I met Leetle Hawk while filming "Los Bandidos Mariachissimos" in Durango, Mexico last year. I was chosen to play the part of a mysterious woman who joins a gang of bandido mariachi players who ally themeselves weeth the revolutionary armies of Emiliano Zapata (my hero). While on the set, I noticed a Canadiense actor weeth a very striking appearance. He was thin like a rail, weeth long bushy hair, and he could do amazing Bob Dylan imitations weeth the guitarra and harmonica. He also bore a strange resemblance to Johhny Depp een some way, but I cannot say how. It had something to do with his part in the film, which was of a famous bandido who has experienced a spiritual illumination. It was very artistic and romantic. I was immediately drawn to him, but I had no intention to show it. I played it "cool", as you say. I watched heem from the shadows, biding my time.

A scene came which required him to ride a horse. This particular horse is not a nice horse. I know him. He is an hijo de puta who likes throwing his riders into the cactus plants.

Well, the horse did what he does when he knows he is dealing with someone who doesn't know him very well yet. He went loco and took off with Leetle Hawk hanging on for dear life. My pulse quickened to see how his poncho flared out in the wind and how manfully he hung on to the crazy bastard horse. The mariachis all played like mad as the horse hurtled about the set, destroying many things and raising hell, as you say. Many valueless paintings of Elvis Presley were destroyed. Also some of the Virgin of Guadeloupe. For that, I intend to see that the horse is himself destroyed. I and my compadres will eat the son of a whore for insulting the Holy Virgin of Mexico. His time has come at last. I swear it.

Leetle Hawk hung on most bravely, but finally he was thrown most terribly from the stupid caballo. He did not land in a cactus...gracias a Dios! (thanks God!)

But he did land on his cabeza. His head, that is. I feared for the worst. "Stand aside," I said to the foolish extras who were milling around, probably hoping to make off with his wallet. I parted them as Moses parts the Red Sea, and knelt over him. He was still breathing. I started to sing softly, a song of liberation for the oppressed from the hell of poverty and tyrrany.

He opened his eyes and looked into mine. I felt a timeless wave roll over me. I felt the hands of destiny upon my heart.

"You came to Mexico for a reason," I said. "You came for me."

He has never doubted it since. We will marry in September and place roses on the grave of Emiliano Zapata. A woman must never shrink from her true destiny. Together we will destroy the corporate international bastards who oppress the pobres of the land. Or we will die trying. Zapata would do no less.

Some call me "Rojo", but I am Elena.









With a struggle and a flourish of my poncho I finally managed to mount the horse, but my troubles were not over, because the little bastard decided to bolt at that moment, leaping over a fence and scattering the loungers and street kids who were watching. Several people cheered enthusiastically as I frantically attempted to stay in the saddle. The mariachis played furiously on their guitars, humming like a hive of angry bees! In the next few seconds I and the horse covered a surprising amount of ground, managing to upset 3 cameras, a taco seller's wagon, and about 50 paintings of Elvis and the Virgin of Guadeloupe that someone was selling to tourists. Then I became airborne.

Time seemed to stand still. I considered the possibility that I might in fact NEVER get to date Winona Ryder and that George Bush might possibly change the Constitution and get appointed President-for-life...I counted 758 spines on a large cactus that was passing by on my left...I remembered that in 1966 I had hidden a gold locket behind some books on a shelf in the house that my parents sold in 1969...which house has since been turned into a shrine, due to the fact that an image of the Virgin Mary appeared on a pancake there.

Then everything went black. Presently I heard what seemed to be some sort of heavenly music. I slowly opened my eyes and looked up into Elena's face. She gazed at me with a steady and solemn look and spoke, in dulcet tones. Her voice was deep and very calm.

"You came to Mexico for a reason," she said. "You came for me."

We plan to marry in September. I am going to place roses on the grave of Emiliano Zapata. A man must never be afraid to face his true destiny.