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Chupacabra. Chupacabra
by Peter Calavara


Chupacabra. Chupacabra.

Chupacabra loves to dance dance dance like tomorrow never came. Chupacabra loves to dance 'cause he's Latin. Latin Chupacabra. Kickin' it in the South Atla'; cruising Cuba; bop about from island to island to Florida. Maybe he's some F.O.B. wherever he goes, jet set on a sail, or maybe the boy just flies on the beams of the moon. But however it goes down, that Bermuda Triangle Lover got the moves, got the plays and, man, what a devil with the ladies.

And the ladies, man. Oh lordy the ladies.

They all knew his name; knew Chupacabra. And Chupacabra knew all theirs 'cause he just that good, baby, just that good. Soft and slow like a tide, gentle as a palm frond if that's what was wanting. He could be that for her, but man it never ended that way. And sometimes man, sometimes that ain't even how it would start. He could dance a dame like standin' still in a frolic.

Great lovin' but you know that ain't all the boy got.

'Cause Chupacabra loves to dance. Man, Chupacabra loves to dance. He'd Tango the Waltz with the Mambo while they Salsa'd off into some vermilion beach off that South Atlantic sunrise. And the beat didn't matter which 'cause Chupacabra danced them all. He'd take that beat and make it his own with those crazy gyrating hips he got. Dance dance dance, Chupacabra!

And now here all the folks who saw say:

Man, Elvis ain't got NOTHIN' on this boy!

He'd kick the Congo in Cuban heels then Watusi in the morning wake, Piña Colada in one hand and some sultry satisfied señorita in the other. 'Cause that was just his style. And style, man, style Chupacabra had in spades.

And now here all the folks who saw say:

Aww Yeah! Yeee-eeeah Chupacabra!

Undisputed King of Latin Loving. Or so that's what they all thought. And that's what all those crazy little ladies thought. But then, what's this come up when you're flippin' channels, reading the news or just catchin' on the skinny? Says here or so you hear that maybe Chupacabra ain't got the juice no more and that they gonna hold a contest. Seems that some boys be encroaching on Chupacabra's turf and dissin' on his legend. The people uproar when they hear this 'cause that can't be right. Rioting and walkouts plague like a locust in all the islands of the South Atla'.

And now here all the folk say:

This can't be! Chupacabra is the king!

And secretly the men all feel a little better 'bout themselves. And then not so secretly the women all weep. And then the men hang their heads in shame, knowing they've all been outdone and Chupacabra truly is the king of lovers.

But knowing don't stop the rumor mill churning and the whole world seems to have that question on their lips. Who could there be but Chupacabra?

Chupacabra hears this jive and knows that somethin' gotta be done and soon and how. So he pulls an ad in all the papers, cut and paste like some pornographic ransom note and hops everyone a golden ticket to attend 'cause he's just that nice a guy, Chupacabra is. And boy oh boy, attend they do. Every island, every cay, every atoll, peninsula and rainforest empties as the ladies rush to see our boy and the men rush to keep their Chiquitas out of too much trouble.

And, man, you know where you heard it, right? Hell, yes! You heard it right there on everyone's fave fantastimo radio station KGRL. The Hot Ladies Station. Aw yee-eah. And what did you hear? You heard from up on high that the face-off comin' down was gonna be immense. Sweeps week big and then. 'Cause, yeah, our boy Chupacabra got the jazz in his hips, but comin' cross from Europe is that mad-capped flinger Casanova. And you know what they say about him. Boy's got the moves! So you heard it here first, that this was really gonna get on down to be a contest.

And what's this that they done reported in the Daily Sun? Sure it's a rag sheet but man what a scoop this week, eh? Mr. Ed poppin' out from his digs on the Westside to compete in this contest for the masses for the ladies for the lovin'. So there you go. Three boys at the top of their games.

Now here all the people say:

One HELL of a contest!

It seemed settled and the people put up fliers with what when but then, man, what's this? Word on the QT kicked that there would be a four. Speculation raged like a Gamera on some Sado Island Rampage as to who this four could be that could hold a candle up to silhouette these boys. Tempers ran high until it turned that it was that Ricky Martin fella tryin' to beat the box for some free publicity. Gotta new album, what? But screw that noise and damn that fool. This is a Love competition, natch, not some damn Macarena meltdown. So when this Vida Loca Loco Gringo hit the talk shows with his announcement to compete in competition to be the World's Greatest Lover, it was only natural that he be laughed like a clown until he ran on home to mama. Out of your league, son, out of your league.

And that leaves what? Recap the dash. This was a three-way with the Lords of Lovin', not some upstart thinkin' he got the moves, but the tried and true few who can make a woman wet with a whispered word or a sultry glance. Shakin' their groove thang like a maraca or a Tito Puente down beat.

So here it is when the count comes down:

Chupa Chupa-Cabra kickin' Latin style up from Cuba to score his way.

Casanova from Old-town Europe to rock it missionary.

And Eddie Eddie, mister to you, a devil wit' the fillies and a mean man on the mic with the pillow talk.

Now here all the people say:

Goddamn! Gonna be ONE HELL OF A CONTEST!

And now, you know, I know, we all know that the networks'll be carrying this baby primetime live. And you know, I know, we all know that primetime ain't no HBO ain't no Spice or Playboy and all that jazz so they can't be showin' the loving and how would that go down any which way? Too subjective, baby. And whaddup? This ain't no pornographic scene goin' down. Hell no. World's Greatest Lover is a family affair.

So how do you love the lover that loves the best?

DANCE, when I say DANCE, fool!

And they're off!

The ladies scream as the boys shake shake shake it up to that Elvis tune. Old school props. Mr. Ed lookin' hot as he trots it on hind legs, flower in his teeth and a clickity clack a clickity clack beneath those crazy hooves. Word is the boy been takin' lessons to score a star on down Broadway way to snatch a point or so wit' the Academy. And boy howdy do it show! He tips across like some equine Fred Astaire cum mid 80's King of Pop and damn but the crowd digs it. This boy is a Seabiscuit, baby! Hot to trot!

And then on the far side comes that crazy Casanova with that patented toe tappin' style o' his. You know where he sliiiiiiides on across spinnin' a groove to the beat as he shuffles those feet burnin' that heat and baby the ladies loved it. They squeal like he's the Beatles and trained nurses are kept on hand for the faint of faint. Swoon, girlie, swoon. But that's just his style, knamean?

And all the people say:

What could possibly beat those two boys?

But what's this? You know it's my boy! Chupacabra, baby doll, kickin' it Cuba in the ring as a dozen ladies sing out in operatic tremolos, climax underneath those starry eyes. They think he's dancin' just with them as he smooth talks his way in and out of the rhythm. And all the girls in the stands and all the men who think they're man enough for Chupacabra forget about it and fall in love with the crazy boy and his crazy moves. Sexy like a fox. Chupacabra dances with them all. And we're up here watchin' and the boy is so good, so good, so goddamned good that we think he's dancin' with us. Viewers across the world unite in Chupacabra's eyes, thinking that he's for them via satellite if you got it. The others might dance a good bit of game of lovin' but this ain't no contest.

Now hear all the people say:


After the beat dies down, slowing to some bossanova because the beat don't ever really ever stop, the crowd don't even gotta cast a vote and the whole world knows what the whole world knew all along. Bowing gracious like the fallen holy host they smile 'cause they know, you know, I know, that, yeah, man, they were beaten, but man, they were beaten by the goddamn best there was and is and will ever be. 'Cause Chupacabra got the moves is the man owns the beat.

And the prize for this little soiree after the Nielsens chalk off that new high water mark? Water beds all around and a golden statue fifty feet high, tinted with that crazy silver sheen with our boy Chupa sashaying to his own thing. Girls swoon just to see it there, erected like a rocket to the moon, standin' out on over the water of the Gulf o' Mexi like a talisman, saying, "This is our boy, greatest lover that ever loved: Chupacabra Chupacabra."

Now here all the people sing:

Man, Elvis ain't got NOTHIN' on this boy!


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