Javier and the Cuetes

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When Javier was little, he liked to play with fireworks, cuetes they called them (cuete is Mexican slang for cohete, or rocket). That is, Javier liked to set off cuetes until la Navidad (Christmas) when he was fifteen years old.

That year his parents went out shopping for the big dinner to be held on la Buena Noche (Christmas Eve). Javier was alone at home. He decided he wanted to set off cuetes. Normally, you set off cuetes with your friends or brothers or cousins, but Javier was alone, and he wanted to set off cuetes. Just a couple. Sometime before, a few months at least, his sister had bought a package of cuetes from China, a package that contained 40 cuetes. The good ones from China, really strong. So Javier thought, I’ll just set off two of my sister’s cuetes. He found the cuetes and some matches and took them outside.

He took two cuetes out of the package, and tried to put the rest in his pocket.  His jeans that year were very tight, so he had really had to squeeze to get the 38 remaining cuetes in the left front pocket of his jeans. Then he held the matches in his left hand, lit them, and set off two cuetes with his right hand.

Then he tried to put away the matches in the same pocket as the cuetes. But his pants were so tight, the matches lit, and the cuetes  went off. All of them. In his pocket.  Boom boom boom boom boom (38 times)….  

When the explosions were finished, he was really scared, more scared than in pain. The explosions had cut a hole in his jeans, about the size of his pocket.

He was still alone. There was nobody home but him. So he took off his jeans, and looked at his leg. There was a big round spot, red, but no blister, no bleeding. So he put ointment on the spot, put on a different pair of jeans, and threw away the old pair.

When his parents returned, his father asked him:

–Whats wrong, Javier?

–Oh, nothing.

–You look really upset.

–Oh I’m just sad. Thinking about la Navidad.  Todas las Navidades. The past.

–But you look frightened.

–No, just sad.

His father sniffed the air.

–What’s that smell? Cuetes?

–Oh yeah. I set off a couple of cuetes.

His father accepted the explanation, and they went on with preparations for the dinner for la Navidad.

Little by little the wound healed, and a month later his leg was back to normal.

A few months later, his sister asked him if he had seen her cuetes, the packet from China.

–No, I haven’t seen them.

–Really?

–Yeah, I don’t know where they are.

–Well, said his sister, they were old cuetes. Probably no good any more.

And since the age of fifteen, Javier hasn’t liked cuetes. His friends would ask him to set some off, but he’d say no, no I don’t like them. And when he hears fireworks, his leg still hurts.

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