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The perrada imposes

Órale, raza. This is the last episode dedicated to the pinche heavy onda of modern civilized convention regarding the household toilet seat: up or dow—or up. And the word featured word this week is perrada. In modern Spanish is means, pack of or a group of more and one rushing dog. In Caló it means a mobilized pack of beasts, dogs, people and otherwise. When they’re perreando, the individuals that make up the perrada are participating in a mob action. They’re blindly following the lead of the individual in front of them, leading the whole to do what none of its members would have tried on their own. It used to be used to call out a swarm of police, whether in cars or on foot, as in the arrival of a pack of sicced dogs. Today it refers to mob action in general, whether to party, fight or troll a discussion on the internet. What happened that you look all desmadrado, ese? Pos, the perrada came to my chante after bar hours and didn’t leave until sunup.

The New Year’s Eve party was rolling at Tita’s house. Midnight had long passed. The kids had been taken home or put to bed in Tita’s bedroom. As it was cold and windy outside, everybody packed into the crowded house. There was some dancing going on in the kitchen, where Tita kept her CD player. In the living room, there was story-telling—mostly violent and Homeric tales about the people of Los Montoyas.

“And when Genaro crossed the river, the perrada was waiting for him. He was met with a mile long front of police cars.

“Give yourself up, Genaro! You can’t escape.

“Then Genearo rushed them shooting in every direction. It surprised them so much that they let him reached the line, jumped over one of the patrol cars and suddenly insert himself in the middle of their lines…” a well-known story went.

Then suddenly the front door flew open and a perrada of former prison inmates, mostly Tita’s nephews, walked in.

“Close the door, mensos!” Tita yelled.

The door closed immediately.

“Thanks, mijo,” Tita said.

The biggest of one of the perrada nodded dutifully at Tita.

“Thanks, for letting us in, tia,” a tall barrel chested man said.

“Can I use the excusado?”

“Sure, mijo” Tita said.

“And make sure to put the seat down,” Chabelita broadcast.

The big man looked at Chabelita, then at his tia, and turned into the restroom.

“Don’t worry about it, esa,” Tita said to Chabelita.

“Why not? These babosos will make everything nasty,” Chabelita said.

“Cuz they’ve all been in the pinta,” Tita said.

“No seats at all there. Puro stainless steel. So they keep it all clean. Más clean que la fregada.”

She looked at the rest of the perrada that had just come in, and they all nodded.

“You leave it tinkled and a la madres,” one of the perrada said.

The big guy came out of the restroom and bowed toward Tita.

“Have some beer, mijo,” Tita said.

“Órale, go check out the escusado,” Tita said in Chabelita’s direction.

“Chale. Don’t need to,” Chabelita said.

This story was made possible by generous donations from supporters like you. Please consider showing your support with a contribution today. Donate here: marfapublicradio.org/donate

Oscar Rodriguez is the creator and host of Caló.