“El Guapo, I got a tattoo.”
En serio? Seriously?
“Si hombre. I’ve always wanted to do it and Carlito just got his license, so I said what the hell.”
Carlito? The Carlito we grew up with?
“Si. He just came back to DC. He was in Florida on vacation.”
Oh, Vacation. Is that what they call going to prison in Florida?
“Anyways, he’s back and he got his license. He always was a pretty good drawer and my tat looks awesome. I can’t wait for the nieves to see this.”
This is the same Carlito that used to keep dead birds in his pockets right? I just want to make sure I have the right mental picture of who was giving you your tattoo. What is your tattoo? Is it a mariposa? A hummingbird maybe? A bunny?
“YES. That Carlito. Don't be an idiota. I put mi nombre on my arm. M-I-G-U-E-L.”
Ay Dios mio… You have become that guy. You’re the guy with his own name on his arm. Why did you do that?
“So they never forget my name hombre! Also, when I take off my shirt at the clubs, they can call it out! Plus, I got it done in gangster letters. Check it out.”
Damn. That does look nice. It looks really good.
“See? Carlito is the man!”
Yeah, he is the man. Hey, didn’t Carlito drop out of high school?
“El Guapo, let it go. He’s a new person now with a new career. That’s his past man. His pasado.”
I agree totally with you. I only ask because, bueno, he spelled your name incorrectly on your arm. That’s a “J”. That’s a gangster “J” on your arm. Your tattoo is spelled M-J-G-U-E-L. Actually, wasn’t Carlito dyslexic? But it looks good though. How should we pronounce that? You know, for when they call out your name at the clubs.
“Hijo de una puta…”
Hey! Where are you going? MJ, where are you going? Oh, MJ…