They say he was the devil in a
sombrero, and to keep your women and your children out of his
reach, for he was big, bad and mean as a raging bull.
His mother was said to be a scorpion, his father, a cactus. As a
baby, he never slept nor cried a tear, never learned to speak a
pleasant word or turn a simple smile. His only friend was to be
found in his halo of flies that followed him from town to town.
His breath was gun smoke, his blood, Mescal, and his heart, the
worm. .Some say he was never born, and yet, some say he died and
haunts the creatures of the dessert to this day.