Cranking on the Border

The Crank

As a legal occupant of Azirona (citizen is too strong a word, it connotes some kind of active knowledge of all things Azironian), I decided that the rhetoric I have heard in the past few months on both sides of the question on Azirona’s new immigration law made it necessary for me to go down to the border and get the scoop myself.

To get information from illegal border crossers, I descended on the local Taco Bell for some value meal items to bribe them with. Once my Ram was filled with an assortment of all things Mexican, I headed south.  I first interviewed a local Sherriff, Buford Weinberg, of Cosha County, AZ.

When asked what was his issue with border security, he answered, “All dem Asians and Europeans a-sneakin across at night was a ruinin our great country.”

I hope I didn’t waste all my money at Taco Bell, I thought.  Maybe Panda Express would have been better.

I reached the border late at night and pulled the Ram into an area Sherriff Weinberg mentioned was a prime spot to encounter “Illegals.” Putting on the night vision goggles I got from my Cheerios box, I waited.  Many hours later, someone with a rather large backpack made his way toward me. It must have been the “Free Tacos” sign I painted on the back of the Ram. As he got closer, I noticed he was totting a hockey stick. As he entered the lit area, I also saw he was blond. He greeted me in English, but with a decidedly Nordic accent. As he sat down, he introduced himself as Ulf Vanninnenn. When asked why he was entering the U.S. illegally through Mexico, he said, “I was denied a hockey visa from our embassy in Finland, and wanted to play for the Phoenix Coyotes.”

When I explained that the Coyotes were a greatly improved team this year, he dejectedly asked me if New Mexico had a hockey team. When I said they did not, he turned back toward Mexico and walked away.

Soon, another figure became visible.

I called out “Free Tacos!”

A bewildered looking Asian couple appeared, and asked why I had no Panda Express. As they sat down to eat their tacos with chopsticks, I asked them why they were sneaking into the U.S from Mexico. They said they had heard that all the Mexicans were leaving the U.S., and that many menial jobs had opened up in the Chinese food industry, as it was widely known in China that Jewish people eat only Chinese food. I tried to explain to them that they might have better luck in the Scottsdale area.  They finished their tacos, and left.

Hungry myself, I sat down and swallowed three tacos whole, like a snake swallows a rabbit. Feeling rather gaseous, I let out an award winning belch, which echoed into the desert night, as a whale song does off the coast of “I can see Russia from my house.” I was smiling when I heard an answer—a monstrous belch echoing through the darkness. A belch from the depths of Hell!

A small figure appeared out of the darkness, and waved to me.

“Bonjiorno,” he said. I introduced myself and offered him some tacos. He stared at them obviously never having seen one. As I assumed from his accent he was Eyetralian.

I pointed and translated, “crispy sausage roll.”

He nodded to me as he took one, and thanked me.

When asked why he was crossing, he said, “I am Giorgio Scavetta, baker extraordinaire.”

I rose, and with tears in my eyes, I hugged him. He said he had heard that it was easier to get a gun in Azirona that it was to get good bread, and that he was here to “rescue the good people of Arrizzonna from such a fate.”  I told him to hide in the back of my Ram, and that I would personally escort this particular illegal back into Phoenix.

I saw no Mexicans going north that night, just a few heading back south. When asked why they were heading south, they said they all had felony warrants in Arizona, and that the new law scared them. They also said that Taco Bell was about as Mexican as Pizza Hut was Italian. 

“We dun nid no steenking tacos, gringo.”

This new law has no downside that I could see.  And, if the Coyotes keep playing well next season, it should keep out the Scandinavians. Oh, and I saw no Border Patrol, no fence, nothing. Uh, Nappy dear, as head of Homeland Security, you can send those National Guard south anytime now, bitch (or is it Bastard?)

The Crank

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