Mexican の小説・ストーリー

“Your papa give dinero. Lucky you. He pay today and we send you home. Comprende?” Jon just nodded. His throat was parched and raw. He was afraid speaking would hurt. “You should say thank you to us for treetin’ you so good, sí?” A trickle of blood slid out of the talking Mexican’s nose. The others laughed arrogantly at his words, once they had been translated. Blood then started to run out of another’s nose, then another, then another, till they were all bleeding.

three days pass Lola hasn't still pulled through her coma state. "¿Quién es esta mujer a la que trajiste medio muerto de Texas? se ve rico Miguel, ¿cómo es que casi fue asesinada? preguntó el médico local en español. - " who is this woman you brought half dead from Texas? she looks rich Miguel, how come she was almost murdered? the local doctor asked in Spanish"

As she begins her umpteenth trip from one side of the room to the other, I pull on my magic and fan my fingers out causing her feet to get stuck to the marble floor of the hallway. “¡No mames!” She exclaims nearly toppling forward and assessing her feet. She looks up at me and narrows her eyes then proceeds to throw some very colourful Mexican swear words at me, some I can’t even translate. Something about a donkey? I’ll have to get a translation on that later.

his voice was low and lethal. A man muttered in Spanish across the table. “Speak something we all understand, Caribbean,” another sneered. The first man’s chair scraped against the floor as he leaned forward. “My roots are Mexican, not Caribbean,” he growled. “And you don’t earn the right to hear me.”

" You are right about that. Although when you hear the word Mexico,all you think about is drug trafficking,it is still a major tourist attraction site. Art and culture are deeply rooted in the city, not forgetting that if you want the Best reggaeton music, then Mexico City will be your best choice. " Is that why your first stop was this City?" Lucia asked the obvious. Ezekiel was fond of reggaeton music. That was something you could never miss in his phone. Everytime be drove,he would connect his phone with the car system and play songs by his favourite reggaeton band, CNC O.

“There is no rush to get married. Let’s wait until Regal Palace returns to Celestial Empire.” “Okay.” *** The following day, inside the conference room of the authorities’ headquarters of Mexico. The chief of the Mexican authorities and Jim were sitting on both sides of the conference table. The atmosphere in the room seemed rather odd and gloomy. Though the official chief of Mexico was in control of the country, this land had long been a mess. The government’s incompetence had made life impossible for the people. All kinds of drug dealers were roaming freely in this land. The authorities had lost their control in many places.

When he sees me he smiles and walks over. -How's it going?- he asks as if we have known each other We've known each other all our lives. I shrug my shoulders. - I'm Axel, and you? -Kara- I answer. -Axel, come on, there are some hot twins and Campbell doesn't want you to come- says the blond entering the kitchen and shouting a little bit because of the music- oh the waitress, I'm Liam. -Kara- I answer without much enthusiasm.

Daley's words struck me, and then he went on, “Mickle thinks Mexico is responsible for the drug epidemic in the United States. He thinks that just building a wall is not going to work, and expanding the war is going to solve the problem.” “What do you mean by expanding the war?” I asked. “It means there could be a war,” Daley said in a heavy voice, “His decision upset Mexican officials, who didn't want a war. So they wanted to negotiate with Mickle, and my business depended on them. So...”

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

“Good afternoon!” “Carina, this is Mr. Pyke Hughes and,” Liv looks at me as if she finds trouble in introducing me as her daughter or as a friend. I wave my hand at her, smiling back. “I’m Camila, Liv’s daughter.” I feel Pyke’s hand squeezing my knee. I can sense my mother freezes on her seat across the table and Levi’s eyes slightly widen. “Nice to meet you, Bella.” “Thank you!” “Do you have orders yet? We have special Burrito, Chili Relleno, and Enchiladas.” The word burrito drawls from her. It sounds good from a Mexican tongue.