‘La familia tiene un’ weenie roast
Even though it was only June, el día había sido muy caliente! It was much too hot para cocinear esa tarde; just the thought of turning on the stove made Grama Cuca sweat. She didn’t want to get anywhere near esa estufa y sudar pero she still needed to make algo para cenar that evening. Canutito was sitting cerca de la ventana trying to catch un vientecito fresco as he slid un ice cube por su frente. Suddenly, as he felt a gentle, cool breeze, he shouted, “I got it! ¿Por qué no salimos pa’fuera to have a picnic by the acequia? Un picnic would be más nice!”
Grampo looked up de la mesa where he was fanning himself con un abanico made from an old newspaper. “¡Ésa es una buena idea, m’hijo!” he exclaimed. Then he turned to Grama Cuca and he asked her: “¿Todavía tenemos aquel parquete de weenies that we bought en la tienda last month?”
“Sí, viejo,” Grama Cuca replied. “I think que todavía tengo esos weenies en el freezer; we can go roast them alla afuera.
Grampo got up de la mesa and went pa’l trastero to look por su navaja. He would need his pocket knife para cortar jaras. Canutito would then peel the willow branches; quitándoles el bark and grampo would sharpen their points. As soon as the sharp jaritas were ready, grama would bring the weenies para rostearlos.
Grampo Caralampio built una lumbrita; a regulation bonfire con unas piedras around it to keep it from spreading out. Canutito impaled los weenies en las jaritas and held them over the bonfire. Mientras que estaba rostizándolos, Canutito suddenly broke into uncontrollable laughter. Grama Cuca looked at him, un poco worried. “¿Qué pasa, m’hijo?” she asked him.
“I was thinking of a time, hace muchos años, cuando mi primito has eating un pedazo de pan. As he was chewing his bread, el tontito jumped de una tapia. He slipped from that garden wall and he fell en su boca. He started bleeding y su mamá saw todo ese pan sangriento and she thought that the bloody bread was his tongue and that he had bitten it off.”
“That is not funny, m’hijo!” grama scolded him.
“I agree, grama,” Canutito said laughing todavía. “The funny part was que while he was crying, he suddenly burst out laughing porque una día his brother had gone to the store pa’comprar some bologna, nomás que he could remember cómo se llamaba el choriz in English. Cuando el storekeeper asked him qué quería, he told him, ‘Give me one of those big, fat weenies!’ Y luego he started llorando otra vez. Estos weenies here tonight reminded me de esa historia.”
By that time, los weenies estaban bien roasted y el aire de la noche had begun to cool down. Grama brought out un plastic bag and handed it over to Canutito. He gazed at it y exclamó “Marshmallows! Vamos a hacer roast marshmallows!”
Canutito skewered su marshmallow en la jarita and held it en la lumbre. Pronto el olor de brunt bombones filled the evening air. Canutito blew on it and stuck it en su boca. Grama Cuca smiled as Canutito tasted su marshmallow en la jarita and exclaimed: “Es una cross entre marshmallow y weenie en en mismo bite!” …