Junior by then was looking into how cute the girls were in his class. I would always catch him and his dorky friends talking "smack" about how pretty they were or how they had "big boobies" to me, it was "like my dumb-ass bro and his dorky friends" talking trash, which they were.
It was during this period where my dad decided to buy a goat; Yes, a goat! Not sure what excuse he gave my mother, but she allowed him to bring it home. My dad got Junior and one of his many "compadres" to help out. You knew when we had projects like this, a cookout was to take place that evening. The cookouts my dad made were "Fregones," meaning, they were the "bomb." Dad always made sure there was more than enough food, "carne asada" on the grill with "Chile Jalapenos wrapped in bacon." Of course, there were always, "Unas Coronitas bien heladas" meaning, some ice-cold mini Coronas.
Yum, just thinking about these evenings makes my mouth water. But these were not only on special occasions they were also, just excuses so my dad could bring over his "compas" meaning his close buddies. Once they got to planning what they were going to do, there was no stopping until the project was complete.
By the end of that evening, the goat had a brand-new goat pen, a chicken-wired house that looked like a "bad-ass condo" with a 180 view. Taking care of the goat was part of Junior's chores. My mom had a list that he had to follow daily, sweep the pen, throw out the old water and put clean water in, and make sure he was safe from and anything that might harm him.
The instructions were easy, but like always, Junior would always begin to slack off. After a while, the goat's pen was stinky and full of goat "poop." Even approaching it, you could smell how bad it was. Junior was fired, and my dad was super disappointed in him. Sadly, after that incident, you could see that Junior began to smell like the goat, "stinky, and cumin smelling."
Juniors "Eau de Parfum" was back and, unfortunately, stronger than before. After this, Junior approached my dad, asking for a second chance. My dad was a "softy" when it came to us kids, It was no different with Junior. So, my dad made him a deal, "tu me ayudas con construir algo para la chiva, y yo te ayudo con lo que quieras." This meant, "you help me to build something for the goat, and I'll help you with whatever you want."
After this so-called agreement amongst both of them, they began building things together, chicken coops, compost bins, and guess what, another goat pen, this time, much bigger.
Looking towards my father's "compas" coming over, we began to prepare for that evening. "No se les olviden las micheladas!" my dad would yell towards the house, making sure someone heard him. Of course, my mother had all the essentials necessary to create "una fiesta rica." This meant, my mother had engraved in her head the essentials to a successful cookout.
"Otra Vez" meaning one of my dad's "compadres," would yell "Si!", "One more time, porfis!" meaning "one more time, please!" They began "con las cumbias tocando" meaning with "Mexican cumbias playing," and it made for an uplifting environment. It also made the time go by that much faster.
My dad had a bad habit of yelling when he was trying to convey something. Being that Junior was born a Hispanic with well-versed parents, you'd think he'd know a lot of Spanish. However, this was not the case, Junior might've had a Spanish last name, but he spoke "Spanglish." In fact, Junior and I were the only ones that talked like this, this at times made it difficult for both of our parents to understand us.
My father began to yell for some type of tool in Spanish. Junior "trae me la chiva!" meaning, "bring me the goat!" Junior would give my dad a face of bewilderment "que apa?" Junior would respond by saying, "what dad?" My dad would yell, "que me traigas la chiva!" meaning, "I am telling you to bring me the goat!"
By this time, Junior understood my dad's saying, "bring me the goat, bring me the goat," so my poor "dumb-ass" bro replied the few Mexican words he knew "aqui estoy, aqui estoy!" Junior replied to my dad, "here I am dad, here I am!"
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Silence hit the goat pen, everyone was "like, what did I just hear?" Yup, Junior just said," here I am." My dad's "compas" fell to the ground with laughter, "ha ha ha, el Junior." Little did Junior know that he had just assumed that my dad was looking for the "chiva" meaning "the goat."
But what my father was really looking for was a "Mexican tool called a chiva" he was never looking for my brother Junior. Poor Junior thought my dad was looking for the "chiva" because, before all this, Junior smelled like a stinky "goat," but in actuality all along, it was a tool.
Needless to say, after Junior's "Eau de parfum" phase my dad, never bought another goat. On the plus side, Junior made it a habit to bathe regularly and never smell like one either.
