Cryptids on Staff - Chupacabra
I met Chupie back when I was in college. Me and some buddies were in Cabo for spring break, and it was bad. Wheelbarrows full of margaritas, overflowing porta-potties, sunburnt gringos littering the beach with condom wrappers and vomit. At that delusional moment in my personal history I thought it was paradise.
We saw a sign for a wet t-shirt contest as we stumbled down the beach on a tequila bender, and instinctively followed the signage. Chupacabra was sitting at the bar like he owned the place. He told us to call him Chupie, and offered us shots of mescal. We made a toast to spring break and boobies, and then down the hatch.
Chupie was taking pictures of the contest with his iPhone. This was back before the very first iPhone had been released and most people had never seen one in person. All that existed were rumors, and Chupie had one. He let us play with it, and we took turns poking the touch screen with our fingers and repeating this is so fucking cool.
Chupie gave us more shots, and I blanked out soon after. I regained remembering back in our hotel room, sprawled out in the bathtub with a fat lip and a monster shiner. My friends reported there’d been a fight, that I’d called Chupie a goat sucker and punched him in the nose. He hadn’t taken it well, and proceeded to whip me mercilessly with his long, bony tail. He had leaned in and taken a photo of himself hovering above the limp pile of me on the floor, possibly the first documented iPhone selfie in the history of history. Then, as my friends told me later, he declared to the world, Don’t fuck with el Chupacabra!
My friends apologized for me, and Chupie told them it was cool. Some people couldn’t handle the worm. I’ve always felt horrible about this whole incident. Sometimes I consider looking up Chupie, writing him a letter of apology or something. I worry about whether he will forgive me or not, even though he probably won’t even remember who I am.
Funny how one person’s defining moment can be someone else’s forgotten past.