Totally Radical Sportz!

New Mexico – Episode 1.01

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 09/20/2010

Episode 1.01 – “The Mayflower”

(A Mayflower truck is rolling up the I-35 N through southern Texas. Veteran trucker Mickey Jones announces over the truck PA system..)

Jones: Ladies and gentlemen, hombres and…hombreistas: We have now crossed the border from Nuevo Laredo and have reached American soil. Next stop: San Antonio, Texas.

(A cheer goes up from the dozen Mexicans in the back of the truck..)

Guadalupe: (tugs at his father Domingo’s shirt sleeve)  Ya hear that, Pop? We’re in America!

Domingo: Yes. I heard, son. Home of the free and stuff. Now help me with this map.

(Domingo is unfolding a large map of the United States as the Lopezez Family sits in the middle of the truck. Maria – the eldest daughter – squints into a small vanity mirror, applying some lipstick procured from Sara, another passenger..)

Maria: Why don’t we just live in San Antonio? I don’t wanna sit in this smelly truck any longer than I have to.

Domingo: Nah, San Antonio is full of Mexicans. To the brim. You know that smell? Multiply it by about four hundred thousand.

Maria: That is so racist, dad.

Domingo: (frowns)  It’s not racist. I am Mexican! I can say whatever I want about us!

Nina: I’ve heard San Antonio is actually quite nice, dear.

Domingo: (shakes his head)  It’s so cliché. ‘Oh look, here come the illegal Mexican immigrants. I wonder where they’re headed. Oh, San Antonio. What a surprise!’

Nina: I thought we agreed not to talk about the…”illegal” thing.

Domingo: We’re in the back of a friggin’ Mayflower truck, babe. I think they’re gonna figure it out. Hey, kids. You’re illegal immigrants. Deal with it.

Guadalupe: (nods)  I’m cool with that.

Pinta: (holds up a brown Barbie doll)  Horsey!

Domingo: (stares at their three-year-old and mutters to his wife)  I’m beginning to think there’s something seriously wrong with that one.


(Domingo takes his ten-year-old son, Guadalupe, over to a quiet corner of the Mayflower truck as it rumbles down I-35 N..)

Domingo: Guadalupe, I want to speak with you about legacy.

Guadalupe: Legacy?

Domingo: Well, I’m not gonna be around forever and when I pass on I want you to have the wherewithal and knowhow to–

Guadalupe: (eyes welling up with tears)  You’re dying?!

Domingo: What? No. Don’t–don’t cry. No crying on the immigrant-smuggling truck. Everybody can see you. Nobody’s dying. It’s just, you’re my boy and I want you to carry on the Lopezez legacy when you become a man.

Guadalupe: What do I need to know?

Domingo: Well, first of all, never EVER under any circumstances are you to wear a sombrero. It’s stereotypical and really entirely inaccurate most of all.

Guadalupe: (nods)  Don’t wear sombreros. Got it.

Domingo: The same goes for maracas. Unless you’re on Spring Break and you’re really drunk and you’re trying to bang the slutty girl who’ll hook up with any and every ethnicity.

Guadalupe: What else?

Domingo: Let’s see, what else. No Taco Bell.

Guadalupe: Aw, but I like Taco Bell.

Domingo: I know. Me too. Cheesy Gordita Crunch. It’s amazing. But you just can’t do it, Guady. We can’t be seen in an establishment like that.

Guadalupe: (pouts, crosses his arms)  Fine.

Domingo: Maybe someday we’ll be fortunate enough for them to deliver, but until then.

Guadalupe: Any other awesome things I can’t do anymore?

Domingo: No tiny Nissan pickup trucks blaring loud Latin music. No sitting in the back of pickup trucks. Just steer clear of trucks altogether.

Guadalupe: We’re on a truck right now.

Domingo: Don’t be a smartass.

Guadalupe: What else.

Domingo: No landscaping jobs.

Guadalupe: That’s okay. I’m gonna be a video game developer.

Domingo: Yeesh. We’ll talk about that when you want to start having sex with girls.

Guadalupe: Gross.

Domingo: No hats or clothing of sports teams that are located nowhere near the town you’re in and that you have no affiliation with whatsoever.

Guadalupe: These all seem to be things that Mexicans do. What happened to ‘preserving the Lopezez legacy’?

Domingo: (shoves a finger in Guadalupe’s face) And if you ever have to go to a Home Depot for any reason, you do NOT loiter in that parking lot for a second.


(Late that evening, Mickey Jones pulls his Mayflower truck into the sprawling parking lot of a San Antonio truck stop, jumps off the rig, comes around to the back and unlocks the doors to let everybody out for a breath of fresh air. Guadalupe runs off with Sancho and Juanita’s son, Paco; while Domingo sits down on the back of the truck to enjoy a cheap Mexican cigar with Felipe, the elderly man from Oaxaca..)

Felipe: So, what are your plans here in America?

Domingo: (smiles up at at the stars, takes a drag off his cigar)  I’m gonna build robots.

Felipe: (chuckles, tunks some ashes off his stogie)

Domingo: No, I’m serious.

Felipe: Robots.

Domingo: Yeah, you know. ‘Beep, boop, beep. I am a robot. I will destroy you all.’ Except for that last part. My robots are gonna help people.

Felipe: Right.

Domingo: You don’t believe me, do you?

Felipe: Not particularly.

Domingo: Alright, old man. What are you gonna do?

Felipe: I’m gonna find me a nice place in the Carolinas. Open up a bait and tackle shop. While away my twilight years on a quiet river.

Domingo: That actually sounds kinda nice.

Felipe: So robots, huh?

Domingo: Yup. Helpful, friendly robots.

Felipe: Do you know anything about building robots?

Domingo: Yeah, I used to be an engineer back home.

Felipe: (finishes his cigar and throws the butt off the truck)  Well good luck with that, young man.

Domingo: Tell you what. You send me your address once you get settled and I’ll mail you one of the first prototypes. He can help you around the shop, man the register or something.

Felipe: Well, that would certainly bring in the tourists. You know where you’re headed yet?

Domingo: (beams, pulls out the giant map)  Yup, I figured it out. The perfect spot. The perfect place for the Lopezez Family to begin a new life together. Start anew.

Felipe: And where’s that?

(Domingo folds the map over and shows Felipe the upper right-hand portion, pointing to the northwest corner of the State of Maine. Felipe squints and sees, in tiny lettering, a small town by the name of…)

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