Explanation of Fail

 (When I am rejected, I always wonder, is it the content? Could this be the answer?)

Dear John Jaramillo,

I’m afraid we cannot accept your story after all..  Our third guidline says, “English only.” 

 

I know some of Hemingway’s wonderful work contatins Spanish.  But this is a tiny venue with strict guidelines.  We cannot expect our readers or our evaluators to understand, “Oy, lo.  Muy chingon,” and “mujer!”

 

I offer you the opportunity to send another story, paid for by your payment of $15.00, or the return of your $15.00.  I’m sorry.

 

Sincerely,

Idore Anschell

 

 (Here it is if you were curious.)

 

Front Seat and Pinocchio

(word ct: 100)

That morning in the Chevy, I said, “You know that thing that makes people learn?”

            “Oy, lo. Muy chingon.”

“Know what I mean?”

“Brain?” she said.

“No! Conscience—”

“Jiminy Cricket. I saw it on tape.”

            “Jesus. I let you talk all night”

            “Finish!”

            “I’m just saying. I don’t have that.”

            “People don’t sleep in cars or what?”

            “No.”

            “Well, we’re here.”

“I’m older. I say they don’t.”

            She leaned up and revealed a blemish where her Jefe had taken a cigarette to her cheek. “If you ashamed, take me home—”

“Ah, mujer! Go back to sleep!”

 

 

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