Trophy by Emily Clouse

Ernest Hemingway At The Taco Bell Cantina

Illustration by Emily Clouse

The sign on the front says “live más” and I live as the sign tells me. In all seasons it opens at 11. It is called the “Taco Bell Cantina” but the villagers call it “The Cantina” or just “Taco Bell.” I call it “the Cantina” but I have sometimes called it “la Campana” which means only “the bell” but most understand me when I say “the Taco Bell where you can get the liquor in it.” During the war the Taco Bells only served food and soda and were lit like hospitals. Now they serve alcohol and are lit like discotheques.

I order and sit in my usual chair which is the color of burnt roses. I display my placard and return to the front of the restaurant. I push past the girl who takes the orders towards the frozen margarita machine. Before the cooks would tell me not to climb over the counter but now they let me because I have broad shoulders and handsome legs. They understand that justice in the cantina is a function of strength and courage and is not a function of laws and courts. I also have a gun.

There is no feeling comparable to the thrill of drinking directly from the frozen margarita machine. It is the blood of the cantina. Once consumed it feels like a cold snake that is also…