the rooster of st. pedro

juan followed the narrow dirt path through the winding back alley of st. pedro. the small village was nothing more than a sprawling cluster of crumbling shacks that were held together with little more than sun-baked mud and prayers. juan struggled to hold on to the burlap sack containing "tom cruise," his prize fighting rooster. juan was getting closer and could hear the roar of laughter and angry curses of the old men that had gathered to place bets on the weekly chicken fights. the closer he approached, the more tom cruise struggled to free himself from the dusty sack. "relax boy," he spoke calmly to the rooster, "soon you will taste the sweet glory of victory!" at last they reached the crowd and a hush came over the circle of old men. the crowd slowly parted as juan and his rooster quietly walked to the center ring of rusted chicken wire. juan paused for a moment scanning the crowd, then reached into the sack pulling out tom cruise and quickly raised him high over his head. the crowd gasped. tom cruise's glittering green sequined chicken fighting vest sparkled with brilliant rays as the mesmerized crowd of old men's jaws hung agape.
"the capital of california?" the teacher asked juan for the third time.
juan snapped out of his daydream as the classroom erupted in laughter.
"hollywood?" juan sheepishly replied.
the class now doubling over with laughter. "that's enough boys and girls!" the teacher scolded, "juan, please see me after class."

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