Prince Juan Paco and the Mexican Sneakers

This was not written by me, nor do I find such banal humor funny.
Published with permission by - Guillermo Maria del Toro Gomez


“Padre, I'm going to fight with the Zapatillas,” said Juan.

“Alright son, you'll need to take my rifle,” replied El Rey handing him a finely oiled blunderbuss.

“Gracias,” said Juan.

“Here's some money for ammo,” said El Rey.

Juan Paco the handsome prince took the money, walked out the door and toward the swap meet. It was a fair spring day but Juan Paco could hear no birds singing. The women of the swap meet, that had once swooned paisley were all gone and could therefor not please him. A sadness came over him and he asked himself over and over, how could all the chicas have left me? But the answer was there in front of him. Posted at the gate to the swap meet was a Zapatilla sign written in Mexican.

Join the Zapatilla Army of National Liberation
Fight for your Rights!
1. Women, regardless of their race, creed, color or political affiliation, have the right to participate in the revolutionary struggle in any way that their desire and capacity determine.
2. Women have the right to work and receive a just salary.
3. Women have the right to decide the number of children they have and care for.
4. Women have the right to participate in the matters of the community and have charge if they are free and democratically elected.
5. Women and their children have the right to Primary Attention in their health and nutrition.
6. Women have the right to education.
7. Women have the right to choose their partner and are not obliged to enter into marriage.
8. Women have the right to be free of violence from both relatives and strangers. Rape and attempted rape will be severely punished.
9. Women will be able to occupy positions of leadership in the organization and hold military ranks in the revolutionary armed forces.
10. Women will have all the rights and obligations which the revolutionary laws and regulations give.
11. Women have the right to wear sneakers.

Juan could see how the women might want to wear sneakers, but how could they live without his Paco snacks? Slinging his rifle across his back, Juan Paco began primping his curls and moving his tongue in circles, as he always did when he thought about the ladies. He read the location of the Zapatillas recruiting center below the list of women's rights and found that they were meeting behind the Walmart.

It took Juan Paco five minutes to walk over there, where he found a masked man wearing fancy Mexican sneakers sitting behind a cardboard table. As soon as he saw Juan Paco he stood up and looked menacing by pointing at his crotch. But Juan Paco, being a prince, was not intimidated and noticed by how smooth and supple the masked man's hands were that his was a Paco.

“Chu are a Paco!” said Juan Paco accusingly.

With his cover blown the Paco sat back down and began reading Nietzsche's the Antichrist in Mexican.

“Don't ignore me Paco,” said Juan Paco testily, with his hand on his hip. But ignore him the Paco did. So Juan Paco lunged over the table and grabbed the Paco on the ass; so hard as to make him wince.

“Easy! Easy!” cried out the Paco, while wiggling out of Juan Paco's strong grip, “what are chu wanting?”

“You Zapatillas have taken all the ladies, with your promises of sneakers,” said Juan Paco.

“No way man, we are liberating them,” he paused and crossed his arms. “We are liberating them from chu!”

With this Juan Paco began to boil with anger. No one talked to a prince like this. “You don't know what the chicas want,” he said in a pout and began to cry. The Paco began to feel poorly and to console him, but Juan Paco ran off. Crying into the evening, Juan Paco began to steel himself against his feelings of inferiority. What did it matter if the other Pacos thought they were giving the chicas something better? But what if they were? Accepting the thought as a possibility made a small trickle of urine escape him. He had to find out the truth. Out from under the bleachers he was hiding under, Juan Paco ran toward the YMCA where he knew the Zapatillas would gather. Once there, he hid himself in the rafters and watched as the chicas and Pacos gathered.

“Chicas – we are here to respect you and treat you like equals,” said a Paco dressed as a Zapatilla to a group of chicas who were all wearing red scarfs and standing straight.

The chicas love this, thought Juan Paco amazed. Each chica was parring up with a Paco and bringing them to a corner of the YMCA to make sweet revolutionary love. Juan Paco realized that all he had to do was act sensitive and the chicas would come running to him. Placing a handkerchief over his face, straightening out his curls and taking off his pants like the other Pacos, he began to infiltrate. The first chica he saw stared him right in the eye. Juan Paco was so used to women swooning paisley, that he began to blush under his handkerchief.

“Hello,” said the chica.

Not sure what to say and feeling an erection growing, Juan Paco simply stood there and looked meek and in need of nurturance.

“Why did you join the Zapatillas?” asked the woman who was trying to be friendly, as she could she Juan Paco's bulging muscles even through his meek demeanor.

“I want,” said Juan Paco and paused. “I want all the peoples to live in harmony together and have sneakers,” he paused again and added, “of course.”

“Of course,” said the chica whose cheeks were becoming rosy and her eyes starting to dilate.

Juan Paco could tell she was ovulating and knew he had only a few minuets to inseminate her at her prime readiness. “I respect you,” said Juan Paco as he gently pushed his tongue out of his mouth so that it moved the handkerchief suggestively.

“But why do you respect me?” asked the chica nearly out of breath.

“Because chu are a woman, and woman deserve respect baby,” said Juan Paco as he began to pull off his handkerchief.

As if pulled like a magnet, the chica wrapped her legs around Juan Paco and within seconds she was inseminated and beginning to grow a pasquisimo inside her, which was just super. Feeling empowered by having the right to decide the number of children she had, the chica unsaddled Juan Paco and walked with dignity to the swimming pool with the other chicas to wash up.

Without his pants or primped curls, Juan Paco fell in easily with the other Pacos, who were all feeling very satisfied and non-hierarchical. Juan Paco was so used to being the alpha male, that it took some getting used to. But with little effort he fell in with the rest of the Pacos, liking the fact that he no longer had to grab and squeeze ass checks to get his way with the chicas.

Before long the Mexican government found out about the Zapatilla headquarters in the YMCA and bombed it, sadly killing Juan Paco the handsome prince. The revolutionary movement which was only an infant ended that day and the cries of Pacos, Paquitos, Paquisimos and teeny tiny Paco fetuses in mourning could be heard from around the world, as they all wanted to know from whence came the Mexican sneakers.

So ends the story of Prince Juan Paco and the Mexican Sneakers