You're back in Spanish 1, excelling quietly at the back of the class. You get A's on all of your written papers, but never really figured out how to channel a Spanish accent instead of a Brazilian one à la Daniela Mercury. When you learn the verb "beber", all you can think of is Brugal. Appleton, Cockspur, and Mount Gay combined could not stand up to the force which is Brugal. You know, if you can stand Brugal at all.  

Dance shorty dance (Brugal)! Whoa look at those little hips moving (Brugal)! That bruise on your hip from hitting into the stove (Brugal). What are you trying to do, merengue and dancehall at the same time (Brugal)?  

That Brugal had you nice. So nice that you had to be carried into bed, coerced into staying in it, undressed and put back into a tall tee that probably spent some time in the laundry basket unwashed, and then woke up the next morning with unfamiliar surroundings, clothing, and a pounding in your head. 

Never touch that stuff again. 

(Unless they mix it in a nutcracker and you forget to ask them what kind of liquor they use.)

The hilarious Tyece (who's behind Twenties Unscripted) posted this awesome entry to the challenge. Tashay also has one that I really like, probably because it reminds me so much of mine.

Labels: august writing challenge, writing