Two Mexicans are lost and they have been wandering aimlessly in the desert for over a week. They are ravenously hungry and near to death. Close to meeting their Maker, they are at the point of collapsing in a heap and waiting for the inevitable when all of a sudden one of them croaks:
"Hey Pepe, do you smell what I smell ?” “Iss a bacon. I sure of eet."
"Si”, says his friend, Luis. “Eet smell lik bacon to mee".
So with new found strength they struggle to their feet and climb to the top of the next sand dune and there in the distance is a tree hung with slices of dozens of rashers of cooked bacon. There is Danish bacon, New Zealand bacon, all sorts of bacon, fried bacon, back bacon, double smoked bacon, all dripping with delicious bacon fat....
"Pepe, Pepe, we is a save-d,” says Luis. "Iss a bacon tree".
“How yu sure iss not a m-i--r-age? We iss in the desert donor you forget",
says Pepe.
“Oh why yu always a pessamist ?” says Luis. Whenna deed you ever hear
of a m-i--r-age that smeellza like bacon... issa no a m-i--r-age, iss a
bacon tree".
And with that .... Luis hurries down from the top of his vantage point on
the sand dune towards the tree. Despite his emaciated condition he finds a second wind and he quickly arrives within a few hundred yards of the bacon tree, with Pepe following closely behind.
All of a sudden a machine gun opens up and Luis is gunned down in his
tracks.
It is evident that he is mortally wounded but true friend that he, is he
tries to warn Pepe and with his dying breath he calls back to his friend:
"Pepe... Go back ! You wassa right, iss not a bacon tree." "OK amigo... I
but, if iss not a bacon tree, what iss it? "
Luis gasps (with his dying breath) ….Iss....
Iss...
Iss..
Iss.
Issa ... Ham Bush !
( Sorry! . . . .

)