What Robertico Told Me When I Went to Buy Dos Panes, Una Rasuradora y Seis Pesos de Salami

Congoses are so stupid. Here we are, all of us, wanting to leave this evil batey. I’m going to play baseball, God willing. I’ll get my break soon, and then I’ll be contracted. Cheyito is working in the zona and saving up money to build a house with his woman in San Pedro. The rest of my buddies are trying to be cops, except for Frede, who is stupid, just like his Haitian dad.

No, Frede made some girl’s belly swell, and now he drives a god-damn tractor. He says he wants to stay here with his family, the whole lot of the patois gurgling stupids. Which is pointless, shit! There’s no life living here. That’s why I’m going to make a break. They’re going to sign me, and then I’ll have some money.
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Never going to be senator

You know, you can’t make everyone happy. You can’t be everything to everyone. You’ve got to choose. One of the sacred myths of my people is that we live in a meritocracy, right? One way we express this myth is by telling our children that maybe one day, they’ll grow up to be President. We live in America, where anything can happen, right? If you just work hard enough at it, you can be anything you want.
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