I come home to find Miguel sprawled out on my couch, beer in hand, empty yogurt cups on the floor, one boot on and the other on top of an old bookshelf.
Cabron, your boot is on my bookshelf.
“Si. I took it off when I was over there. Here, give it here. I need it for later.”
I stand there with my hand on his work boot trying to decide if I’m going to throw it at his face or actually hand it to him. I hand it to him. Why? I have no idea. I’m left thinking what a boot to the face would do to my friend and his habit of eating all of my yogurt.
“Do you like my shirt? I found it. It is by far the best shirt ever made in the history of man.”
Your nephew calls me daddy
That’s pretty funny. You found that?
“No. I had it made. I thought of it while I was sleeping and I had it made. I had one made for you too. I put it inside your cupboard.”
Oh, that’s a good place to put a shirt. Gracias though.
I walk over to my cupboard and sitting in between a couple of my glasses is a gray t-shirt with the words “Your Nephew Calls me Daddy” sitting above a drawing of a child with a blanket.
You really want to walk around with a shirt that basically tells people that you slept with and impregnated their sister?
“Si. It’s brilliant. I, mi amigo, am a genius.”
Why don’t you just get a shirt made that says “I fucked your sister”?
“Porque? Why? I’ll tell you why El Guapo. And that is basically the basic difference between the two of us. I have a thinking man’s humor. I'm a thinker. I like to say things that makes the world reflect, while you just want to come out and say words like ‘fuck’. My shirt says that I got your sister pregnant, but in a way that is going to make the person realize it 10 minutes later. I’m making the world better by speaking and making shirts.”
Yeah. You're quite the philosopher. So you want everyone to know that you slept with their sister?
“Si. Because I probably did.”
That’s why I like you Miguel. You’re a true humanitarian.