Vamos a Bailar!

Caoimhe Cobalt looked at the rigid knife in her hands; boy, did she feel happy. The Irish Woman should have went somewhere else on this day. Had she known about the occasion, she would have traveled to Texas for some peace and quiet!



She walked over to the window and reflected on her pretty surroundings. She had always loved calm Oaxaca with its grieving, gentle gates. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel happy.



Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Esmeralda Salvador. Esmeralda was a thoughtful succubus with foxy hair and sexy legs.



Caoimhe gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was an intelligent, honest, black tea drinker with stringy hair and tall legs. Her friends saw her as a squealing, smoggy saint. Once, she had even brought an aggressive toddler back from the brink of death.



But not even an intelligent person who had once brought an aggressive toddler back from the brink of death,  prepare for what Esmeralda had in store today.



The full moon teased like a gazing owl, making Caoimhe anxious. That lousy moon just added to her pounding headache.



As Caoimhe stepped outside and Esmeralda came closer, she could see the tight glint in her eye.



Esmeralda glared with all the wrath of 5,777 brutal soft snakes. She said, in hushed tones, "Que es, chica? Por que siguendo?" She wanted to know why the Irish girl came to Oaxaca. Out of all of the Hispanic partiers. she had to bump into this--devil!



Caoimhe looked back, even more anxious and still fingering the rigid knife. Had she been careless, she would have pricked her index finger. Caoimhe's blue eyes gazed at its beauty, and glared at the Latino woman. "Esmeralda, really," she replied. "Speak in English, lass." She grew tired of the flashing lights and the caterwauling trombones fluttering to the maracas. Esmeralda had bags under her eyes, illustrating her fatigue. Wasn't she that busty exchange student? Memories recollected in her head; she always sat in the front, getting those high As!



HOW COME!?



They looked at each other with awkward feelings, like buzzed, scared dogs running at a very evil Dia de los Muertos, which had mariachi music playing in the background and two dumb uncles partying to the beat. "Ay! Es bien musica! Vamos a bailar!" One of them cackled as he tried flexing his tired muscles.



Caoimhe studied Esmeralda's foxy, long hair and sexy legs. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Caoimhe in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I don't know what the fuck's going on. I really don't know you, but I thought you were pretty." Damn you, Caoimhe! The woman cursed herself, looking at her shaky hands.



Esmeralda looked cross, her emotions raw like a malignant, strong perfume.



Caoimhe could actually hear Esmeralda's emotions shatter into 6127 pieces. Then the thoughtful succubus hurried away into the distance. "What kind of devil...?" She muttered as she walked off into the night.



Not even a drink of black tea would calm Caoimhe's nerves tonight.



THE END?