Wednesday, March 26, 2014

The village idiot of Las Vegas hears about a tale from the barrio.

I looked at myself naked in the mirror the other day and I came to a sad conclusion. I suffer from the 'dickey doo's.' What's the dickey doo's you ask? It's when your belly sticks out farther than your dickey doo. Anyways, I decided to venture back into the barrio I used to live in and see if I could strike up a few games of handball - it's a good cardio workout- I jump off the bus at Cashman park and the first person I see is my friend Mario. I often refer to him as 'Mario from the barrio.' Nicknaming people, so I remember their names, is a trick I learned a long time ago at a Dale Carnegie course I attended

"Mario, what the hell is going on?" His crew and him were standing around the handball courts drinking 40's and gambling on matches. At first he didn't recognize me, and then it dawned on him who I was. "Wedo, goddamn boy. Where the hell have you been?" (Wedo is a derogatory slang word used by Mexicans to describe Anglo-Saxon males). I told him I was off the streets and living in an apartment around Jones and Flamingo. He then tells me that he has the court next and I will be his doubles partner. After a few matches I was spent. "Goddamn wedo, you need to lose that belly you're carrying around. Your handball game ain't worth a shit." It's hard to argue with a guy when he's telling the truth. He then grabs a couple 40's from his cooler and hands one to me. I thank him for his hospitality and then ask him this, "Mario, it has been a long time since I have been back to the barrio. Have you shot anyone or better yet has anyone shot at you?"

Mario runs a small time crew based mostly around the park. From what he told me, a few years back, his crew and him were run out of Los Angeles, 'Too many fucking vatos in Los Angeles' is how he puts it. Anyways, he decided to set up shop in Las Vegas and from what I gather, if he's not in jail, he does a prosperous amount of business. When I asked him about shooting someone or someone shooting at him, he told me this. "Naw, wedo - the streets have been quiet lately -even though some of the homeys might see a white boy like you and decide they want to take a little bit of target practice." I told him that wasn't funny. He laughed and said, "Wedo, chill out, I am only kidding. I did see something the other night that scared the shit out of me."

When I lived in the barrio - Mario always had a story to share - I told him I wanted to hear it, he told me this. "The other night my homie and me were at Fattie's watching the games, playing the machines and drinking some beers. It was just him and I and a vato and his chiqitia. They were sitting on the other side of the bar. Well, I look up and this puto walks in. I had seen this guy before. He was MS-13. They ain't supposed to be in that neck of the woods. Anyways, he walks up behind this vato and his chiqitia, pulls a gun out from his waistband and starts pistol whipping the vato. It was loco, he was saying in Spanish, 'You talk shit on me I will fucking kill you.' He had the vato on the ground and blood was everywhere. The chiqitia jumped on his back and he threw her off. She got up and he decked her with one punch. She went flying over a table. After that, he looked down at the vato and said 'You've been warned motherfucker!' He then looked at me and my homie and asked us if we had a problem. 'I told him no. As far as I care, you can shoot both of them and it won't make a shit to me.' After that he left."

I asked Mario what happened after he left. Did anyone call the police? He told me this - "Wedo, this ain't suburbia. This is the barrio! If you call the police on MS-13 in this neighborhood. You might as well sign your own death certificate. The bartender gave this guy a bunch of towels and some ice and told his chiquitia to drive him to the hospital. He then threw both of them out." I took a big swig from my 40 and then I asked him if he knew anything else about it, he told me this. "A couple days later I found out that the puto that pistol whipped the vato was his brother. He had heard through the grapevine that he was talking shit and obviously didn't appreciate it. How do you white people say it? Things get handled internally in the barrio." After he was completely through with the story I took another big swig of my 40 and then said this to him. "I bet their next family reunion is going to be a bit awkward." Mario looks at me with a smile and a half chuckle and says, "Wedo, you're so fucking funny."

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