Part 43: Rosetta's Hacienda

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Did anyone say Mexican food? Authentic Tex Mex. The real thing. She’d come south from Old San Antone and knew how to make it. She taught her young-uns.

Trog was a mite big to get off the Bridge in this area but we managed. I, very carefully, drove him along some particularly wide surface streets for a few miles and then pulled into the lot of the Hacienda, outside the dome. For the first time in a while we were no longer in sight of the Bifrost Bridge.

Lucky for me Rosetta's Hacienda was in an undeveloped area. The restaurant's protective dome covered the center of big, big lot surrounded on three sides by raw land. Rosetta, the original Owner had long since passed on. She had been old when I had known her as a lad. That was longer ago than I cared to think about. Her grand kids were running the place now. I doubted that any of them would remember me. They’d all been little naked babies the last time I was here.

Didn’t matter. I wasn’t here to visit I was here to EAT.

I was HONGRY!

Trog and his new train was long enough to arc around a LOT of the parking lot that was under the dome, do I didn’t park close. I parked at the very rear of the property to avoid blocking any driveways. People just naturally don’t like big trucks, and Trog and his train were bigger than most. Oddly enough, people sure need what big trucks carry. Less now than before the vac-tubes and 3d printing it is true. They still needed us and would for some time. Even so, there was no need to aggravate the poor little fellers unless I had to. I paused at the entry to the Hacienda, looked back, and admired Trog. He was certainly an awesome sight. I sighed in memory of Chris one more time..then I went inside.

It was time to do what I came here for. Time to EAT!

I walked inside and things were just like I remembered them from so many, many years ago. There was half naked children and animals everywhere. Rosetta had been a crazy cat woman although she had liked dogs too, and horses…and…well never mind. Rosetta had liked a LOT of things.

One of Rosetta’s house lions’ kittens must have had kittens herself. Would that be grand kittens? Half grown kittens were everywhere. Must be hell on the dawgs. The feline kittens and the other baby gurl human kittens, and the little boys, were running amok in the dining room. It was a hell of a thing to see toddlers wearing only diapers, riding cats like they were ponies, while racing around the tables in the dining room.

It felt just like home.

Some of the larger two legged kittens were waitresses, and they weren’t wearing a whole lot more than a diaper themselves. Rosetta’s patrons and staff wasn’t real partial to air conditioning. They like the natural air, and it was warm, so the females didn’t wear a whole lot of clothes. I think they just liked to show off. I think they liked the attention.

That was OK!

They sure were purty. A hat, maybe a vest (maybe not!), a miniskirt or a loincloth, a sixgun or two in fancy leather fast draw rigs.…and cowboy boots. Not hard to look at.

At all….at all.

Rosetta didn’t give a warm bucket of spit about dress codes. Neither did her young ‘uns. No one else seemed to mind either, in fact they liked it. The teenage girls were certainly easy on my old eyes…and they loved to tease. They attracted business like honey attracted flies. Topless waitresses wearing boots and toting six-guns, children riding parlor panthers.

That, and Authentic Tex-Mex. Good Beer and Whisky. Pool tables, a dance floor, live bands, non-stop poker in the back room. What’s NOT to like? When I was a kid the place was always pretty much packed.

It looked like it still was.

I took a shine to one of them half grown young-uns right from the start. That is he took a shine to me. He was one of the four legged kind of young-uns…a panther kitten. He probably didn’t weigh a hundred pounds. He didn’t have near his full growth yet. You know how cats are. They either like you on sight or they ignore you. He liked me. The minute I walked through the door he walked right up to me and rubbed against my leg.

He almost knocked me down, so I sat down instead, in a chair, at an authentic, split log, custom table made from oak. Printed from their own 3D graphene printer in the basement no doubt. It sure did LOOK like oak..but I knew better. Looks were deceiving. Oak wasn’t nuthin’ like what this thing was made of. Oak wasn’t near as tough. This thing was probably fireproof, rot proof, termite proof, kid proof, kitten proof and bullet proof. The whole place was like that. It looked real pretty and cute but it could probably withstand an artillery barrage.

I’m certain it could. I’d helped build it. Back in the day I hired on for a while with a contractor. I was a big old strong boy…I did a lot of the heavy lifting. We rebuilt the place. A swarm of Jihadis had driven a truck full of explosives into the old place. Then they blew it up. The explosion had kilt a bunch of people. Lots and lots of women and children. I never heard what kind of Jihadis they were. They might have been Extreme Vegans, Militant Gays or Feminists, Radical Fundamentalist Baptists or Muslim Terrorists for all I knew.

Rosetta had swore a mighty oath that such a thing would NEVER happen again on her property. So far it hadn’t. A lot of Jihadis had tried, a lot of Jihadis had died. No one attacked Rosetta’s customers and lived to tell about it.

I wonder if that might have something to do with why this place was so popular? That and the topless young ladies with guns. I noticed the customers. They were mostly all armed also. I liked it that way. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy when everyone was armed. An armed society is a polite society.

I remembered that I was hungry.

I sat there in the chair and petted the kitty. I ordered ‘Rosetta’s Plate’ as soon as the waitress walked up. I didn’t even need to look at a menu. That dish had a special place in my heart...and belly. The time that I was helping to rebuild this place…Rosetta had fed all us construction workers for free. She wouldn’t accept no payment from us either. She saw to it that the cook gave us all that we could eat. For a gang of sweaty construction workers that was saying something.

When the lithe, young, topless, gun-slinging, buxom blonde waitress returned with my plate, I hardly even noticed HER. I was that hungry. The plate had TWO cheese enchiladas covered with chile con carne sauce. A small steak was also included, and a bowl of chili that was topped with onions and melted cheese. I LOVE me some chili with sweet chopped onions and tart cheese. The cook didn't scrimp on the portions neither, it was pretty huge, just like old times. There were also a couple of crispy taco’s with con queso on the side and plenty of chips.

I had a pint or two of black German beer to go with it.

I was enjoying myself. I was savoring the taste. It tasted GREAT! I had it about halfway ate when from the porch there came such a clatter. A small pony, that was cut to ribbons, beat up and bleeding all over, burst through the front door, tripped, fell over, and slid across the dance floor in smear of it’s own blood right up next to me…and then it died.

To Be Continued
The Next Episode is
Part 44: Up Close and Personal
The Previous episode was
Part 42: Returning Home
the first episode was
Part 1 : Winter Storm

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