I’ve got news from Lorenzo. Apparently he’s getting closer to his destination, although still a few thousand kilometers separate him from it. Here’s what I knew of him.
After reading in the newspapers his interview by Archivaldo Mosquera, Lorenzo Llama was furious. The Colombian journalist had betrayed his confidence and published the parts of the interview about which Lorenzo had threatened him to death. “What else could a man of his word like myself do?” the Renegade explained. “I had to kill him”. So he put in his mouth a couple of the spittable bullets that Bandana Llama had sold him long ago and he went out to look for the journalist.
As soon as he opened the door and went out of the bar where he was staying, a man approached Lorenzo. He was chubby, heavily tanned and wore sunglasses. “Strange, he reminds me of someone but I can’t put my finger on whom” Lorenzo thought, looking at his hooves. The man presented himself as Archivalo Mosquera, the nice twin brother of Archivaldo Mosquera, and he was wearing a bandana. He told Lorenzo that Archivaldo had died the day before, so Lorenzo didn’t need to kill him any longer. But the Renegade didn’t trust him.
- What did he die of? He looked healthy when he interviewed me- said Lorenzo.
- Uhm… -Archivalo hesitated a good while before answering- of boredom.
- Of boredom???
- Uhm… huh, yes… you see, there’s not much going on in this town and he… huh… he just died of boredom- explained Archivalo, shrugging.
“On top of everything he was very similar to his twin brother” the Renegade later told me. “What a story he came up with!” he cleared his throat. “Others would swallow but not me” he spit to his side, “I spit, like real llamas do. Anyway, the story was visibly true. His brother Archivaldo had died so I didn’t need to avenge his treason any longer. I could just go on in my quest to conquer Nieve”. So Lorenzo picked up his Harley Davidson and went on his way.
His next stop was at night, at the Colombian small town of Uramita. As we know, the Renegade had become a cult celebrity in much of the area thanks to his victory in the Dakar lap, so as soon as he was spotted in the streets he was invited to join a party that was taking place at a local saloon. They offered him free booze, and Lorenzo isn’t one to say “no” to free things. “Free spirit, that sums up my philosophy pretty well” he assured. So he drank and drank until he was in quite an unstable condition. He realized about this so he cautiously opted to stop dancing and drinking and instead climbed to a balcony facing an internal patio that the saloon had, planning to watch the party from there.
It looked like he was going to stay out of trouble for the rest of the night, but the presence of a celebrity like Lorenzo Llama in the party didn’t go unnoticed for long and the female llamas present there started gathering around him. There were young and old, some had pink bow ties, others had dread locks in their wool, but all of them wanted the same thing: the camelid bandit who had won the Dakar lapse.
One of the young female llamas present at the party, on spotting the Renegade.
So they cornered him against the railing of the internal balcony and started harassing him. Unfortunately, Lorenzo’s balance wasn’t exactly perfect thanks to the big amount of alcohol he had taken, and on trying to keep distance from the female herd pestering him he leaned too much over the railing and fell down to the first floor, with such luck that he landed as heavy as he is exactly on top of an unaware guy who was having a drink in the internal patio. They both went to the floor, Lorenzo on top of him, and… surprise! What comes out of this good man’s pockets with the bump of Lorenzo falling over him? Small bags containing drugs, dozens of them, all scattered through the patio, much to the surprise of two or three of the people present there, all of them visitors.
The barkeeper called the police as soon as this happened. Of course the drug dealer would not let them get him so easily… or so he thought. By now Lorenzo was unconscious on top of him, more due to his drunkenness than to the fall, and the Renegade weights a hell of a lot. The drug dealer tried his best to get himself from below the fainted llama, but it was to no avail. As soon as the police officers got the barkeeper’s call they left the party, went next block to the police station, put their uniforms on, grabbed a few guns, combed their hair a bit and went back to the party. When they arrived 40 minutes later, they marveled at how powerful and lasting Lorenzo’s lock had been, as the delinquent was still squeezed below him, his face purple. “Wow, and he did all of this with eyes closed! No wonder this Lorenzo Llama guy is a legend”.
The next day the Police of Uramita prepared a ceremony to congratulate Lorenzo for his heroic efforts in the fight against drug-trafficking, ceremony that had to be postponed one day due to the fact that the Renegade slept through his bender for two days. When it finally took place, Lorenzo received an honorary plaque and the keys to the city before the applause of dozens of people and the sighing herd of female llamas who had harassed him at the saloon. “Collaborating with the police goes against my most firm principles and everything I believe in” a very serious Lorenzo Llama would assure days later about his recognition, “but on the other hand I’ve always wanted to hold a police cosh and one of the cops there looked like he would lend me his, so I behaved well”.
“Are these the keys to the loo?” asked Lorenzo when being handed the keys. “The door couldn’t be locked and opened with the wind so I’ve been having to do my business while holding it with the other foot. It wasn’t comfortable, I tell you”.
In the emotion of the ceremony, Lorenzo went a bit too effusive on the police officer handing him the award. “Please don’t let Nieve see this, I just got carried away” he insisted.
Once the ceremony was over Lorenzo picked his Harley-Davidson, saluted the cheering crowd for one last time and left Uramita, taking the road north through the jungle. He was prepared to finally enjoy a quiet and pleasant day on the road. Little did he know what was about to happen…
As he was climbing a hill on his bike, a monkey appeared on the top with a big bucket of oil. Much to the Renegade’s despair, he poured out the bucket’s content on the road, which made the Harley-Davidson slip sideways and Lorenzo fall off. Before he could even get on his feet again, a bunch of big musclemen full of tattoos, tacks and chains had tied him up, blindfolded him and was taking him somewhere deep in the jungle.
After about half an hour in the biggest of bewilderments, Lorenzo felt they were tying him to a chair and they finally removed his blindfold. He found himself in a large room of what seemed to be a big mansion in the middle of the jungle. Four bouncers were lined up at each side of him, and in the middle of those lines, right in front of him, stood a guy with a moustache, an elegant hat, smoking an Havana cigar and with more gold on him than Lorenzo had seen in his life. The Renegade deducted he was an important drug lord. Over his shoulder, the little monkey that had poured the oil onto the road was making threatening gestures to Lorenzo with his fists closed. “So you are the little brat that handed over our dealer to the police at Uramita, right? Wanna play the hero now?” the drug lord said, and he punched Lorenzo on his face. “You are going to tell us, little clown, what drug lord you work for”.
“Lorenzo Llama knows no boss but his own desires” answered Lorenzo, who wasn’t going to let them intimidate him, and he spit in the drug lord’s face. As the monkey took a piece of cloth out of somewhere and was cleaning the spit from the drug lord’s face, the man ordered the musclemen to take turns to hand Lorenzo a real whacking, punching him in every place possible. But the Renegade’s wools cushioned the punches so it didn’t look like that method would be effective. The drug lord was losing his patience and spoke to his monkey: “Any ideas, Beelzebub?”. Before he could finish his question, the devious quadrumane had jumped down to the floor, caught a pair of scissors, climbed on Lorenzo’s shoulders and was threatening him with cutting the Renegade’s glorious fringe. “Are you going to tell us whom you work for, or shall I order Beelzebub to go ahead?” said the drug lord. Lorenzo decided that he had had enough and that he had to invent a boss if he wanted to have a chance of coming out alive and with his fringe of that one. He thought of the drug dealers he knew.
“Ok, ok, I’m going to tell you. My boss is Banana Llama”.
There was an instant of surprise among the drug mafia members, followed by a general burst of laughter that didn’t seem to find an end.
- Banana Llama! What a name!- said one of the musclemen between laughters.
- Hahaha! Never heard of that guy, but he wasn’t going to get too high calling himself like that!- said another one, hardly being able to speak.
- Yeah, who could respect someone by the name of Banana Llama?- agreed a third one.
The reaction of the monkey when he heard that Lorenzo worked for a guy named “Banana Llama”.
- Boys, –said the drug lord after the laughters had calmed down- if he works for a nobody that on top of everything is called Banana Llama, he deserves to be killed. Go ahead, finish him. Watermelon plus wine method.
- No, wait! –shouted Lorenzo- I didn’t say “Banana Llama”! I said “Bandana Llama”!
Suddenly everyone froze and their jaws dropped almost to the floor. A breath of cold wind ran through the hall. You could hear a pin drop.
After several seconds of the most tense silence Beelzebub (apparently so was called the monkey) hurried to lift the drug lord’s lower jaw, so he was the first one in condition of breaking the silence.
- What did you just say?- he asked Lorenzo in a whisper.
- I said that my boss is Bandana Llama- answered Lorenzo, wondering what the hell was going on.
Beelzebub let out a high-pitched scream and hid under his master’s hat. The drug lord’s face was contracted in a grimace that showed a mix of awe and panic. Some of the musclemen started shouting that they were all going to die, ran to the door and as soon as they were out they disbanded and hid in the jungle. Finally the drug lord, shaking, ordered one of the few men who hadn’t fled to untie Lorenzo, to massage his limbs which had been tied up to the chair and to provide him with food. Beelzebub started to comb Lorenzo’s fringe carefully. The drug lord searched in his pockets and gave Lorenzo everything he had: money, gold, drugs and a few “pay 2, eat 3” tickets for a local fast food chain. “Please don’t tell your boss about this. It was a misunderstanding, really. There's no doubt that he did the right thing in deciding to hand over our drug dealer to the police, he deserved it after all. Just give our respects to him and tell him that if he’s ever willing to grace us with a visit to this part of Colombia we’ll feel privileged to clean the floor he walks upon”.
The reaction of the monkey when he heard that Lorenzo worked for a guy named “Bandana Llama”.
But Lorenzo, sensing that the tide had changed, was feeling inspired. “Wait a minute,” he said “if you don’t want me to tell Bandana Llama anything about this incident there’s a price you’ll have to pay”. The drug lord started shivering. “Anything you want. Money? Female llamas? Cars? A plane? Anything, just don’t tell Bandana Llama” pleaded the drug lord, almost humiliating himself. “Filling the fuel tank of my Harley-Davidson up to the top” answered Lorenzo, proud of his wit. The drug lord ordered his remaining men to do so and after a while our camelid friend was riding his motorcycle again.
“Wow, Bandana Llama must have grown to be a real heavyweight by now. I can’t imagine what an emporium of drugs and organized crime he must be running if these mafiosos were so scared of him. I must make a mental note of calling him someday soon and remind him of our childhood friendship back at the puna, maybe he could be of some use to me” the Renegade thought.
After the incident with the Colombian drug mafia had ended, Lorenzo went on his way to Ohio, with a full fuel tank that according to his calculations would allow him to get to Mexico. “Nieve! Hang on, baby! Daddy’s coming to rescue you from the boring paws of that No Cause nerd!” he shouted to the wind as he took the road north at full speed.
I asked Nieve if she's read the latest outlandish tale by Lorenzo R.
"Oh, puleeese. I read part of it all the way through. That dye job low class llama is his type. Keys to the city? Are they crazy? God knows what he walked off with. And, only asking for fuel from a rich drug load? Same type of stories in different locations. Hate to be one of the two marbles in that brain. Lorenzo kissing the policeman? He's actually embarrassed about something? I have to go. No Cause is here with my breakfast. In bed of course!"
Seems the lovers are still having a great time. Because it's hard to see them in the photo, they enlarged themselves.
I know Bandana Llama is an extremely mysterious and reserved guy to the point that it's not even easy to get a photo of him, but I'm curious as to what he is doing these days. Judging by what happened to Lorenzo, one would imagine he's an extremely powerful and feared guy.
The best therapy for any problem you might have is playing music with friends.