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Archives: Big Happy Central American Family


And you thought RinkWorks was based in New Hampshire.

johnnyquest: Sam, where are you guys from?
Sam: I'm from Nicaragua.
johnnyquest: seriously
johnnyquest: better yet, where are you now?
Sam: El Salvador
Sam: I'm gradually working my way to the land of opportunity, America!
johnnyquest: rinkworks is based in el salvador?
Sam: No, my server is in Belize. Closer yet to those streets of gold!
Ria: Sam, quit the cover. We all know you're Brazilian.
johnnyquest: America: land of shrinking economy.
Sam: johnnyquest: Yeah, it's real tough when Americans have to downgrade from private jets to private helicopters. Trust me, America's economy is way better than what we get in El Salvador these days. I can barely afford medicinal treatments for the bacteria in our drinking water.
johnnyquest: You'd think twice if you saw my poor excuse for a helicopter. It's actually emabarrassing. It's so old it's diesel.
Mia: I thought you were from West Lebanon...
Sam: No, there's a guy with my name in West Lebanon, though. Unless K bumped the poor guy off.
Mia: Oh....that wasn't you....? Oops.
Sam: Ah HA.
Mia: Wait! I mean...erm....I mean....uh....
Mia has left.
johnnyquest: America is becoming the land of "Think." Once all manufacturing moves south of the border, watch out. Union pay and American "I think I'll do it later" attitude is going to catch up with us.
Sam: I don't appreciate your prejudiced attitudes against Central Americans. It's people like you that make it harder for people like me to seek a better life. But you'll not get me down! Someday, I will realize my dream of one day owning my own toilet paper.
johnnyquest: funny. I don't even know a Central American. Who am I to pass judgment on people I know nothing about?
Sam: You know me, you pompous American bigot.
Mia has entered.
Mia: How do you afford a computer and internet connection...?
Sam: Charity from the church.
Selah: Since you're in Central America, you know a lot of Spanish, right?
Sam: Oui oui.
Sam: I'm hoping that next week my green papers will go through, and I'll have a visa and a work card that will allow me to immigrate to Mexico, where I could get a part-time job, under supervision, doing sewage maintenance work. After I do that for six months, I'll be able to work full-time, as long as I can find a company to sponsor me and I remain a resident of Mexico for that time. Then I'll be that much closer to the good old U.S.A.!
Selah: Considering you're living in filth and degredation, your English is remarkably cultured. Do tell.
Sam: My mother was a nanny. All nannies speak great English.
Selah: Ah. Of course.
Sam: And my great aunt Louisa, God rest her soul, she made sure I learned culture. Pavoratti, ah, she was her favorite.
Selah: "she"??
Sam: ... Yes, Carmen Pavoratti. Luciano's father had eight girls and him, poor man.
Selah: I thought you meant Pavarotti.
Sam: Pavarotti. Hm. Yes, Pavarotti. Well, it's not my fault. My great grandmother Louisa, God rest her soul, she knew culture, but she didn't know English too well. That was my mother that taught me English. Nanny, you know.
Mia: I was a nanny once.
Ghost_of_Leen: Wait, Mia's Sam's mom? =-o
Mia: Um....
Mia: Well.....I wasn't going to say anything, but...if my little Sammy poo is okay with everyone knowing....
Sam: Momma Mia! Do not tell!
* Sam claps his hands over his mouth.
Sam: I told.
Sam: But I tell you before Momma, don't call me Sammy poo in public.
Mia: Okay, my little oops.
Selah: So you have Italian heritage now, too?
Sam: You think my great grandmother loved Carmen Pavarotti because she was Spanish?
Sam: I am one seventh Italian on my mother's side.
Selah: One seventh?
Sam: She was a big woman.
Mia: I'm Italian now??
Sam: No Momma, you're Spanish. Your mother's mother, she was Italian.
Sam: Ah, Momma, when we get to Mexico, Land of Opportunity To Get Into the Land of Opportunity, you and me, we have it good at last. I will buy morphine for your rheumatism, ok?
Selah: Sam! Your English is rapidly deteriorating...
Sam: Yeah, thinking about my great grandmother Louisa, God rest her soul, I start to talk like her. She was not so good with the English, you know. My mother, she taught me English. Nanny, you know.
Mia: Makes it stop hurting please.
Sam: Momma, you have not been carrying the heavy piles of sewage from the river to rebuild the walls of our house again, have you? I tell you before, I am a big strong man, I will build the house for you.
Mia: Nope, I'm letting your pa do that this time, even WITHOUT his legs.
Ellmyruh has entered.
Mia: I wasn't going to tell you this, son, but I'm afraid you are going on your own. What with the accident and all, we just can't leave him behind no more.
Sam: Poppa lost his legs! Momma Mia! Oh, I am so sorry to hear this. Last I heard, one was still dangling by a scab. This is terrible!
* Ellmyruh scrolls. Hmm.
Mia: Yes, dear son, and the gangrene looks like it is going to get the best of him, if that's even how you spell it.
Sam: It is, Momma. You were always good at English.
Mia: I try, son. I try.
Sam: When I get to U.S.A., land of opportunity, I will send for you.
Sam: I will write you every day.
* Mia gets teary eyed. "I know, son. I know we will be together someday."
Sam: If fortune favors, I will even send you fabled "Sweet Tarts" for you.
Selah: Ooh, Sweet Tarts!
Selah: FOOD
Sam: The rumors are true, then! These "Sweet Tarts" are food!? We don't get food in El Salvador. Oh, America, land of riches!
Ghost_of_Leen: My husband is a nutcase.
Sam: Now, Ellmyruh, she knows what I'm talking about. Ellmyruh, my poor grandmother, 89 years old from Honduras.
Ellmyruh: 86 to you, youngster.
Sam: Poor Grandmomma Ellmyruh, she could not make the trip to El Salvador with us, but I write her every day. Some day, Grandmomma, we will sent for you from the Land of Opportunity, where they have food.
Sam: Grandmomma, you would be proud of your daughter Mia. She sticks my Poppa every day. I know you never liked Poppa much, but you would be proud to see her today.
Ellmyruh: Sticks him with what?
Mia: Needles.
Sam: Oh, ha ha. Um, *by.
Mia: Oh, right. By him, too. I stick by him, too.
Sam: Yeah. But you would be proud, Grandmomma, because she sticks him every day, and I know you never liked Poppa.
Sam: She sticks him more now, because Poppa, he lost his legs, and can't dodge so well, poor man.
Mia: Er.
Mia: Son, can you tell me one thing? Who is your poppa??
Sam: Momma Mia! Oh, the Altzheimer's hits again? Oh, poor Momma, you forget Leefache again. Momma, how could you forget dear Poppa?
Mia: Thank you, son.
Sam: You must remember! You met this man at confession, and he ahcked your mother -- that's why she don't like Poppa so much -- and you married him and had me, your little Sammy po...uh, Sam.
Mia: Yes, Sammy poo, my little oops, I remember now.
Mia: Wait, I married a PRIEST?
Sam: I remember the old days, when I was a little boy, I used to run around the house, which didn't take very long, because we lived in an empty case of soda. We were the talk of the town, because Poppa bought the best place in the neighborhood, the kind with the plastic wrap roof glued to the cardboard walls. Ah yes, and four generations living in harmony together.
Mia: Son, how many times do I have to tell you? It's "POP" not "SODA."
Sam: My Momma Mia, my Poppa Leefache, my grandmother Ellmyruh, and my great-grandmother Louisa, God rest her soul, we all lived together and listened to Pavarotti somehow and my Momma taught me English. She was a nanny, you know. She raised the eleven boys next door.
* Ghost_of_Leen wonders where she fits in to all of this fiasco.
Mia: You're my son's wife. I thought that was clear.
Ghost_of_Leen: I'm not so sure.
Sam: Yes, my dear, you are my wife, and someday, I promise you, I will send for you in Costa Rica, and we will live together again in the Land of Opportunity, where there is food.
Ghost_of_Leen: What is this thing called food that you refer to?
Sam: I'm not sure, but I have heard of the fabled tales of "Sweet Tarts" all the way here in El Salvador. Most don't believe them, but I am a dreamer, as you always knew.
Ghost_of_Leen: oooo
Ellmyruh: I'm not going to ask who your grandfather is.
Sam: You forget Athaleon already? You kick him out and forget? Some day, Grandmomma, you will kick him out and forget the door is locked, and my poor Grandpoppa Athaleon sit out in the rain. No wonder my Momma gets the Altzheimer's so young.
Ellmyruh: ohmyword
Sam: My great-grandmother Louisa, God rest her soul, you know she never liked Grandpoppa.
Sam: But I know that she would be proud of you, wherever she is, God rest her soul. Because you kick him out of the house and forget him, probably, but she is proud of you.
Ellmyruh: I threatened him with a Taser.
Sam: Oh! I can't send for you too soon, I think.
Sam: Oh, excuse me please, I must go. The police have come to collect the taxes on the loans I took out to buy water and the medicines for the bacteria in the water.

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