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THAT’S BARRIO: Casa Sweet Casa

February 7, 2010

My tía called me over to look at her new paint job on her little house in the barrio.

I don’t know if it improved the house’s look but it sure made it look skinnier — black on a house ain’t cool.

My little fat cousin’s doll-house in the driveway looked wider.  Matter of fact, my little fat cousin in her first communion dress looked HECKA wider.

I think she’s been practicing eating the communion bread for the big day…A LOT…I MEAN A LOT.

I wanted to give the skinny house a fair shot so I moved to the street and asked the prostitute to please scoot over so I can get a direct look at the bony house from head-on.

The prostitute charged me 2 dollars for having her move into a new position.  I paid it, but trust me, I didn’t feel a thing.  So if you’re thinking of paying for it, don’t.

I was staring at the house when I took notice of all its bars…bars on the windows, bars on the doors, bars around the porch, bars on the gutters, bars on the chimney hole (only time I ever seen Santa pi$$ed), even had a guard fence guarding the guard fence around the front yard.  Metal coat hangers and ligas locked everything down tight.

It’s so fortified that when a judge asked a local gangbanger to choose between a life of comfort in my tía’s house or a life of hard labor in San Quentin, the gangbanger replied, “Gimme life in Quentin.  At least there I’ll have a chance to escape and a chance at a Christmas present.



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