“¿Ahora?”
“Now. Ahoritita.”
And they come—Ralph and Alice and James and Rat Nose—all expectant and wondering what in diablos is going on. Before any of them can wedge a word in, I blurt, “We’re taking back our names. We don’t, we’re borrados. Blotted out.”
“You mean ‘Rat Nose’ is dead?” Ralph moans. “Such an excelente and rodential name?”