By EDUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ
SAN BENITO, Texas |...The Beatles had ended their short segment on The Ed Sullivan Show when slacker motel clerk Pedro Montoya got up from the office couch to turn the TV off.
A loud sound halted his four-step amble to the black & white set.
"Gunshot!" he said aloud, turning away from the TV and walking from behind the counter to the office's front door. Something told him to not step out, like two-three shots that next broke the cold, dark night's quiet.
"Shit, man!" he let-out to the door's dusty, interior venetian blinds.
Louder shots followed, these as if from a rifle. And all Hell broke loose, and it was easy to believe a firefight was underway in the motel's gravel parking lot. The gunshots kept coming.
Chubby Pedro thought it had to be more than two people, as the sound of bullets screaming across the property seemed to be coming from all directions. Caught with his emotions at the ends of his fingers, Pedro lifted his right arm and began fast-slapping himself on the face.
Behind him, he heard TV show host Ed Sullivan bidding the audience goodnight from New York. Call the cops, a little voice told him, but the shooting had ended. Spooked Pedro peeked through the blind's slats. Too dark to see anything. Then he heard the sound of someone running from the other end of the parking lot.
It was Gomer Gamez, the Black Swallow Motel's maintenance man. Pedro opened the door as Gomer neared.
"Some guys drove up in a pickup and shot the Hell out of our four ice machines!!!" he said breathlessly, turning around to quickly shut the door's blinds. "They may be back to finish off our laundry room, man!"
Motel night clerk Montoya played with his scraggly hair, as if caught between fear and anger, and then made an "Oh, wow!" face...
-30-
Nice. should be a movie.
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