don't drive like mi hermano | 2002-03-12 - 7:24 p.m.

By the time Alicia, Concha y yo hit the ground floor, Jes�s was starting to walk around un poco, experimentally flexing his limbs as if he was trying on his body por la primera vez. Several feet away, su carro, an ancient, rust-eaten Impala, sat steaming and lifeless, wedged into the corner of my apartment building like a lowbrow, backwards versi�n of the famoso Hard Rock Caf� Decorative Cadillac.

Jes�s must have heard our gasps of disbelief because he suddenly wheeled around. As soon as he was able to focus, he began staggering toward us like a life-sized marionette. Su cara was streaming with sangre. "I think I'm in shock," he said, su mano a la frente.

"That makes four of us," said Alicia.

"Shit, Chus," I said, looking at his pupils. I was a good three feet away, but I could clearly see my reflection in the shiny black pools of his ojos. "What the hell are you on? It's only ten fucking o'clock in the morning!"

Jes�s blinked. "I don't have to answer that," he said. "No eres mi abogada ... are you?"

Concha shook her head with disgust. "Castigada. We have to get the car out of here. Now. Before your landlord finds out." My eyes widened with astonishment. Nunca have I seen Concepci�n so ... business-like. "D�nde est�n las llaves?" to Jes�s. My brother starts giggling. "WHERE ARE THE FUCKING KEYS, SO MUY PENDEJO?"

Chus performed a half-hearted pantomime of trying to find las llaves in his pocket, but halfway through his act he apparently forgot what he was supposed to do and dropped his arms uselessly to his sides. Concha rolled her eyes for what must have been the und�cima vez that morning. "Oh, fuck me," she said, looking away with una mirada de puro odio as she fished the keys out from the front of his tight leather pantalones. "You pathetic loser," she spat over her shoulder at Chus as she strode to the carro. "Shithead. I won't forget this."

Gracias a la sant�sima virgen, el carro started the tercera vez Concha turned the key, and with just a little gas, Concha was miraculously able to back it out, raising a thick cloud of asbestos as the hood freed itself from the stucco jaws of the building. "Woo hoo!" we all cheered. Concha was just about to throw the Impala into drive and head back for la calle when my landlord, ese hijo de puta, emerged from nowhere.

I saw, rather than heard, his mouth form the words. "What the ....?"

pride and prejudice - 2004-09-07
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like 9-11 all over again - 2004-06-20
enough said - 2003-02-05
tirar por la calle de en medio - 2003-01-28

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