Out of his Turf
STRAIGHT, NULLIFICATION
Henry should never have have entered the turf of the Hispanic Hidalgos for ANY reason, even for Maria.
All persons, places, and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, places, or events is purely coincidental.

Author's note: In passages of Spanish-accented English, I have used "kh" for a
gutteral "h" sound similar to the "ch" in German and used by English-speaking
Hispanic persons for "h" which is silent in Spanish.

Henry was very uneasy as he got off the train at the "El" station and walked
hesitantly down the stairs to street level. He didn't belong here and he knew
it. This was Hispanic Hidalgos' turf and as a Ghetto Master, he was very
unwelcome. Though, of course, he wasn't wearing Ghetto Masters' colors, still,
he felt out of place.

For one thing, his color was all wrong. The Hispanics here were white, though
some showed a perpetual tan. Henry's complexion was an odd yellowish brown,
bespeaking his mixed ancestry: African, Native American, and Japanese. He was
sure that he looked as out of place as he felt.

But, hormones will drive a man to do many unwise things and Henry had hot nuts
for a girl named Maria. They had met at a party at a Youth Center which most
gangs regarded as neutral territory. Gang colors were strictly forbidden and
members who attended events at the centre were assumed to be incognito. The
haughty Hispanic Hidalgos claimed that they never attended events at the Youth
Center. Actually, they had at least one spy at every event.

Henry's peculiar coloration, which turned off even some of his fellow Ghetto
Masters, attracted Maria Ramirez who called it "exotic". Henry suspected that
she might also have been impressed by the exceptional bulk of his package, the
heritage of the black and Native American men on his mother's side of the
family. His Japanese father was puny down there.

To say that Henry was smitten with Maria would be a collossal understatement.
While dancing with her he had gotten a very conspicuous boner which attracted
some amused and some hostile looks from the other males at the dance, and
embarrassed him. He usually had better control than that.

Maria gave him her address, which Henry immediately recognised as being in the
Hispanic Hidalgos' turf. If he hadn't been so hot for her, that would have
scared him off, and it should have. The Ramirez family had no 'phone and
Henry's handwriting was hopelessly illegible. The only way he could get in
touch with her was to go there.

Though he had lived in this neighborhood as a very small boy, Henry no longer
remembered it clearly and was having difficulty in finding the address which
Maria had given him. It seemed to him that he could feel the hostility around
him as a palpable thing which impeded his movements. He felt as if he were
wading through molasses. He stopped often, trying to read the faded peeling
street signs or to recognise long-forgotten landmarks.

Then, that which he had feared most came upon him. As if out of nowhere, two
tall black-clad figures appeared, one at each side of him. They wore long
black cloaks and wide-brimmed black hats. Their faces were pale with harsh
angular features and thin black moustaches above thin austere lips. LOS
HIDALGOS HISPANICOS !

Each held a long dagger, one in his right and the other in his left hand, the
points not quite touching his rib cage. The one on his right spoke. "Khwat are
jou doeeng khere ?" Henry stammered "Ah, ah, ah got lost. Ah got off at the
wrong stop." The Hidalgo on his left asked "Do jou expect us to believe that ?
Jou are five miles from Ghetto Masters' torf. "

Oh God, they'd recognised him, but how ? He wasn't wearing colors, Had they
seen him before ? "Unless jou wan' jour body to be foun' khere in the street,
jou weel come weeth us." The dagger points now pricked his sides lightly to
emphasize his helplessness. Literally quaking in his boots, Henry complied.

They marched him to the door of a building with a sign reading "El Círcolo
Hispanico". On the door there was a sign in English reading "Private Club -
Members Only". One of the men knocked on the door in a complex pattern which
Henry didn't recognise as Morse Code for CH: _._. .... .A panel in the door
opened and the man on Henry's right said "Arriba Espańa" . This was an
alternate password used when non-members were present.

The door opened into a very ordinary-looking taproom across which Henry was
hustled to a staircase at the back which led down into the cellar. They
crossed the cellar and turned left to a door in the cellar wall which opened
into a tunnel. After a couple of right-angle turns, the tunnel led through
another door into another cellar, a the far end of which was yet another door
opening into another tunnel.

This tunnel ended at a massive oak door studded with large,black, wrought-iron
nails. This door opened in response to another Morse Code knock, this time SP
for "Sangre Puro", the motto of the Hispanic Hidalgos. Through it Henry was
hustled into 16th Century Spain. This room was lighted by pillar candles on
wrought-iron candle stands. The men wore black tights, black velvet doublets,
and swords. When his captors removed their cloaks and hats, they proved to be
dressed in the same fashion. They were handed swords in scabbards which they
buckled onto their belts.

Although Henry knew a little Spanish, he couldn't make out anything that was
being said. No one was allowed to join the Hispanic Hidalgos until he had
mastered pure Castellano. No English or gutter Spanish was permitted to be
spoken here. The members all addressed each other as "Don". Henry's captors
were addressed as "Don Juan" and "Don Diego". All of the men wore the same
haughty look of arrogant superiority.

All of them were either immigrants or the sons of immigrants from Puerto Rico
and Mexico and therefore could surely not be the hidalgo grandees which they
claimed to be, but they acted the part superbly . They retained both their
fathers'and mothers' surnames. Don Diego was known in the organization as Don
Diego Vasquez y Menendez. Of course, he pronounced the names with the
Castillian lisp as "Vasqueth y Menendeth"

Sangre Puro (pure blood) was not merely a motto but an obsession with them.
The Hispanic Hidalgos guarded their womenfolk carefully and refused to allow
their sisters or daughters to mingle their pure blood line with that of men of
inferior lineage. "Mongrels" who became too familiar with Hispanic Hidalgo
women suddenly found themselves incapable of passing on their impure blood to
future generations. Henry knew nothing of this and his ignorance had placed
him in a perilous situation.

In addition to being white supremacist and male supremacist, though, the
Hispanic Hidalgos were absolutely intolerant of drugs and prostitution. Drug
pushers, drug dealers, and pimps were unwelcome on the streets of the
Hidalgos' turf, and, if one appeared there, he was never seen or heard from
again.

Despite their fondness for daggers and swords, the Hispanic Hidalgos did not
disdain the use, at need, of modern firearms. After a few attempted drive-by
shootings were thwarted by automatic rifle fire, the word got around to cool
it and keep out of their turf. The Hidalgos were a power to be reckoned with
and not an altogether bad one.

This was not an opinion shared by the Ghetto Masters and especially not by
Henry Nakamura in his present awkward situation. Don Juan and Don Diego
brought him to a man whom they treated with great respect, Don Fernando
Velasquez y Torremolino del Castello Moro, their leader .

Don Diego, who had been present as a spy at the Youth Center dance had
recognised Henry as a Ghetto Master and explained to Don Fernando how they had
found him wandering about evidently looking for something. Don Fernando told
them to bring Henry to the interrogation chamber, a euphemism for a
reproduction of a medićval torture chamber.

There, Henry was fettered to a wall with antiquated but very serviceable iron
gyves. Don Fernando prided himself on speaking as excellent English as he did
Castillian. He now questioned Henry in far better English than Henry spoke, he
being more at home in Ebonic.

"What are you, a Ghetto Master, doing here in Hispanic Hidalgos' territory ?",
he asked quietly. "Ah got off at da wrong stop." replied Henry. Don Fernando
slapped him across the face with the back of his hand. "Five miles from your
own turf ? Surely you can do better than that !", snarled Don Fernando. Henry
whimpered. "It's all a mistake.", he sobbed. "That, I can believe", said Don
Fernando. "It is the worst mistake you have ever made.

It is most unlikely that you were sent here as a spy. You are far too inept
and cowardly to be of any real use as a spy. So, why ARE you here ?" Henry was
silent. Don Fernando reached down, seized Henry's package and squeezed.
"Speak....before you need to scream. WHY ARE YOU HERE ? " Henry screamed first
and then spoke. "A gal, ah was tryin' to find a gal."

"Her Name ?" asked Don Fernando, releasing his grip on Henry's balls. "Maria,
Maria Ramirez. Ah'm in love with her." Don Fernando slapped Henry across the
face

again. "You Dare ! Maria Ramirez y Torres de Hermosillo is one of OUR women, a
white woman de sangre puro, of pure blood, and YOU dare to lust after HER, you
MONGREL ! Look at you. You're not a pure-blooded anything. Black, Asian, and
God knows what else. You are a MUTT! NEVER will she be defiled with the seed
of a thing like you !"

Don Fernando ordered Don Diego to take down Henry's pants and bring him un Em
Ochenta. The orders were given in Castillian and Henry had to wait to see what
they meant. As soon as he saw the object in Don Diego's hand, Henry knew that
Em Ochenta means M-80. Oh God, what was he going to do with that ?

In a moment, Henry's pants were down around his ankles. He was wearing tight
white briefs which showed off his impressive genital endowment to best
advantage.

At the moment, this was definitely not to Henry's advantage. Further
instructions in Castillian followed and Don Diego carefully tucked the M-80
inside the pouch of Henry's tighty whiteys, so that it nestled directly under
and between his testicles with just the fuse protruding through the fly.

"This pyrotechnic device will assure that you never pollute the pure blood of
any Hispanic Hidalgo woman with your mongrel seed." explained Don Fernando. "
I must now take my leave of you for a moment. I don't want my clothing soiled
with the wreckage of your sex organs. "

Don Fernando took a small taper from Don Diego who left the room. He lighted
it from one of the post candles which illuminated the torture chamber and
after using it to light the fuse, took a hasty exit from the room. He had
barely enough time to close the door before the explosion, which was followed
by a terrible scream. Even the thick walls and door of the torture chamber
were inadequate to muffle the sounds.

When Don Fernando opened the door of the room, Henry was still screaming and
sobbing . His briefs had been blown to shreds, His shirt, belly, thighs, and
even the opposite wall of the room were spattered with the shattered remains
of his once impressive genitals. A useless stump, perhaps 1/3 the original
length of his penis dangled over the gory mess between his thighs.

Rather unnecessarily, Don Fernando commented, "Now, you no longer need to find
Maria. You will never need her or any other woman as long as you live."
Tersely, Don Fernando gave orders to take Henry down off the wall, re-clothe
him and bring him to the Emergency Room of a nearby hospital, leave him on the
curb and leave as quickly as possible .

Henry, having sunk into a coma from shock, knew none of this. He awoke in the
hospital to discover that he had retained only a 3" stump of his penis. Gangs
do not involve the police in their affairs. Henry told the police that he
remembered nothing about what had happened to him. He was not sure that he
dared tell the truth about it to the Ghetto Masters either, however.

They might not approve of his falling in love with a Hispanic Hidalgo girl and
invading their turf to find her. It might be better if he just left the whole
matter a mystery by claiming amnesia, which, he had heard is not uncommon in
cases of severe trauma.

Don Fernando was right, of course, Henry never needed a girl again, just as he
never needed a jockstrap or a razor any more.  

* * *