Some people say I talk too much but they’re the one’s saying all that shit. I don’t talk near as much as Wes. He’s always going on about his fucking job and how he hates his co-workers (not to mention that he’s a racist). I’ll give him credit though, he’s an equal opportunity racist. He calls black guys “brother,” anyone who’s Hispanic “Mexican,” and Iraqi’s “Obama.” Not “Osama” but “Obama.” He likes to mix racial slurs even when they don’t really make sense. But that’s okay, I know how to get under his skin. All I have to do is call him “Fidel” because he kind of looks like a young Fidel Castro when he grows his beard out and wears that ridiculous green, military-style hat.
I’m pretty sure his mom slept with a Middle-Eastern guy somewhere along the way, maybe even two. He thinks that every Middle-Eastern guy is an, “al-Qaeda loving, cock-sucking, plane-crashing son of a bitch.” It’s funny though, he never makes fun of the women. I think he wants to bang the women but when I tease him about it he says, “Fuck you man, I’m not into that shit.” No mention of their more-than-normal body hair. No comments about the hoods on their heads. No talk of terrorism or how Obama is their God. Yeah, I’m pretty sure Wes loves him some dark women.
I don’t have a problem with any other race. You can be Chinese, Japanese, or any other “nese” and it’s fine with me. One of my best friends is Black. I think the girl from Deal or No Deal, number 25 with the afro, is absolutely gorgeous. I like diversity. It’s Wes who is the racist. I remember one time he was talking to this girl, back when we were in high school, and I’ll never forget the look on his stupid face.
“Yeah, my family is really religious,” said Sarah. “My dad makes us go to church all the time.”
“That’s cool,” said Wes. “Where do you guys go?”
“St. Mary’s Cathedral, down off of Ash, by the Boys & Girls Club.”
“How did you become a Catholic?” said Wes, laughing with a powerful smile that would have made Martin Luther pound his hammer even harder. “Are you guys Mexican or something?”
Sarah was a beautiful girl. She had long, dark hair and deep brown eyes. Her teeth were white and her smile was as bright as a nearly full moon. Now, I’m not a racist but I could tell by her arms that she was probably Hispanic or Latina or from Spain or something. She kind of looked like she had some Spanish blood in her. She had thick, luscious eyebrows and was only 5’ 1.” I watched her as Wes laughed like the inbred racist he is. I actually thought she was going to cry.
“I’m from here you asshole,” Sarah said, touching her forehead with one hand and getting her backpack on with the other. “My parents were born in Venezuela. They came here before I was born. So yes, I guess I’m Mexican.”
You should have seen his dumb-ass face. At first, I wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed for having insulted the beautiful Sarah or if he was sick because he had hit on a Mexican girl. “Uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Wes said as he tried to collect himself and get out of there as soon as he possibly could. “It’s just, you don’t look Mexican…”
“I’m not Mexican you jerk. I’m American and my parents are Venezuelan.”
“But you said you were Mexican,” Wes tried to respond but just as he finished the word “Mexican,” Sarah slapped him so hard that he let out a little cry. There was a handprint across his left cheek and he walked as fast as he could out of the cafeteria while everyone turned and looked, as quiet as if they had just witnessed a car accident. Fidel Castro left the room and Sarah sat back down in her seat, composing herself and fixing her hair a bit. I sat across the table from her, unsure of what to do next. I had all these different thoughts running through my mind of what to say and that maybe this was my chance to make a move on the pretty girl.
“I don’t think you look Mexican,” I said, immediately regretting opening my mouth. “I mean, you don’t look like, well, I mean you look norm… You look like you.” Goddammit. I should have left with Wes. Now, she’s going to think I’m a racist too.
“It’s okay,” Sarah said, “I know what you mean. I just hate it when people think I’m Mexican and I’m not. If I were Mexican, I wouldn’t care. I’d be proud of who I was. You know what I’m saying?” Damn, she’s smart too. All I could think of now was saying the right thing. I just had to be better than Wes, that couldn’t be too difficult. I smiled just a sly little smirk and said, “I understand. I always tease Wes because he kind of looks like Fidel Castro and he hates it. I wouldn’t want people thinking I was Mexican or something when I’m not.” There are times in my life where I wished I could take back something I’d said or had another chance to make a better decision. At that moment, I felt like I’d just said something to upset the pretty girl. Wes was the one who had a problem with the Blacks and the Indians and of course the Mexicans. I like everybody, I mean, Sarah looked Mexican and I thought she was gorgeous.
Sarah stared at me with her flowing eyes and didn’t say a word. It almost felt like that moment your mom is upset at you and she doesn’t have to say anything, she just looks at you and you know. God she was gorgeous. She slowly stood up, didn’t say a word, and glancing at me with a bit of compassion, she walked out through the doors and left the cafeteria. I sat at the table, by myself, looking at the people talking and laughing. I’m sure they were laughing at Wes and talking about him getting slapped by a girl. They were probably talking about his hat that made him look like “Fidel.” I stood up and turned around, thinking about what I should do next. I walked out of the cafeteria and down the hallway, towards Sarah’s locker. I saw her down the hall putting something into her locker and looking into her bag. I walked down towards her and stopped just in front of where she stood.
“Hey,” I said, clever as usual, “I’m sorry if I said anything to offend you. It’s just that I like you and didn’t want to say the wrong thing. I’m really not a racist- really, I swear.” She looked at me and just as sweet as could be she said, “Thank you, but I don’t date White guys.”
5 thoughts on “My Best Friend is Fidel Castro”
Great idea. Great story. I’m not sure what reaction you were looking for, but I let out a solid chuckle upon reading the last line. There’s some thought provoking stuff, but I see some comedy as well.
Thanks 🙂 Definitely shooting for a message of equality mixed with irony.
The quips, irony, and creativity that are displayed in this wonderful short story had me smiling from ear to ear, start to finish. Mr. Baer, you’re a helluva writer to say the least, and my favorite writer to say the most.