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THAT’S BARRIO: Don’t Try to Run Away if You’re Latino!

October 14, 2010

When I was little, I threatened to run away from home one time because my tough-love mother had disciplined me upside the head one-too-many times.

She instantly became that sweet, loving mother I used to dream of having…it scared the sh1t out of me!

She opened the door for me and smiled, “Quieres correr?  Andale, correle.”

I didn’t know what fvcking demon had suddenly possessed her and the overwhelming sweetness was terrifying, un-Latina mother-like, HORRIFIC!

Latino kids don’t get that type of sweetness until after they’re grown, after they’ve had their share of a$$ whoopins as kids.

That confused me so I thought twice about leaving, “Okay, but can I comb my hair first?”

She playfully messed up my hair more, “Your hair looks perfect, andale, go.”

I knew for sure she was possessed then.

“Thank you,” I said.

“De nada, mijito, cuidate,” she pinched my cheek, “I’m gonna miss you sooooooooo much.”

I snatched the cross off the wall, picked up the phone, ready to call a priest after that crazy talk.

“But what about my shirt?  It’s wrinkled.  You hate for me to go out in public in wrinkled clothes.”

She smiled, “Wrinkled is in the eye of the beholder.  You look wonderful.”

That’s when I knew at least ten demons were inside her little body.  But how could they all fit?

And then she held out some money towards me, “Toma, for that toy I could never buy you.”

I slammed the door shut, ready to fight the demons inside her, ready to save my mother.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“I’m not running away!  I gotta save you!”

She proceeded to whoop my a$$.

I got happy…she was saved…normal again.

Corona

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