I was almost beaten up by a bunch of 13 year old kids today.
No soy the pugilist I once was, but I’m pretty certain that if one 13 year old tried to fight me, that I could hold him down by his shoes with wheels. However, when there are 6 shoes with wheels, that can be a bit of a problem.
“What the fuck are you looking at nigga’?”
Ay Dios… I looked up from my paper to see who was unfortunate enough to have these words thrown at them. Then I realized that the angry eyes which belonged to the young, angry voice was being directed at me.
“That’s right nigga’. I’m talkin’ to you!”
Ay Dios… I bit my lower lip to take in the situation. There I was, a gorgeous Guatemalan, who up until that point was having a pretty good day. Then, I find myself getting surrounded by half a dozen kids in oversized winter coats.
A couple of scenarios flashed through my mind and one of them involved me breaking into a Latino Jackie Chan segment with Chris Tucker in the back of the bus yelling nonsense. Another involved me waking up in the hospital with my face beaten to a pulp and mi madre praying her rosary beads. My face… Mi beautiful Guatemalan face…
Should I rely on my wit in situations like this? Maybe I could make these caballeros laugh at my Latino observations.
“Answer me motha’ fucka’!”
Perhaps I could find a better time to make someone smile. These kids were just in the mood to fight.
“He don’t understand what you sayin’ Arnie.”
Arnie… This kid’s name is
“What’s the matter bitch? All you understand is tacos and burritos?”
Yo quiero Taco Bell.
I realized the words coming out of my mouth and wanted them to go right back in. Get back in!!! What the hell was that? Yo quiero Taco Bell? That was the best that I could do when I’m about to get jumped by a couple of teenagers in black marshmallow jackets. Why Diós? Why now? Why must I do my impression of the Mexican Chihuahua, why?
Then, it happened. I saw it start in the back and filter through the group. I even heard an old woman (who should have had my back in the first place) try to contain a chuckle. Then the kid with the angry mouth cocked his head, pressed his lips together and winced his eyes in a playful fashion.
Playful fashion. This is a good thing, yes?
“Yeah money. I want some Taco Bell too. We’re getting off here!”
And so, it was. They left.
Pobre Arnold. Going through life angry that his parents named him Arnold. Don’t be angry
Now I just need new underpants.