Cojito, I Presume?

People are always asking us: where’s Cojito? why is he such a fucking recluse?

Excellent questions. And we could tell you that Cojito, and his half-naked boy servant Manual, are still out there, still raiding the brothels of Central America, still gamely searching for a bendy woman to wrangle the freakishly large Cojito penis. But we won’t. Because it would be a lie. And not our first.

The truth? Manny had both arms torn off by a peckish crocodile. He’s probably back in Colon jerking off with his dirty feet. And Cojito’s not a whore-monger, or guide, or an expert at anything really. Nor is he particularly well-endowed. To be honest, it’s hard to imagine him satisfying a woman. Any woman. Even an extremely horny lady-boy

So, to answer your questions, we figure Cojito’s a recluse because he’s got a lot to hide. Surprised? What did you expect? The man’s a writer. At least that’s what he keeps telling us. And while his work is based on real people, events, and places, most of it qualifies as fiction. The kind of fiction enjoyed by perverts, addicts, and the criminally insane.

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When he is not weighed down with self-importance and man boobs the size of cantaloupes, Cojito is an enthusiastic lover of Panama, the Panamanian people, Panama Beer, and of course, Panama Red. His latest works can be found over at “Vicebot” (most recent – Dengue Fever). They’re considered cutting edge by several ex-girlfriends, members of his immediate family, and the makers of Abuelo rum.