The Angry Hoochie: Enrique Fuentes Snaps Her Fingers! Now Run!

Little miss something I want to talk to you! Are you listening because right now I want to take you and spank you like you were Paulo throwing a fit at me for you know what again. You know who I am talking to: That little hoochie with the baseball bat. You know your hoochie name: it sounds like a little crazy town, only you need a make up tip from Ingrid BERGman to live it. Don’t you know this? Jajajaja! Were you at the Silver Fox, foxing it up with a hoochie Latin Lover? Well she wasn’t me and I would go so Rosie Perez on you that you would think you were a Puerto Rican grandchild, caught in the cookie jar AGAIN! Shout it! I saw you with your van and broken window. I think you threw your lover out into the cold. Run! Right now to me! She should run to me because I would hold her. Now Shout, because I was downtown last night and I saw this hoochie van driving around, cruising like some kind of Charles Bronson film. So 1970s and retro. The little van, stalking dark streets in downtown hoochieville. The baseball bat. The little 70s afros running this way and that and scattering and dropping hankies like Barbara Streisand was singing Funny Girl all over again. They were all crying. And I’m not. I stamp my feet and cha cha and I’m not your potato chip at all, I won’t crunch. And I am not salty to your taste. No, but I will tell you now that I will show it off. Run to me all you intimidated and oppressed. Go ahead. Mama will save you all!