One of the guys was Latino; the other Anglo. They both had accents. Doesn’t everyone? The stocky Latino guy had an Afro haircut and spoke fluent English with a Mexican accent; the scrawny Anglo wore his black hair in a pony tail and sounded like someone from western North Carolina or eastern Tennessee.
The Mexican dude said, “I can’t see any reason to live past thirty, man. I want to shoot my wad by then and check out. How about you, hermano?” He lit up again, handed his butt to the scrawny guy, who jump-started another one.
“No, I wanna live a lot longer than that before I die.”
“How the hell old do you want to get before you check out, then?”
“I don’t know—old, old like Granny.”
They both held it in and then blew the smoke out against the window.