Bodega, Bodega, Bodega!

My friend Kyle is one of those dark and twisty types, so for his birthday last year, my mission was to find the perfect birthday trinket. I scavenged every dark corner of creepy little basement book stores, record shops, thrift stores, e.t.c., to find a piece of Kyle. I finally decided to look one last place before I resorted to shoplifting, something Kyle has a predilection for and would find especially pleasing as a gift in itself.

The most memorable time that Kyle and I have spent together was at Knott's Berry Farm. Before we went on any of the rides, he bee-lined it straight into the cheesiest Looney Tunes gift shop he could find. I smoked while he went inside, but before I could get three puffs in, he emerged with a candy necklace and a pen that affectionately said "Kyle." I didn't think there was enough time for any sort of currency to have been exchanged, so we walked briskly to blend in with the rest of the tourists as much as our skinny hipster asses possibly could. That day solidified our friendship and sparked our constant competition to outdo one another intellectually.

I entered the bodega looking for something random and bizarre. Bonus points for all the signs being in Spanish and Yahtzee for the curandero booth within the bodega, which was ironicly situated next to the green peppers. Atop the glass case of laughably magical trinkets I saw it. It was a black candle of death. Much like a Jesus candle, but more demon, and less Jesus. It was beautiful. I had to have it, and it took 10 minutes, very bad piecemeal spanish with the produce man, a curandera and the butcher (don't ask), and $5 to obtain it. It was precious, and reeked of evil.

When he opened the illy fashioned plastic bag and ribbon wrapping, Kyle was wide-eyed. He ended up loving it! I asked him on his birthday yesterday what ever happened to it, and he said it melted in his trunk. Demon disco MUWAHAHAHA!