Family ‘va por’ calamities
Era el weekend y la familia estaba sitting around the kitchen table después de comer breakfast. Grampo Caralampio estaba reading through todo el junk mail que había venido inside del newspaper. Grama Cuca had put a pot of beans a cocinarse en la stovetop so that there would be frijoles para la cena. Canutito was watching her as she opened la tapadera de la olla and stirred in algo green con los frijoles.
He asked her, “Grama, ¿qué es esa cosa verde that you put into the beans?”
“It is an herb que se llama ‘epasote’, m’hijo,” Grama Cuca replied. “It grows allá en el garden con las other hierbas.”
“Does ‘el epasote’ make the beans hacer taste más better, grama?” Canutito asked her.
“No es tanto que es epasote hace a los frijoles tastier, m’hijo,” grama said. “What it does is to remove todo in the beans que hace bloat a la gente and gives us gas.”
“Cuando yo estaba chiquito,” grampo interrupted, as he put down su periódico, “nosotros teníamos un poem about los frijoles que we would say en la escuela. It went algo like this: ‘Beans, beans, pork ‘n beans; the more you eat, the more you fart; the more you fart the better you feel; por eso es un healthy meal’.”
“Don’t teach al niño esas cochinadas, viejo!” Grama Cuca scolded him.
Canutito just smiled por debajo por he thought que era a little funny.
Grampo Caralampio hizo try to change el subject. He said, “Aquí en el newspaper, it says que van a estar dando ‘calamaties’ por free allá en la casa de escuela.”
“They are not called ‘calamities’, viejo,” Grama Cuca corrected him. “Free food se llama ‘commodities’ en inglés.”
“Who is giving commodities fiados at the school house, grampo?” Canutito asked him. “I think que es el farewell, m’hijo,” grampo replied. “Se llama el ‘Welfare’; no el ‘farewell’, viejo,” Grama Cuca yelled at him. “And I think que we should go get some también.”
“Do you know cuántas personas are going por free calamities?” grampo shot back. “Va a estar tan crowded allá que it will look just like a meeting de un ganado vacuno con un ganado lanar.”
“Uh, grampo,” Canutito hesitated un poco, “¿qué es la diferencia between ‘un ganado vacuno y un ganado lanar’?”
“Un ganado vacuno es un herd of cows y un ganado lanar is a sheep flock porque wool is called ‘lana’ in Spanish, m’hijo,” Grampo Caralampio said, todo proud porque Grama Cuca hadn’t corrected him. “There will be un bunche de gente allí.”
“¿Qué clase de commodities do they give to the people, grampo?” Canutito asked.
“Well, m’hijo,” Grama Cuca began as she came back yse sentó at the table, “en los olden days cuando yo era niña, el Welfare Office would give a la gente pobre some really good things para comer. I remember que they would give us carne de jarro; that was the most tender canned meat que we had ever tasted especialmente porque we were poor y no teníamos animales para la carne. I remember que they would give us huge square blocks of butter que era bien creamy y que hacía taste como real butter; not como la mantequilla que is sold en la tienda today. Pero mi cosa favorita,” Grama Cuca remembered, “eran los big cans of fresh peanut butter cada mes. Every month we kids would look forward to esos jarros de crema de cacahuate and eat it con jelly de capulín.”
“Well, entonces why don’t we all jump en la troca and drive over a agarrar our share de los calamities?” grampo invited them.
“I think que esa es una great idea, grampo!” Canutito shouted, jumping pa’rriba. “I don’t think que I want to eat frijoles con ‘pasote’ esta noche. Let’s go, grama!”
Pero Grama Cuca was already running por la puerta haciéndose smack los lips.