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THAT’S BARRIO: Tia Spooky!

June 12, 2010

My pale, wrinkled tía asked me how old I thought she looked.

“At least ninety,” I said.

“Now way, mijo!  I’m fifty-two!”

“Damn, you look like you’ve been dead for twenty years.  You sure you ain’t a ghost?”

“Of course I’m not a ghost!”

“Oh yeah?  Then why do you look hella spooky in your bathing suit?”

“I do, mijo?”

“Hell yeah.  And why do you boo every time your favorite team loses?  If that ain’t ghost talk then I don’t know what is.  You gotta prove you’re not a ghost.”

“How?”

“If the Mailman and the UPS guy get scared of you, then you’re a ghost, if they don’t, then you’re not a ghost — deal?”

“Deal.”

The Mailman came to the door first, took one look at my tía, maced her and took off running…screaming.

“I think that’s a yes,” my tía said as she wiped the mace off her face.

“Not so fast, tía.  Maybe he thought you were a Rottweiler.  We won’t count that one.  It’s up to the UPS guy now.”

“Okay.”

The UPS guy came to the door, gave my tía her package and asked her for a glass of ice water.

“I’m sorry,” my tía said, “But our ice-maker isn’t working right now.”

“Sure it ain’t,” huffed the sweaty UPS guy, “I can see right through you, lady.”

I immediately hopped in the UPS truck and was delivered far far away from my tía the ghost.

Corona

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