Grama Cuca walked into el cuarto de dormir one morning and sniffed around the room. "Peow!" she exclaimed. "Something aquí adentro smells like it just crawled under la cama and died. ¿Qué podrá ser?"

"I don't know what it is grama," Canutito said. "Pero it does oler como un rotten egg wrapped in an old media, aquí adentro."

"Well, don't look at me," interjected Grampo Caralampio. "No puede ser yo after all, I took a bath recientemente, just last month."

"¿El mes pasão?" shrieked Grama Cuca. "You think que eso was just recently? Con razón las cuiltas on the bed smell como el sudadero de un burro."

Canutito snickered at the thought that the bedroom blankets might stink like the saddle blanket of a donkey. Grampo Caralampio saw que su nieto was getting un charge out of la situación so he decided to extol the virtudes of roña.

"Don't you know Cuca," he asked his wife, "que la roña is good for you? Mi Tatita Dios put grime en el mundo to remind us que we are made of zoquete. It's only natural for people to smell like a corral."

"Oh sí!" Grama Cuca shrieked again. "¡Y con eso te la quieres quitar! You won't get away using eso como un excuse."

By that time, Canutito was guachando his abuelitos intently. He always got a charge out of watching a los viejitos get into arguments. It made him realize que nadie was perfecto, not even old people.

"Why did you say que todos are made out of mud, grampo?" he asked his grandfather.

"Pus, porque eso es lo que dice en la Bible," he replied. "Que God created al hombre from zoquete and then izque he creó a la mujer from a rib that He took out of the man's armpit. Por eso women have to echarse perfume and all kinds of garrero just to smell nice."

"¡Grocero!" shrieked Grama Cuca a third time. "You are pervertiendo the word of God. La Bible doesn't say any of those porquerías. In fact, it dice que cleanliness is next to Godliness. That means que you have to stop running around smelling como un zapato viejo and bañarte and change your ropa every so often."

"All of los great advances en el mundo," began grampo getting todo philosophical, have come about gracias a la roña. Did you know that mojo is responsible for all of las cosas buenas en el mundo?"

"Really, grampo?" asked Canutito surprised. "Are all the good things in the world due to mold?"

"Pus chur, m'hijo," grampo replied. "Nomás ponte a pensar. El vino is made out of fermented grape juice. Y ¿cómo do you think que lo hacen ferment? Con mold of course. Y también el queso no es nada más que spoiled milk que se ha hecho toda solid, full of mojo también. Y si te pones a pensar, think of bread. La levadura, the yeast en el pan is nothing more que spores de mojo used to make the dough alsarse. Y también cuando you go to agarrar los flu shots en el clinic, what do you think que los doctores are pumping into you, eh? Penicillin; mold otra vez. Entonces don't go around hablando mal del mold and la roña after all that is what we all are."

Canutito looked up at his grampo all impressed con él. It looked as if he had silenced a la Grama Cuca con su logical way of thinking. She just le dio un dirty look and stalked out of el cuarto.

"You sure are esmarte, grampo," Canutito said, feeling a little more justified about having dirt and grime under his fingernails.

"Let's go eat ahora," Grampo Caralampio said. "I'm sure que tu gramita has something good for us to comer en la cocina."

The two men walked into the kitchen where Grama Cuca had put out a nice spread on la mesa. There was milk que estaba toda expired, red enchiladas that had turned all verdes because of the mold en ellas, old tortillas that smelled like patas and arróz con leche with a couple of cucarachas swimming in the bowl. The men looked at her por una explicación.

Grama Cuca just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Remember men that you are dust and unto dust you shall return. Now, eat up since you think que están todos esmartes!" She giggled to herself.

¿Le gustaría compartir sus propias anécdotas o comentar con Torres sobre esta columna? Envíele un correo electrónico a lartor@unm.edu.