I ran into Diego, a guy from my old neighborhood who works as a handyman, a Jack of all trades if there ever was one.
He was dressed from head to toe in bright whites…Polo Shirt, Bermudas, sneaks that looked like big baby shoes, but spanking white, like he had just alighted from a cruise ship.
Apparently, he had been in Maine working on someone’s summer house…grande, he told me…leek a coostle.
He slept in a tent, oonder the stars, and had all his meals cooked by a Senora named Meez Eeleezebeeth who brought them to him on a tray with piernas (legs).
“Eet wooz beest veecetion, eever,” he said,” purring like a sated cat.
“Well Diego, Maine must agree with you since you look better than I’ve ever seen you,” I said, admiring his snappy clothes.
His smile that matched mine like two tumblers about to toast, got even bigger before saying…
“EEL. EEL. Bean…