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THAT’S BARRIO: Spelling Bee A$$ Whoopin’

May 3, 2010

When I was little I was getting my butt whooped in front of my house by my school’s Spelling Bee champion.

I went to run in the house…my father stopped me at the door, “Is that the Spelling Bee champion whoopin’ your a$$, mijo?”

“Yeah, dad.”

“Get back out there and fight like a man.  No son of mine gets his a$$ whooped by no Spelling Bee champion.”

He locked me out.

I confronted the Spelling Bee champion who still had his number on his chest.

“If you can spell one word out of two correctly, I won’t whoop your a$$,” he said.

“Really?  Okay.”

“Spell rhythm.”

“R-I-T-H-I-M.”

“Wrong!  It’s R-H-Y-T-H-M.  Spell P G & E.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.  Spell it.”

“P-G-&-E!” I shouted.

“Wrong!  It’s P-G A-N-D-E, you idiot!”

Even my father chuckled at that one.

“Is there anything you do know how to spell?”

“I can spell blood.

“I seriously doubt that, but try, I wanna laugh before I kick your a$$ anyway.”

I called over the pi$$ed kid who came in second at the Spelling Bee competition, “Hey, man, can you spell blood on that dude’s face.”

Second-place boy proceeded to whoop Spelling Bee champion’s a$$ and left his face a bloody mess.

Crying Spelling Bee champion, “He said spell it not spill it!”

Me, “Sorry, I misspelled it.

My father nodded in approval, “Mijo can fight.

Corona

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