You know the El Rio? Down on Cortez? Well, I’m not surprised; I’d be surprised if you did. It’s not exactly what you’d call a memorable ‘establishment’. Nothing, really, but a cinder block bunker in the middle of a red-dust parking lot. Hell, you wouldn’t even know it was a bar except for the pieces of neon in the black, narrow strip of window. It didn’t even say ‘El Rio’ anymore — so maybe you know the ‘E___io?’ down on Cortez?
Whatever. It was the dive of dives, the black hole of Paris, Texas; frequented, as far as I know, by alcoholic kangaroo rats and inebriated rattlers, or at least the two-legged equivalents.[MORE]