Parts & Labor by Mark Gimenez

pink
fluffy gob of spun sugar. So I didn't buy cotton candy anymore. Now, standing
there and staring at the cotton candy machine, it was like looking at a
favorite toy from my childhood.
    Game
day was one of the few times we could have food that was bad for us, so I always
made the most of the opportunity. The concession stand lady handed me my foot-long
hot dog. It felt warm in my hand. I stepped over to the condo … conda … condominium table and squirted two lines of mustard the length of the hot dog
then took a big bite. Man, that tasted good. Mom smothered Maddy's hot dog in
ketchup, which was dangerous because she might slap the thing on her head.
    "What
do you want on your hot dog, Norbert?" my mom asked.
    Norbert
stared at my hot dog as if he'd never seen one before.
    "Mrs.
Dugan, your food often gives me gas. Do you think a hot dog would give me
gas?"
    Mom laughed. " Our food?"
    "Everything
gives Max gas," Scarlett said.
    I
nodded. "That's true."
    "You've
never had a hot dog?" Mom asked.
    "No,
I have never experienced a hot dog."
    Mom and I glanced at each other. Home schooled.
    "Dude,
you gotta try one. Hot dogs are, like, one of the greatest inventions of
mankind. Well, maybe except for cotton candy—I mean, how can they make sugar
do that?"
    Mom handed a hot dog to Norbert.
    "You
want mustard on it?" I asked.
    "I
do not know mustard."
    I
squirted a line of mustard the length of the dog. Norbert looked at it oddly,
then took a big bite. He smiled.
    "Excellent."
    I
nodded. "All beef."
    Norbert
downed his hot dog in four big bites then stuck his fist out to me. I gave him
a fist-bump.
    "Max,"
Mom said, "I think a home run deserves Amy's."
    "Yes!"
    Norbert
farted loudly then nodded. "The hot dog gave me gas."
    Amy's
Ice Cream is an institution in Austin. I think it's the best ice cream in the
world, although I've never had ice cream anywhere else in the world, except one
time when we went to the beach on Padre Island. The Amy's on South Congress
across from the Austin Motel is a little walk-up place with a big board on the
outside wall which displayed that day's flavors: sweet cream, white chocolate,
Mexican vanilla, Belgian chocolate, black velvet, pistachio, just vanilla, and
coffee. My mom's favorite was white chocolate. My dad's was sweet cream.
Mine was Mexican vanilla with crushed Oreos in a chocolate-dipped waffle cone.
(Hey, when we go to Amy's, I go for the gold.)
    "What
flavor would you like, Norbert?" Mom asked.
    "Do
you think ice cream would also give me gas?"
    Mom laughed again.
    "Don't
tell me you've never had ice cream either?" I said.
    "No.
I have not."
    "What
planet are you from? Norbert, you gotta try Amy's ice cream. It's
awesome."
    Norbert
eyed my cone.
    "Here,
you can have mine," I said. "I haven't licked it yet."
    I
held it out to him. He hesitated, then took it. Then he sniffed it.
    "Go
ahead," I said. "Get down on that bad boy."
    "I
am not a bad boy," Norbert said.
    "Not
you. The cone."
    "The
ice cream cone is a bad boy?"
    "Just
lick the dang thing."
    He
licked it. His eyes lit up.
    "Dude,
ice cream is even more excellent."
    "I
know my ice cream."
    I
ordered another one. When we all had our cones, we piled into the Suburban and
drove to Scarlett's football game.
    "Two,
four, six, eight, who do we appreciate? Tigers! Tigers!"
    An
eighth-grade football game isn't like the pros. But the players try to play
like the pros. They wear the same gear and hit each other helmet first, going
for the "big hit" the fans love. I didn't play football for three reasons:
One, every year boys in Texas break their necks playing youth football; B, Mom wouldn't let me; and third, I wasn't big, strong, or fast.
    Norbert
gazed at Scarlett cheering and jumping and somersaulting on the sideline with
the other cheerleaders like he was star-struck. It's really embarrassing when
a younger boy gets a crush on an older girl. Especially when the older girl is
your sister.
    "I
like her round bouncy things," Norbert