the pillsbury cholo

Hector wanted to look tough. With his hair slicked back, the bandana low on his forehead, the pressed chinos and the plaid shirt buttoned at the neck, he was the poster boy of cholo severity. But no matter how chingón he dressed, Hector had a face like the Pillsbury doughboy. Regardless of his mood, he was always smiling. To compensate for his cheerful countenance, Hector did everything he could to boost his cred and prove what a badass he really was. 

primo territory

From the zine, Junior Careers:

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the breaker beatdown

“Guess who I saw today?” Oscar said as he rummaged through my kitchen cupboards, checking each package of ramen for his favorite, shrimp. At first I thought it was an off-handed comment, but when he answered his own question with, “Your best friend, Eddie,” I nearly choked. Just the mention of Eddie’s name and my guts clenched up like a fist.

chump change

     Joey and I were hanging out at the Sav-On plaza, like we did most days that summer. I was sitting on the small firetruck that jerked back and forth, while Joey straddled the silver pony that bounced up and down. But the rides were idle. Even if we had been flush, a quarter was too precious to waste on a few minutes of mechanical jostling. Instead, we killed time watching the shoppers come and go.