Chicano Frankenstein by Daniel A. Olivas

Author:Daniel A. Olivas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Forest Avenue Press

Chapter Fourteen

AFTER THE BRUNCH, FAUSTINA sent the man on his way because she needed to prepare for a deposition in San Francisco the next day. It would be a one-day trip, no more. The man kissed Faustina and wished her luck. When he got back to his apartment, he walked straight to his study. He turned on the desk lamp and opened the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet. The man pulled out the battered cardboard box, placed it on his desk, lifted its lid, took out the children’s picture book, and sat in his desk chair. He removed the business card that was clipped to the book’s cover, laid it carefully to one side of the desk, and tapped it three times. The man opened the book. He smiled, sighed, and read the title aloud: “The Story of Fernando.” He turned to the first page and started to read the picture book to himself:

This is the story of how Fernando became my very best friend. He possesses every quality one could ask for in a friend. He knows his manners, he speaks many languages—like Spanish and English—and he could only be described as most handsome. Fernando’s hair is shiny, like a moist winter night, and his eyes sparkle with great intelligence and wit.

Fernando has only one drawback. When Fernando gets caught in the rain he, well, how can I put this delicately? When he gets wet, Fernando stinks. Not just a little stink. But a big stink.

Why, do you ask, does he stink when he gets wet? Well, that’s a really good question. You see, Fernando is a furry animal. From the very first day he was born in the hills of the San Fernando Valley, he was a member of the weasel family. Specifically, Fernando is a ferret. In Spanish, un hurón.

Some of you might be wriggling up your noses and shaking your heads now that you know that Fernando is a ferret. And some of you may also know that it is illegal to own a ferret as a pet in California (and Hawaii, too, for that matter). Granted, ferrets don’t have the kind of reputation enjoyed by cute puppies and cuddly kittens. But they are beautiful creatures. Most ferrets have lustrous cream-colored coats with dark tips on their feet and tails and a dusky mask of fur around their eyes. But none of this is really important, because I can’t own pets. You see, I’m an insect known as a beetle. My name is Betty. Glad to make your acquaintance.

My story begins a year before I actually met Fernando. That’s when Fernando was born in the hills of the San Fernando Valley, in that large city known as Los Angeles, in the state of California. The night Fernando came into this world could only be described as warm and treacherous because of the hot winds that blew hard and relentlessly that night. Scientists call them the Santa Ana winds, but a lot of people simplify by calling them santanas.

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