Mi primo is an idiota
Mi primo was seething with excitement. I use the word “seething” only because my cousin, Omar, isn’t one to smile. Actually, I’ve never seen the man smile. I’ve only seen him seethe. So, today, as he showed what it was that was making seethe, I began to seethe myself.
Omar, mi querido primo Omar, bought a Vespa. It’s teal.
He violently pointed at his new Vespa (did I mention that it was teal?) with his palm and fingers closed in a vertical fashion.
“Mira-lo. It is going to save me dinero, time, and aggravation.”
My primo Omar bought a Vespa.
We walked around the Vespa like you would a Porsche or any other coche. I wasn’t really paying any attention to Omar since I could no longer take anything he said seriously. Ever. He, El Guapo’s primo, bought a teal power scooter. Shame will forever be present in the El Guapo casa.
I realize that it is not me who will have to be seen riding this Vespa through the pot-holed streets of DC, but it will be my cousin Omar. Did I mention that he has a matching teal helmet? Oh, si, he got a deal on the helmet. It's teal.
People in mi barrio know that Omar is my cousin. So, as he goes down 14th street violently honking the “horn”, people will say, “Mira, that’s El Guapo’s cousin riding the Vespa. Is it blue?”
“People think it’s blue, but it’s teal.”
Omar I hate you so much.
I don’t know who designed the Vespa. I could easily find out, but my dinero is on either the Italianos or the French. Someone envisioned riding this glorified bicycle with their Armani suit through the streets of either Paris or Milan. Quiza I’m being ignorante in blaming the French and the Italians, so I’ll actually look up who designed this.
Oh, look at that. Italianos. My apologies to the French. Lo siento. I still hate that you invented the beret, but I’ll give you a pass en este momento.
Yes, it gets good gas mileage. Yes, they’re easy to park. Yes, they’re cheaper than buying a car. But it’s a FUCKING Vespa!
Vespa, in Spanish (and probably in Italian) means Wasp. WASP, to El Guapo, means the guy who isn’t going to give me a job or let me date his daughter.
I can see the Armani-clad, sunglasses indoors Italian designer screaming “Mama-mia” and thinking he is a genius. I then see myself kicking him in the neck. Teal. What the hell color is that anyway?
My cousin Omar bought a Vespa. It’s teal. It’s fucking teal… Joder.