Tex-Mex Guy (7)

   
   "Tex-Mex Guy (7)"
   
   With Curtis riding shotgun, buckled in by way of the Holy Spirit--the Tex-Mex Guy floored it to the sublime, yet fiction-like utopia of the suburban habitats, making sure the nacho cheese didn't get cold and sticky, him wanting it to be hot and lathery, able to be fully dipped into with a corn-crafted chip; therefore, he further ignited the power of  the five liter, the fuel injection system sending him in a tire-burning scurry past a recently ignited green light, and he was mercurially on his way.
   The giggly, rich girl, after receiving her hot and steamy dish, tipped him a crispy Abe Lincoln, and the Tex-Mex Guy was all smiles; next, Celina offered a text upon the screen of his cheap Smart Phone, it read:
  
Hey Tex-Mex Guy.  I think; moreover, I KNOW that I'm falling for you.  We should seriously consider getting serious.  Call me when you're off work.

   Saint Joan appeared in the back of the Mustang, though not sitting upon the steamy fajitas, and said:  "See Adami, your burning celibacy has allowed you to rise with corporeal resurrection.  God Bless the folks like you."  And she gave him a fling upon his cheesy sombrero--him then totally knowing:  friends can be anywhere and anything, as long as they're friendly and love you--and if you love them back.