And augh, gawd, we've been farting somethinga awful! It's the birria we's had for lunch, I's know it. Moco liked it, an' I's gotta admit, it was a'ight, even if I weren't really in the mood for it. But now our gut's strugglin'. Seriously, i's like some'in crawled up our ass an' died. I's almos' expect maggots to start crawlin' up outta our ass. We took a shit at work, an' it stank awful, o'course, but it didn' help much. Our gut calmed down for maybe half a minute b'fore it started gurglin' up again. Figures it's until now, that we be home that it's startin' to settle some.

Mom's voice comes from somewhere in the house: Hello!

The kids exstatically squeal: MEM!!!!!!! (It was mostly Jack.)

00:15 Where was we? Well, we's already went n' greeted 'Ama, n' how she be in the Blue Room, watchin' her novela. I's don' wanna go keep 'er company jus' yet, 'cause the girls'll dominate n' watch it too. Then they'll get all obsessed n' shit.

Mom's coughin' in there. Hope she's a'ight. Ugh. I's jus' farted again. My farts ain't usually that rancid. I's know it be the birria. We ain't ever had any b'fore, an' we's ain't never farted like this either.

Heh. This all reminds me of the ol' man. Moco looks over at me an' grins. He knows what I be talkin' 'bout. P'fas used ta always joke about shit like that. Farts n' takin' a crap, n' pissin' (toilet humor), he was always talkin' 'bout that shit. My's sister n' I've got so many Shit Stories 'bout my dad, we's could publish a whole volume of Uncle John's Bathroom Reader wit' it. Feels good ta see Moco smile, though. Kid hasn' really smiled much lately. Or even talked ta us. If he be smilin' at the memory of Dad, it means he finally be lettin' go a' the bad shit surroundin' his death, n' can now remember the fun shit wi'out goin' arou' blamin' himself. Gives me peace a' mind n' shit.