The churrascaria had been closed for months, a victim of the gentrification that was long promised but never happened.
The ornate plate glass windows and doors had been transformed by neglect and well-aimed rocks; a crossword puzzle of empty space and dusty glass.
Pablo had been the last gaucho hired. More than anyone else, Pablo had dedicated his life to the art of presenting and serving the grilled meats on their steel skewers. The loss of his position affected him profoundly, sending him into a deep psychotic depression. His mind constructed an elaborate fantasy world to help him function. In this alternate reality, a discarded piece of rebar served as a replacement skewer; a soiled Strawberry Shortcake blanket became an apron.
Day by day, Pablo roams the streets in search of diners. Sadly, he finds no takers for his Radiator-Grilled Pigeon Rolled in Cigarette Butts and Gravel, served with a leftover Coffee Reduction.
Soon this artifice became too much to bear. Pablo was found impaled on his own makeshift skewer, a cardboard disc[handcolored red] by his side.