"All legends begin somewhere. Some in the bedroom. Some on the battlefield. Some in Vegas. But there is only one legend that began at all three. The man, the legend, the lad; Sanchez Alfonso." Barack Obama
I know I have been away for a long time. I know you must all have a lot of questions. I know the one at the foremost of your mind is "How big's ya dick, Sanchez?" I will not dignify that with a response except to say that in Mexico, when someone is put to death, they aren't hung. They are Sanchez'd!
I know the second question you will be asking is "Where have you been?" I'm afraid I can not answer that yet. For a multitude of reasons, namely, I'm super hungover and can't be bothered, I will be covering my mysterious disappearance at a later time. But worry not my lessers, the story will be one for the ages. For now, I will invite you to take a knee and bear with me as I take you on a spiritual journey across America and Canada as Sanchez searches for pussy, cheap vodka and pussy*.
It all began back when my Mexican mother was gang raped by a bunch of animals. And I don't mean disgusting people, I literally mean animals. That precise moment of conception set in motion a series of events that would eventually form my life and mould my decisions. And so it was in late 2012 that I boarded a plane headed for America, the land of opportunity and cheap vodka.
The flight over was amazing. Whilst taking his seat, Sanchez spotted a few attractive ladies. With his game face on, Sanchez was in his element. With these attractive women, he was about to embark on a 13 hour trip in a fuselage with no possible exit and reclining seats everywhere. As Michael Jackson accurately predicted mere days before his death, "This is it!" Sanchez soon discovered that the TV screen in front of him would also allow him to start up chats with any seat he chose. Sanchez took out his Mile High Club membership forms and started filling them out because this was a lock. Sanchez turned to his traveling partners, "Have you guys got a key? Because this is a mother fucking lock!" They told him to "stop being a homo" and went back to watching their gay porn.
Sanchez then visited the toilet. Well, to the rest of the plane, this was a run of the mill toilet visit. But to the trained eye, this was a reconnaissance mission. Firstly, Sanchez had to find the pretty ladies and remember their seat numbers and secondly, he needed to see what moves the toilet dimensions would allow him to use. Indeed his doubts were confirmed as the toilet dimensions would not allow him to use his infamous 'Sanchez with the lot' move. He returned to his seat and began the chat. He opened with a classic line, "Hey". He could see the girl he was beginning the chat with. He saw her head turn to count the rows back to Sanchez's seat. They made eye contact. It was fleeting but it seemed to last for hours. Sanchez felt as though she had seen into his soul, like she now knew him better than he knew himself. Before she replied to Sanchez's brilliant ice breaker, she got out of her seat and starting walking. Sanchez's heart was racing. "Bitches be frothin!" he shouted in his head. His fingers fumbled over his seat belt as he rushed to unbuckle it. He was shaking with excitement. The girl approached the toilet but then something strange happened... She kept walking. She walked another 5 metres to the door of the plane. Without warning, she unlocked it, opened it and through herself out the door. She didn't even have the manners to close it behind her, and the air hostesses ran to close it. Sanchez sat there stunned. He went back over his moves, thinking where it could have gone wrong. In all the commotion, Sanchez's companions turned to him and said, "Holy crap, did you see that chick jump out of the plane? What the hell happened?" "Yeah that was crazy, I have no idea what made her do that", Sanchez replied. But as he spoke those words, it dawned on him exactly what had gone wrong. He had come on way too strong with his opening line and fleeting eye contact. Sanchez had been out of the game for so long he had forgotten the effect he had on women. She was clearly so intimidated by his brooding good looks and incredibly smooth pick up lines that she knew by attracting Sanchez, her life had peaked at that very moment. She went out on a high. And I mean a real high cause we were easily at an altitude of about 12km, that bitch be dead. And Sanchez knew it. He had caused it and he had to be careful with his powers. He promised himself he would change and he would be more careful. So as he sat there looking at his empty chat screen he reached up to his screen, found seat 34A and typed, "Hi..."
After about 4 more jumpers, the plane landed safely. LA. What a town. What a place. What a giant dirty shithole. God damn, this place was messier than Sanchez's room at his Mexican farm which was literally a pigsty. Literally. Sanchez's first night out with his lads was a ripper. Being mistaken for One Direction which was a personal highlight in the lives of many of Sanchez's companions, was just the beginning. The lads found themselves attending a rooftop party looking fresh to death. Sanchez had worn a scarf to help fight the cold and was looking on top of his game and was midway through dropping some heavy lines on this little honey when she stopped and asking, "You are gay, right?" She woke up from her coma a few days later with no recollection of the night.
Sanchez moved on from that setback. He saw one of his companions talking to clearly the hottest chick at the club. Sanchez couldn't allow that. If there is one thing Sanchez is famous for, it's being a top bloke. But if there is another thing Sanchez is famous for, it's being a shit bloke. And so the annuls of history will forever tell it, Sanchez came, Sanchez saw, Sanchez cock blocked. The hot girl was steadily getting drunker and drunker and before Sanchez knew it, she was on the verge of being unconscious. It was like all Sanchez's Christmas' had come at once. But as he turned around to say something to her, she was gone! He walked around the club trying to find her. Finally he gave up and found his companions, ready to leave. As they reached the bottom floor, Sanchez saw his incredibly intoxicated female friend. But before Sanchez could unzip his pants, he saw one of his smaller companions by her side. He was helping her to a taxi. Sanchez had been cock blocked. He cursed the lord and asked him to smite his blocker with all his might. As his cock blocking companion helped the prime date rape girl to the taxi, Sanchez looked away... And that's when he heard it. SPLASH! He turned back to see his companion jumping from her side and she crumpled to the ground beside a very large lake of vomit. Sanchez just looked to the sky and knew his will had been done.
Blackness. Blackness everywhere. It was just so dark. This isn't that night, this was the next day. And that's all the lads saw as they cruised the streets of LA in search of a hospital after Sanchez caught a severe case of Bieber Fever. Black people, everywhere. I'm sorry, I know that's racist. As my homeboy Barack will confirm, they prefer the term, django. There were just so many djangos.
After a few night in LA it was off to Vegas and that was where the real fun began. Join me next week as the secrets of Vegas are leaked.
Til then, keep drinking.
* Like, lots of pussy. You wouldn't believe how much pussy. Almost too much pussy.
