Giannina Braschi - Yo-Yo Boing!

— And then Ian, with the gap between his teeth, said to me:

— Can you picture Homer banging Kinney in Madrid? Repulsive, isn’t it. I like to picture Kinney bent over the kitchen sink in flannel slippers. How do you like to picture it?

— I prefer not to —I said.

And then, Kinney brings me back a lesbo porn magazine. Joanie told me to report it to personnel — it’s sexual harassment.

— Kinney —I said— I’m not a lesbian.

— I didn’t say you were —he laughed— but you can’t deny you’re a raving feminist. Ian and I thought this magazine would help you find yourself.

— No, no thank you —I answered, and Joanie told me:

— File a grievance. I’ll testify I saw the magazine.

— But I don’t know, what can happen to you. You gave Russell my book and pasted a Playboy pinup inside.

— I was teasing my Russell. It’s not the same. Did I fire anybody with only two weeks’ pay, two weeks before Christmas? It is insane, inhumane, don’t you see? If the guy hates New York, why is he the head of the New York practice? Firing people with only two weeks’ pay while he spends five grand on a Christmas party after Mr. Madonna sent a memo to the entire staff saying there should be no Christmas party this year and then he spends the rest of what would be my compensation on Mont Blanc pens for all the clients, kiss-ass, but he wouldn’t even lend his secretary a Bic. I have a major problem with that. And when Kinney told me:

— Come to the Village with me and my boyfriend Homer. We would like you to be frank about your sexual preference. Why don’t you wear skirts to work?

— I wear them —I said— in the summer. And if you keep harassing me, I’ll sue you and the firm for sexual harassment.

Ian used to bellow from one hall to the other:

— Get me more coffee!

Is that a way to treat your secretary? Nothing is ever enough.

— And it should never be enough. If they can keep pulling bunnies out of your hat. There was a moment when you should have put your foot down.

— I tried to transfer to another unit, but they were scared I would squeal. I saw what they were doing with the drug addict.

— A double standard — treating you so bad while the coke-head was snorting nose-candy off the desk — dick privilege, coño , what an injustice.

— And you remember when they wanted to fire Joanie. They told me to testify that she distracts other secretaries by talking on the phone all day.

— No way —I said— she’s a typist. All she has to do is type. She can talk on the phone as long as there are no typos.

I am planning to tell La China:

— Keep trying to be white, they will always see you as yellow, and someday, they’ll fire you too, and you deserve it.

And Charlie, who said:

— What an unfortunate case! Why didn’t anyone tell me she was a perfect employee? I would have saved her job .

Why didn’t he check my personnel file himself? I have a problem with that. I told him:

— Promise me you will investigate their files. They have a long history of harassing women. I’m not the first.

— The firm takes your allegations very seriously. Promise to come to the office tomorrow and put them in writing.

They raped my spirit. How will I put that in writing? I’d like to rip my blouse wide open and scream:

— I’m a woman! Sexual harassment!

— And that’s precisely what I love about Mishy. I mean, during the LA race riots, before the looting and the shooting had even stopped, when everything was hot and sticky in New York, she jumped right into a subway mugging and defended an old Mexican from four black guys.

— Give us everything you got, or else we’ll turn you in to La Imigra. We know you don’t have papers.

While they were taking his mickeycharras, Mishy, Don Quixote de la Mishy, went over to the black guys and said:

— Why don’t you steal from the rich? Exploiting someone poorer than you. You know what you are.

— You, fucking bitch, shut up, or I’ll slit your throat.

— Coward! Why are you stealing from this man who is more fucked over than you? Go to Saks Fifth Avenue.

— You shut up.

— You shut up. What’s he done to you? He is just trying to earn his daily bread.

— You racist bitch.

— You fascist bastard.

— Fuck you, maaaan.

— Fuck you.

— Don’t point at me.

— Fuck you, man. Fuck, and now I’m really fucking mad, you better fucking move your fucking ass.

— Fuck you.

— Fuck, fuck you.

— Fuck, fuck you.

— Fuck you — you hear me, I said, fuck youuuuu. I mean you, fuck. Fuck you, maaaan.

— Did they smack her?

— No, they jumped the turnstile with the old man’s goods.

— I’m gonna say it happened to me but I didn’t let them walk off with the goods. Mishy’s ending is rather dismal.

— If you want to tell Makiko that’s fine, but it’s mine at Suzana’s tonight. You weren’t there. I took the thugs on myself.

— It’s funnier if you say I was there looking invisible. Five guys against one woman and her cowardly mate.

— Is it true ? — they’ll say. I’ll look sheepish.

— I couldn’t believe it myself and I was there.

— Isn’t that something?

— Then I’ll laugh:

— What?

— Did you really say that?

— I would have liked to.

— But did you?

— They’ll think you are a danger to society.

— I was just teaching them a lesson.

— You’re encouraging them to steal so long as they’re not stealing from the poor, but look whom you’re stealing from.

— From Mishy. And Mishy is teaching them whom to steal from. I want to play the hero tonight.

— When you’re really a cheater. You’re a riot.

— Maybe it’s true, a riot, yes, a riot, not bad, next time, a riot, I’ll say I started a riot. I’m a bullshitter.

— Oh fuck, look who is here, Mishy. Did you know she was coming tonight?

— I’m very glad to have met you. We can continue talking later.

— You’re leaving me hanging.

— Later. We can talk later. I have to go. My translator. The poetry reading. I’m nervous.

— What happened to the black guys?

— What black guys?

— Spike Lee. We were talking about Malcolm X.

— Like I wouldn’t notice she stole my story. And turning red like that. After making me repeat it more than three times on the phone. Freakin’ Rican still gets it wrong.

— Tonight we are going to have an enchanting evening. We will hear Darsha sing two arias from La Bohème , Acts III and IV. The Grunschlag sisters will accompany her on the piano. Then, we’ll have some poetry.

— I hope she is not planning on reading half of her book again.

— I was thinking more along the lines of a sonnet or two before dinner.

— Suzana, you cannot mix opera and salsa. I cannot sing in an atmosphere where hips are swinging. And now with this cat. I’m allergic to cats. Red welts will spread over my face, and I’ll start sniffing.

— It’s not a cat, it’s a rabbit. I have her on a leash. I love animals. I don’t have work right now. I need a job badly. My parents will stop sending me money from Japan. The last $200 they sent me, I saw this rabbit, and bought it on impulse. I’m such a pendeja with money. When I see something I like I buy it. So I’m always broke.