I was the Big Bang.  From nothing I came to illuminate the world with my majesty.  Chalé, those vatos didn’t have a clue. It was back in 1964 A-fucking-D in the unkind winterland of Lansing, Michigan.  First, in my jefíta’s womb; the blazing inferno that formed me, my body took on its earliest of many forms. At the zenith of this form, I glowed like a woman’s true love.  Chinga, I embodied it: Hot, too hot for any hombre to even touch. They poured my essence into a huge concrete tub cut to fit my next form. From there it seemed like I died; straight to Heaven and back again.  My heat slowly faded into oblivion, like it never existed. In this, amigos, my rebirth once again complete, they pulled me from my stone sarcophagus. They put me on this moving road with all these dudes I didn’t know standing on both sides.  Starting off slowly, the gringos, mojados and prietos added my skin. The one thing I did hate about myself, the skin these cabrónes chose for me; mint green. Chinga!


Y entonces, they put me back on the moving road.  From there, I truly came to life. They added my organs, the ingredients that would awaken me.  Sparks flying, they added my limbs, two arms, four feet, two eyes in the front, two in the back.  All in all, I looked good.  They call me 64 and any chica would swoon over me.  Y ya estúvo, I reached my perfect form. Shining like a distant planet I impressed the most fickle hombres.  Sleek and shear, I could take off like a bullet. I had the speed of a freight train, more beautiful than Rita Hayworth, the grace of a deer and a voice that came straight from the heart of the tierra.  I roared, amigos, without saying a word and yet, everyone heard me. From there, Hermanos, they sent me to a building where other vatos like me sat waiting. Waiting for what? No sé. Weeks passed with me sitting in the exact same spot.  I watched other compadres leave. And when they left, they cried out as if they had been freed from bondage. People came in, looked them over and left with them. My compadres had become their children. They belonged. My yearnings to belong also increased.  I wanted to have a familía. I imagined the care a familía would give to one of their híjos and it put lumps in my throat. I wanted to be loved, appreciated. Months passed and nothing happened. Y pues, one day I started to grow weary of my lonely existence. In walked a young kid, probably twenty years old, with his padres.  They looked at all of the other vatos first, then me. Soon, they had some kind of argument with a hombre. He walked into a room and came back with something in his hand. He gave it to them. Before I knew it, the kid crawled inside my body. He felt heavy and I never sensed anything like it before. He inserted la llave into one of my orifices y hijolé!  My eyes snapped open and I took my first breath! My heart hammered inside. I felt my entire body quivering with life. I believed I could fly! So, this is what being alive feels like. Me encanta! I thought. Freedom looming over the horizon, pride filled my heart. I belonged. I had a jefé y jefita?! They would care for me, perhaps even love me. As my feet felt their first sensation of hard asphalt, I cried out to tell Him that I was alright.



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