Shrimp Ceviche

"Fucking hot today," Tareq muttered to himself as he walked down the sun-scorched streets of Cancun. He wore a garish Hawaiian shirt, open toed sandals and tan cargo shorts. Only gringos and burros walk around in the noonday sun. Tareq knew that, but he had an entire duffle bag full of envelopes to bring to the post office. Over the past 3 days, Tareq had been preparing to mail his letters, containing a short, but pointless message and photographs of his short, deformed penis to the North Pole. 500 letters in total, the photos in each taken using a time-lapse camera in front of which Tareq danced a vulgar nude dance for nearly the entire 3 days.

Tareq's thirst grew as he trudged down the blocks to the post office. Sweat dripping from his brow, Tareq adjusted the strap of the duffle. There was a cantina nearby. The cantina wasn't air-conditioned, but they did have an attractive waitress that Tareq had seen before, and a large selection of tequila. Tareq entered the cantina and ordered a mescal, con gusano. The silvery liquor shimmered in the bottle, and the attractive waitress fished out the worm and dropped it in the drink. There was an satisfying plop as the worm hit the spirits in the glass.

Tareq eyed the drink, and then the waitress, and then the drink again. He gripped the lowball glass in his unsteady hand and slammed down the several ounces of liquor in one gulp, including the worm.

What Tareq didn't know was that the worm was an alien symbiote, and the resultant parasitic infection permanently turned him into a homosexual. While ordinarily that might have upset Tareq, the worm also robbed him of the ability to realize anything had changed. He did have to suck a lot of cocks throughout Mexico and the rest of the world, though.