And El Guapo came upon the River of Blood, so named because the blood of one thousand dead ran through its entirety. Beasts of demonic possession pranced about El Guapo taunting him and poking him with pointy sticks. Oh, the fabled were-rabbit, fangs percolating the tender necks of its own young. And the Cerberus, three headed dog monster, guardian of the underworld. There are more, noted El Guapo, but only their unholy, red eyes could be observed blistering from the shadows of the Kings Statues.
A skeletal brass band played off colour Spanish boogies, piercing the ears of the restless souls skulking the area between Heaven and Hell, who howl and moan at the subterranean ensemble. The band rattles when they hit the high notes and far away wolves howl in unison. The rotten sights that surround the River unnerve El Guapo, but the cowardice that dwells in the pit of his stomach cowers under the might of his overwhelming indignation. The River is but the first of many hurdles confronting the man on his quest to Underworld and he was determined not to fail so early.
The River Man, Tobias, the legendary Spirit written of in Holy Scripture, a ferry for the doomed souls drifting to their ultimate domicile, proudly stands ashore awaiting his next fare. El Guapo humbly approaches him, awed before the mighty visage, and exclaims his intentions of crossing the River. Tobias laughs and explains in a patronising tone that the undead cannot cross, but only the vapours of the already deceased. He gestures grandly to unfortunates who wait their turn by the cliff side, perhaps to linger an eternity or more before crossing to the Underworld.
El Guapo backed away with coy but deep within his chest he burned. The three heads of Cerberus cackled at him, three sets of fangs sparkling, three drips of saliva and six wild eyes. The River Man threw a fistful of dust into the mouths of the beast to quieten him down and the beast did quieten and retreat to his hole. But El Guapo was not going to be stopped from attaining his goal. Being alive was but a small obstacle and one that could be resolved quite easily. He had declared his eternal dedication to his one true love, Sophie Aurelia, and now would prove it by committing suicide to reach her in the Underworld.
He got to his knees and blessed himself, reciting the prayer to Mary six times and the Lords Prayer a further twelve. The River Man looked upon El Guapo with the same awe that had been reserved for him. He watched as El Guapo placed large rocks into the pockets of his gown and sneered as he dove into the River of Blood, gulping down the poisonous juice, allowing the venom to ooze through his clothing and into his skin, destroying his physical body.
And from out of the flow rose a pure being, blessed by the Almighty and entitled by act and gesture to cross the watercourse unhindered. The River Man, Tobias, bowed before El Guapo and whispered his apologies, promising to serve the quasi-deity until he found his lost love. And together they crossed the raging torrent on the raft of bones. When upon reaching the opposite bay, Tobias informed his master of the barriers that still lay ahead but El Guapo was undisturbed and trekked on to his destiny.