Come in! Get your pancreatic Fud juices! What can I get for you, güero? Enzymes,
bacteria? Cold cut meat, instant chorizo, Bimbo Vitamins, Jumbo ham?
Mmm, let me have the ones that fill you up quicker, I haven’t had a chance to eat, and it
will be a long time till I get another.



I don’t like this eye thing, it’s just a fucking laser and open sesame, I need to pay, just look
in here, piss and fuckin’ look here. My father once told me that his grandpa told him that it
used to be little fuckin’ cards with numbers. I don’t want to work at Zona Río anymore.

By Oliver Gasparri.
Translated, from the Spanish, by Bryan Constantino.


Oliver Gasparri  is a communicator, schoolwise. Quotidian composer, mobile photographer and analyst of the social being. He has participated in several literary challenges trying to swindle form before content.

Bryan Constantino attends UCSD and will obtain his degree in Mathematics this June. He lives in Barrio Logan and is working on his first Banda music composition. >iii=o