Chicanos For Love – Part 2

"I'm causing you pain? I feel like I was hit by something big and slapped by something bigger."

By Tommy Villalobos, Contributing Editor
Published on LatinoLA: September 15, 2016

Chicanos For Love – Part 2

Read "Chicanos For Love Part 1

"We killed him," said Glenda, one hand to breast, the other covering her mouth.

In fact, all evidence led to such a conclusion as the bato wasn't stirring.

"Should we run?" said Glenda, one foot pointing to the exit.

"No, silly," said Ramona. "He has many tacos in his future. I see one foot moving."

Glenda, in panic, turned him over. They both shrieked. It was not any fine-looking manager, but a moaning toothy boy of about fourteen, maybe fifteen, maybe even sixteen with a galaxy of pimples from forehead to chin.

"What's the matter with you?" said Glenda.

"Why are you asking him that?" said Ramona.

"For one, he's not who he is supposed to be. For two, he scared me, not moving for that short while. I already felt I was in a cold, dark cell at Corona thinking what might have been."

The youngster moaned louder as if fighting off the angel of death.

"Wake up!" demanded Ramona. "We were only joking. No reason to die over a joke."

"He's disagreeing with you, Ramona," said Glenda. "He is not moving again."

Ramona's inclination was to give him one good patada but thought better since he might be related to Claudio, the cherished object causing her present frustration. She shook him. She pleaded. She rubbed his back. She then slapped him on the side of the head.

"Ouch!" said the boy now in full compliance.

"You better say 'Ouch!' since you're causing us much pain."

"I'm causing you pain? I feel like I was hit by something big and slapped by something bigger."

"Why were you passing by? We thought you were the manager and owner of this lugar?"

"No, I'm his younger brother. I do the cleaning around here."

"Can you introduce us?" said Glenda.


Ramona and Glenda searched each other's blank faces for an answer, found none, and turned their heads back down to Torandado The Younger.

"We're cooks," said Ramona.

"What kind of cooks?" said Glenda.

"Yeah," seconded the Younger.

"Tacos, of course."

"My brother has half the family in his kitchen," said the younger brother, still in a prostrate position, his head now resting on a hand propped up by one elbow as if the three were chilling on a grassy knoll at Griffith Park. "My Tía Lola manages taco production, my prima Louisa does the buying, my Tío Rufino does the actual cooking of the various ingredients, and an ever-changing crew of primos, primas, two abuelitas and a grand Tío put the tacos together."

"Oh," said Ramona.

"Um," said Glenda.

"Ouch!" repeated the lounging Felipe as he felt another slap come from behind and to the opposite side of his head from which Ramona had landed hers.

To be continued…

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