diabolical machines that’s he’d bragged about in the past? And, if so, what was he planning to do with it? She decided not to think about it too much as she approached.
Mount saw her first. “Señorita!” he said, greeting her with a smile.
Mentedor didn’t look at her, but she saw his shoulders tighten up.
“Hey, Mount,” she said. Then added, a little awkwardly, “Hey, Mentedor.”
Mentedor turned to face her, tossing his cape as he did so. “Miss Ritchi,” he said with a formal nod. His expression and words seemed practically devoid of emotion.
“So, uh...” she indicated the machine, “...what have we got here?”
“This is equine cyborg. I built it this afternoon. It’s belongs to you now and will serve as your transportation home.”
Roxanne blinked. She didn’t know what sort of answer she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. “You mean...you’re not coming with me?”
“I told you I’d see you home safely and I will. I simply assumed after what you’d said earlier that you’d rather not share a horse with me.”
“Wow, that’s...uh...that’s kinda thoughtful,” she admitted, looking at the machine uncomfortably.
“So you said this was an equine...what now?”
“Cyborg.”
“What’s a cyborg?”
Mount spoke up eagerly to answer this. “A cyborg is a being that contains a blend of cybernetic and organic parts.”
“Organic...parts?” asked Roxanne. “What part about this is organic?”
“That would be the brain,” explained Mentedor.
“The brain? Where did you get a horse’s...?” A look of horror came over her face. “Oh, God.”
“It would have died otherwise. Now it can live out a full life without fear of being prematurely terminated due to age, disease, or injury.”
“Yes, but...this still seems...wrong. Wouldn’t it have been more merciful to just let it die? I mean, you’ve made it into a freak!”
“Hey!” said Mount, sadly.
Roxanne looked at the talking fish-horse-cyborg, who really did take the not-inconsequential award of most-freakish member of the group, and immediately regretted her words. “Oh, no, Mount, I didn’t mean...!”
Mentedor spoke up. “If you treat it like a horse, it’ll think it’s a horse.”
For some reason, hearing these words dredged up feelings of guilt in her once more. She cautiously approached the strange creature. It moved its head to look at her. She winced and hesitantly reached her hand out to touch its muzzle.
It leaned into her palm gently. It made a strange “bowg” noise that sounded somewhere between something mechanical and animal. She put her other hand on the lower side of its muzzle, and stroked the front of its face. The creature’s eyes were soulless, glowing red. Its body was made of welded bits of cold, hard metal. Blue bolts of energy danced within its skull, illuminating its flat, spiky mane. It was, in nearly every sense of the word, a freak. But the way it moved, the way it looked down at her...she couldn’t help feeling a sort of affection for it. She gave Mentedor a small smile. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”
Mentedor was clearly taken aback by these words. He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Yes, well...I suppose we should be off then.”
“Hold on,” said Roxanne, looking back up at her new horse. “First I need to give you a name.”
“A name?”
“Sure, every horse needs a name, right? Now, let’s see.... Last time I saw you, you sure were going fast. I think I’ll call you...Scooter.”
“Scooter, huh?”
“I think that’s a lovely name!” said Mount.
Scooter bowged, nuzzling Roxanne a little.
Roxanne giggled. She looked back over at Mentedor who was staring at her with the faintest hint of a sad smile. Once he saw her looking at him, though, he regained his somewhat stern, emotionless look.
“Hey, I’m hungry,” said Roxanne. “Let’s go get some dinner.”
“I’ll pick up some jerky at the general store and we can have it on our way ba...” started Mentedor.
“No, I want a real meal. I saw a place that looked pretty good just a couple blocks down that way.”
“Miss Ritchi, we’re wasting valuable time...”
“Look, I’ve got money to spare after the heist, right? Well, I wanna spend it getting something good to eat.”
Mentedor sighed. “Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll give you some of the money from the deal and...”
“Oh, no, I’m not eating alone! That’s just depressing as heck.”
Mentedor looked surprised. “You...want me to join you?”
“Well, it’s either you or Mount, and I’m pretty sure they don’t allow horses in the place.”
“Most likely,” said Mount, annoyed.
“Come on,” said Roxanne. “This’ll give you a chance to teach me how to ride this guy.”
She petted Scooter’s neck, which elicited another affectionate bowg from the cyborg.
Scooter’s reigns had been built right into its metallic head and Roxanne found the creature just as easy to ride and maneuver as a normal well-trained horse. The trip to the restaurant was quick and uneventful, although more than a few villagers stared at the group as they passed. Mentedor and Roxanne left their rides outside, entered the dimly lit building, and sat down at a table for two.
Roxanne looked at Mentedor and he didn’t meet her gaze. From what she could sense, he wasn’t angry with her. He was just...cutting himself off. She supposed this could be considered preferable to his normal antics, but somehow it made her feel concerned for him. She decided to leave him be for the moment. When the waiter came, she ordered a rib-eye steak and a bottle of whisky and Mentedor ordered the meatless chili, a potato, and a piece of apple pie.
“You really like pie, don’t you?” asked Roxanne once the waiter had left.
He looked at her, arching an eyebrow. “Well, yeah,” he said in a tone of voice that implied everyone in the world obviously liked pie.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love it too. I just don’t usually order it with dinner.”
He gave her a weak, sad smirk. “Well, you know how much of a rebel I am.”
She returned the smirk. “Speaking of which...you mentioned earlier today that you used to...play by the rules. Somehow I find that hard to picture.”
“Oh, it’s true. Believe you me, I used to be just as much of a sheep as the rest of them. Even tried to get into law enforcement.”
“Law enforcement? You?”
“Well, we all do foolish things in our youth, Miss Ritchi.”
“So what happened?”
He sighed. “I was never...formally rejected. But my...my ‘peers’ made it quite clear I wasn’t welcome in their little club. And that they’d continue to make my life miserable if I didn’t leave. It hurt at the time. I actually wanted to be a hero.” He laughed a little at himself during that last part. “I suppose I should thank them now for the way they treated me. If the hadn’t, I might never have understood the true glory of villainy.”
“That all seems...very unfortunate. Do you ever think about trying the whole hero thing out again?”
“Not at all. Things are much better this way.”
“How do you figure?”
“Heroism is a very...reactionary occupation. When you’re a hero, it’s the villains who are always calling the shots. What crimes are being committed and where. As a hero, I imagine there’s a good amount of time just waiting around for evil to strike. But when you’re the one committing the crimes, you can initiate whatever you like whenever you like.” Talking about this seemed to be lifting his spirits. “Plus, there’s far more creativity involved in villainy. Heroes just show up, capture the bad guys, and cart them away. Villains such as myself, however, can concoct brilliant and elaborate schemes.” He was smiling now.
“Wow...you’re pretty passionate about being a jerk, aren’t you?” Roxanne asked, playfully.
“Oh, very much so! Why, I remember this one time that I...”
She’d heard about many of his evil schemes over the years when he’d visit her saloon and brag until Wayne showed up. But there was something different about the way he was talking now. He wasn’t presenting himself with the pompous flair he usually had when talking about his self-proclaimed genius. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone or ham it up. He was simply caught up in his own excitement of reliving his various adventures.
He even began to go into a few of the evil schemes he had planned for the future and would occasionally ask her opinion. She was surprised he’d look to her for guidance. She didn’t know the least thing about evil or science or criminal tactics. But she answered honestly, as best she could. And he actually seemed to appreciate her input, even if some of her opinions caused him to instinctively roll his eyes. On the whole, however, he was actually much less condescending than she was used to. Though he remained confident in his abilities, the intolerable smugness and attempts at being suave she’d come to expect from him were gone. She wondered if this was how he talked when it was just him and Mount.
When their dinner arrived, the waiter also brought two shotglasses. “I should probably warn you,” said Roxanne, pouring herself some whisky, “once I get a couple of these in me I have a tendency to go off on politically-fueled rants.”
“Hey,” he said, holding up a hand in front of him with a bit of a smile, “as long as you’re not ranting about me.”
She pushed the bottle of whisky over to him, inviting him to pour himself a drink as well.
The food was delicious and the conversation was actually pleasant. Mentedor again inquired about how Roxanne had come to own her own bar and this time she went into more detail about it. He seemed legitimately interested in her story. Then he began to suggest various innovations she could make to the saloon, most of which were far too dangerous or evil for her to take seriously. She rolled her eyes several times, but also found herself giggling. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she’d been drinking, the fact that he’d been drinking, or merely a result of his new lack of pretension, but she found herself rather delighted with his sense of humor. And hearing his non-evil laugh was a welcome change of pace.
“You’ve been surprisingly tolerable tonight,” she told him, as they were finishing up their meal.
“Why, Roxanne, I believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he responded, putting a hand to his chest. “Shall we be off then?”
“Wait. What about the bill?”
“Honestly, I’ll never understand your strange obsession with paying for things.”
“Why bother stealing money if you’re not gonna spend it?”
“As I believe I’ve told you before, it’s not about the money.” He put the proper amount of coins down on the table and stood up. Apparently he’d stood a little too fast as he put a hand up to his head, wobbling a little. Roxanne stood and felt a similar rush.
As they made their way out of the restaurant, Mentedor explained, “Both Mount and, uh...Scooter...have faster top running speeds than your average horses. So according to my calculations we should be able to reach your place in about...”
“Ugh,” interrupted Roxanne. “I really don’t feel like riding right now.”
“You want to walk?”
“Hm. Earlier I saw an inn over in that direction. If you don’t mind, I think I’d like get a good night’s sleep and then leave in the morning.”
“As you wish. I’ll take our horses to a quiet place out of town and hunker down for the night. Shall we meet at the post office at sunrise?”
“Sounds good. But walk me to the inn first. Could be some pretty creepy people walking around at this hour.”
“Creepier than me?”
She grinned. “Heaven forbid.”
Preview: In the next exciting chapter of The Successful Failures of El Mentedor: Roxanne and Mentedor end up drunk and horny in a private room at the inn. What will happen? If previous chapters are any indication, probably not sex. But we’ll see.
Word Count: About 2,500
Rating: PG for consistency.
Genre: AU/Comedy/Western
Summary: A Western AU with characters based on those from the movie Megamind.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6
FBI Warning: Haikus don’t give me / Quite enough syllables for / An FBI warn...
Once Roxanne had located the post office, she spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the area. There really wasn’t much to write home about - a barbershop, an inn, ironsmith, an odd restaurant here and there. That sort of thing. At one point she noticed two familiar figures walking down the street with purpose. Mount had many large pieces of what appeared to be scrap metal tied to his robotic back and Mentedor’s hands were full of the same sorts of materials. They didn’t appear to see her, which she was grateful for. She really didn’t want to deal with them right now.
Her mind kept wandering back to what had happened earlier that day. She continued reminding herself that he got what he deserved. That she’d suffered far more at his hands than the other way around. And yet, the more she thought back on what happened, the more needlessly cruel her words seemed. She never liked breaking hearts, but in this felt especially unpleasant. Because he was such an outcast. Because he probably would never be accepted by anyone as a friend, save for Mount. Mount. She shouldn’t have dragged his name into her ranting.
The knowledge that she really did mean something to Mentedor was disconcerting on multiple levels. She preferred being able to chalk up his decision to target her as some sort of coincidence or case of bad luck. In retrospect, it was a stupid assumption to make. But a comforting one. Now it had become evident that he, in his own strange way, seemed to care for her. She wasn’t entirely sure about the extent of his feelings for her and was afraid to wonder. But aside from the creepy factor of it all, it made her feel all that much worse about what she’s said to him. He’d put his hopes for the future on her and she’d shattered them. It was the right thing to do, but perhaps not the most tactful way of doing so.
No, no, he deserved it. After all he’d done to her it was the least he deserved. So why did she feel so bad about it?
The day dragged on and the sun lowered to the horizon. Mentedor and Mount were already at the post office when she arrived. And there was...something else with them. It appeared to be a crude, metallic, life-sized sculpture of a horse. The top of its skull looked to be made of half of a large, glowing, blue orb, atop which was a line of dull, metallic spikes served as a sort of mane. Red beads of light shined from where the eyes should have been, making the figure look somewhat demonic. As she got closer she could see that it was moving slightly; stamping its hooves lethargically on the ground, and moving its neck to look this way and that. Could this be one of Mentedor’s diabolical machines that’s he’d bragged about in the past? And, if so, what was he planning to do with it? She decided not to think about it too much as she approached.
Mount saw her first. “Señorita!” he said, greeting her with a smile.
Mentedor didn’t look at her, but she saw his shoulders tighten up.
“Hey, Mount,” she said. Then added, a little awkwardly, “Hey, Mentedor.”
Mentedor turned to face her, tossing his cape as he did so. “Miss Ritchi,” he said with a formal nod. His expression and words seemed practically devoid of emotion.
“So, uh...” she indicated the machine, “...what have we got here?”
“This is equine cyborg. I built it this afternoon. It’s belongs to you now and will serve as your transportation home.”
Roxanne blinked. She didn’t know what sort of answer she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. “You mean...you’re not coming with me?”
“I told you I’d see you home safely and I will. I simply assumed after what you’d said earlier that you’d rather not share a horse with me.”
“Wow, that’s...uh...that’s kinda thoughtful,” she admitted, looking at the machine uncomfortably.
“So you said this was an equine...what now?”
“Cyborg.”
“What’s a cyborg?”
Mount spoke up eagerly to answer this. “A cyborg is a being that contains a blend of cybernetic and organic parts.”
“Organic...parts?” asked Roxanne. “What part about this is organic?”
“That would be the brain,” explained Mentedor.
“The brain? Where did you get a horse’s...?” A look of horror came over her face. “Oh, God.”
“It would have died otherwise. Now it can live out a full life without fear of being prematurely terminated due to age, disease, or injury.”
“Yes, but...this still seems...wrong. Wouldn’t it have been more merciful to just let it die? I mean, you’ve made it into a freak!”
“Hey!” said Mount, sadly.
Roxanne looked at the talking fish-horse-cyborg, who really did take the not-inconsequential award of most-freakish member of the group, and immediately regretted her words. “Oh, no, Mount, I didn’t mean...!”
Mentedor spoke up. “If you treat it like a horse, it’ll think it’s a horse.”
For some reason, hearing these words dredged up feelings of guilt in her once more. She cautiously approached the strange creature. It moved its head to look at her. She winced and hesitantly reached her hand out to touch its muzzle.
It leaned into her palm gently. It made a strange “bowg” noise that sounded somewhere between something mechanical and animal. She put her other hand on the lower side of its muzzle, and stroked the front of its face. The creature’s eyes were soulless, glowing red. Its body was made of welded bits of cold, hard metal. Blue bolts of energy danced within its skull, illuminating its flat, spiky mane. It was, in nearly every sense of the word, a freak. But the way it moved, the way it looked down at her...she couldn’t help feeling a sort of affection for it. She gave Mentedor a small smile. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”
Mentedor was clearly taken aback by these words. He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Yes, well...I suppose we should be off then.”
“Hold on,” said Roxanne, looking back up at her new horse. “First I need to give you a name.”
“A name?”
“Sure, every horse needs a name, right? Now, let’s see.... Last time I saw you, you sure were going fast. I think I’ll call you...Scooter.”
“Scooter, huh?”
“I think that’s a lovely name!” said Mount.
Scooter bowged, nuzzling Roxanne a little.
Roxanne giggled. She looked back over at Mentedor who was staring at her with the faintest hint of a sad smile. Once he saw her looking at him, though, he regained his somewhat stern, emotionless look.
“Hey, I’m hungry,” said Roxanne. “Let’s go get some dinner.”
“I’ll pick up some jerky at the general store and we can have it on our way ba...” started Mentedor.
“No, I want a real meal. I saw a place that looked pretty good just a couple blocks down that way.”
“Miss Ritchi, we’re wasting valuable time...”
“Look, I’ve got money to spare after the heist, right? Well, I wanna spend it getting something good to eat.”
Mentedor sighed. “Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll give you some of the money from the deal and...”
“Oh, no, I’m not eating alone! That’s just depressing as heck.”
Mentedor looked surprised. “You...want me to join you?”
“Well, it’s either you or Mount, and I’m pretty sure they don’t allow horses in the place.”
“Most likely,” said Mount, annoyed.
“Come on,” said Roxanne. “This’ll give you a chance to teach me how to ride this guy.”
She petted Scooter’s neck, which elicited another affectionate bowg from the cyborg.
Scooter’s reigns had been built right into its metallic head and Roxanne found the creature just as easy to ride and maneuver as a normal well-trained horse. The trip to the restaurant was quick and uneventful, although more than a few villagers stared at the group as they passed. Mentedor and Roxanne left their rides outside, entered the dimly lit building, and sat down at a table for two.
Roxanne looked at Mentedor and he didn’t meet her gaze. From what she could sense, he wasn’t angry with her. He was just...cutting himself off. She supposed this could be considered preferable to his normal antics, but somehow it made her feel concerned for him. She decided to leave him be for the moment. When the waiter came, she ordered a rib-eye steak and a bottle of whisky and Mentedor ordered the meatless chili, a potato, and a piece of apple pie.
“You really like pie, don’t you?” asked Roxanne once the waiter had left.
He looked at her, arching an eyebrow. “Well, yeah,” he said in a tone of voice that implied everyone in the world obviously liked pie.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love it too. I just don’t usually order it with dinner.”
He gave her a weak, sad smirk. “Well, you know how much of a rebel I am.”
She returned the smirk. “Speaking of which...you mentioned earlier today that you used to...play by the rules. Somehow I find that hard to picture.”
“Oh, it’s true. Believe you me, I used to be just as much of a sheep as the rest of them. Even tried to get into law enforcement.”
“Law enforcement? You?”
“Well, we all do foolish things in our youth, Miss Ritchi.”
“So what happened?”
He sighed. “I was never...formally rejected. But my...my ‘peers’ made it quite clear I wasn’t welcome in their little club. And that they’d continue to make my life miserable if I didn’t leave. It hurt at the time. I actually wanted to be a hero.” He laughed a little at himself during that last part. “I suppose I should thank them now for the way they treated me. If the hadn’t, I might never have understood the true glory of villainy.”
“That all seems...very unfortunate. Do you ever think about trying the whole hero thing out again?”
“Not at all. Things are much better this way.”
“How do you figure?”
“Heroism is a very...reactionary occupation. When you’re a hero, it’s the villains who are always calling the shots. What crimes are being committed and where. As a hero, I imagine there’s a good amount of time just waiting around for evil to strike. But when you’re the one committing the crimes, you can initiate whatever you like whenever you like.” Talking about this seemed to be lifting his spirits. “Plus, there’s far more creativity involved in villainy. Heroes just show up, capture the bad guys, and cart them away. Villains such as myself, however, can concoct brilliant and elaborate schemes.” He was smiling now.
“Wow...you’re pretty passionate about being a jerk, aren’t you?” Roxanne asked, playfully.
“Oh, very much so! Why, I remember this one time that I...”
She’d heard about many of his evil schemes over the years when he’d visit her saloon and brag until Wayne showed up. But there was something different about the way he was talking now. He wasn’t presenting himself with the pompous flair he usually had when talking about his self-proclaimed genius. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone or ham it up. He was simply caught up in his own excitement of reliving his various adventures.
He even began to go into a few of the evil schemes he had planned for the future and would occasionally ask her opinion. She was surprised he’d look to her for guidance. She didn’t know the least thing about evil or science or criminal tactics. But she answered honestly, as best she could. And he actually seemed to appreciate her input, even if some of her opinions caused him to instinctively roll his eyes. On the whole, however, he was actually much less condescending than she was used to. Though he remained confident in his abilities, the intolerable smugness and attempts at being suave she’d come to expect from him were gone. She wondered if this was how he talked when it was just him and Mount.
When their dinner arrived, the waiter also brought two shotglasses. “I should probably warn you,” said Roxanne, pouring herself some whisky, “once I get a couple of these in me I have a tendency to go off on politically-fueled rants.”
“Hey,” he said, holding up a hand in front of him with a bit of a smile, “as long as you’re not ranting about me.”
She pushed the bottle of whisky over to him, inviting him to pour himself a drink as well.
The food was delicious and the conversation was actually pleasant. Mentedor again inquired about how Roxanne had come to own her own bar and this time she went into more detail about it. He seemed legitimately interested in her story. Then he began to suggest various innovations she could make to the saloon, most of which were far too dangerous or evil for her to take seriously. She rolled her eyes several times, but also found herself giggling. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she’d been drinking, the fact that he’d been drinking, or merely a result of his new lack of pretension, but she found herself rather delighted with his sense of humor. And hearing his non-evil laugh was a welcome change of pace.
“You’ve been surprisingly tolerable tonight,” she told him, as they were finishing up their meal.
“Why, Roxanne, I believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he responded, putting a hand to his chest. “Shall we be off then?”
“Wait. What about the bill?”
“Honestly, I’ll never understand your strange obsession with paying for things.”
“Why bother stealing money if you’re not gonna spend it?”
“As I believe I’ve told you before, it’s not about the money.” He put the proper amount of coins down on the table and stood up. Apparently he’d stood a little too fast as he put a hand up to his head, wobbling a little. Roxanne stood and felt a similar rush.
As they made their way out of the restaurant, Mentedor explained, “Both Mount and, uh...Scooter...have faster top running speeds than your average horses. So according to my calculations we should be able to reach your place in about...”
“Ugh,” interrupted Roxanne. “I really don’t feel like riding right now.”
“You want to walk?”
“Hm. Earlier I saw an inn over in that direction. If you don’t mind, I think I’d like get a good night’s sleep and then leave in the morning.”
“As you wish. I’ll take our horses to a quiet place out of town and hunker down for the night. Shall we meet at the post office at sunrise?”
“Sounds good. But walk me to the inn first. Could be some pretty creepy people walking around at this hour.”
“Creepier than me?”
She grinned. “Heaven forbid.”
Preview: In the next exciting chapter of The Successful Failures of El Mentedor: Roxanne and Mentedor end up drunk and horny in a private room at the inn. What will happen? If previous chapters are any indication, probably not sex. But we’ll see.