Peckerwood Manor

It's a well-known fact in Mexico that Mariachi bands, with their guitars and comically large hats, are often seen as a mischievous bunch. Their territorial disputes, while not to be taken lightly, are a reflection of the larger societal issues at play. These audacious villains, more brazen than any cartel, launch their attacks in broad daylight, often targeting the innocent or, worse, their rivals. This was a lesson a firebreather learned one sunny day in front of the ironically named Taqueria Infierno in Morelia, just west of Mexico City.  It seemed like the mariachis would get away with violence again, yet they hadn't considered there was something poetic about getting bested in front of a taco place called HELL by a fire-throwing demon, who happened to be a street performer. Early in the altercation, a mariachi was getting the best of the fire thrower, who was initially defenseless, until he remembered his unique talent. Why don't I barbeque this bastard? And like a drag