I left you last telling a story about a great friend that I had after I retired from the wrestling business. His name was Jose Flores, and he was born in Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. He migrated to the rich farms of Northwest Ohio early in his life. He made a modest living and raised a family of 13 children. He was further blessed with 32 grandchildren and four great-grandchildren before his passing.

Mexican Joe, as his friends called him, was a buddy to anyone that liked wrestling. He and his wife had faithfully attended the matches in Toledo for over 30 years. Joe would often befriend the wrestlers at these events and invite them to his home in Perrysburg. One of Joe's favorites was Louis Martinez, a crowd favorite who hailed from Monterey, Mexico. He and Joe would often spend many hours at Joe's home looking at magazines and pictures.

Joe was a practical joker and had a weird sense of humor when it came to playing games with people's emotions. He took no nonsense from the workers he was in charge of at the alfalfa mill, but he never abused his authority. Everybody that worked with him loved the guy because of his smile and friendly attitude.

My Uncle Basil, who lived in Florida, often visited me, and we would go to Joe's home. Joe and Basil both dabbled in antiques and silver coins. Basil also was known to carry a live rattlesnake in the trunk of his car in a cardboard box. It's better then carrying a gun; my uncle said, "How are you going to handcuff a rattlesnake for something he did?"

Unknown to me, Basil had prepared himself for one of the biggest ribs he had pulled on Joe. He had gotten a cardboard box, put tin foil on one end, and stuffed the rest of the box with newspapers crumbled over that. He then had gotten a dishtowel and soaked it in the wet mud near the Maumee River, not far from Joe's home. He coiled the towel up like a snake would be and then closed the box after he cut a hole in the bottom corner of the box near the edge. He placed the box in the trunk of his new Lincoln Continental.

We arrived at Joe's home on a bright Sunday afternoon, and, after the usual greetings and hugs from the family members, we sat down to a great meal that Joe's wife and daughters had made. We had a combination dinner of chimichangas and tacos made with homemade shells. Joe and Basil enjoyed some imported wine Joe got from a friend in Texas.

After dinner was over, Joe and Basil sat down and showed off new items that they had gotten since their last visit. Joe had brought out a box that he had some new silver quarters and half dollars in. Basil had brought in a locked security bag he had gotten from Barnett Bank in Florida, and he dumped out close to 700 like-new silver dollars on the table. Joe's eyes got as big as dinner plates looking at the table full of silver.

Joe made the mistake of reaching over Basil and grabbing a handful of silver from the table. Basil looked at me and said, "If this guy was not our friend, I would go to my car and get my cardboard box ... I would get my rattlesnake out of the trunk and turn him loose in here." Joe thought that Basil was just kidding and looked at him with a puzzled gleam in his eye.

They continued to look at the table full of coins, and, again, Joe reached over Basil and grabbed another handful of coins. Basil grabbed his friend's arm and made him stop in the middle of his movement. Basil said, "My friend ... You don't own these coins, and keep your hands off of them." Joe just kind of sat dumbfounded and looked at Basil and couldn't figure out why he was ruining the day for him.

Basil reached out and started scooping the coins back into the lock bag. Joe said, "Hey, I want to buy some of them. It's not fair that you have so many and won't sell me some." Basil got up from the table and went to the sofa in the front room and sat down with the bag of coins. Joe and I followed, and it wasn't long before Joe wanted back in that bag again to get some of the beautiful coins Basil had brought with him.

After a few minutes, Basil looked at me and said, "Go and get my box out of the trunk and bring it to me." I told him that I didn't like snakes, and, had I known that he had that snake in the trunk, I would not have come with him to Joe's home. After all, Joe was my friend a long time before meeting Basil. It was then that Basil got up and handed me the bag with the coins in it and started out the door. I said to Joe, "I hope that he doesn't bring that box in here, there are too many people that snake can bite." Joe said to me, "I hope that is true … I don't like snakes either."

Just then the door flew open, and Basil came in with a cardboard box in his hands. He sat down on the couch next to Joe and began to tell Joe that NOBODY messes with him and gets away with it. Suddenly, the box started to move, and sounds of rustling and rattling began. Joe was beginning to back up on the couch, and Basil started to inch closer to him. Joe was at the end of the couch when Basil reached inside the box and grabbed the contents and threw it on Joe's chest. Kids were scrambling for the doors, and Joe had grabbed the wet, coiled-up dishtowel and tried to throw it from his chest. He was gasping and trying to regain his composure. Sweat had broken out on his body, and his old green hat had fallen from his shaved head.

One of Joe's sons had come forward and took the towel off his chest and told him that it was only a big joke. Joe looked at Basil with eyes as open as they could get, grabbing his chest and half crying, and started cussing him out, calling him more names than a seasoned drill instructor could come up with. Basil was laughing so hard internally that he finally let it out and grabbed Joe and they started hugging each other and calling each other names that I can't print in this column. Before you knew it, they were the best of friends again and looking at coins.

Joe contracted an infection and first lost a small toe from his right foot and, six months later, lost his leg from complications. He was placed in a nursing home, and, a week later, he was gone from us. The procession from the funeral home had over a hundred cars in it. I sure miss the guy, as we had a lot of good memories together.

Rest in Peace ... Mi Amigo.