Stupid Samuel, standing stark naked in his cuarto alone, understood that his days were numbered. The room's dank mood did not help a bit. It's only Febrero and he had already offended the community at least twice this year. How could he expect to make it till Diciembre? How could he receive Christmas regalos when he had to give them away? 

He caught the kids chanting about his imminent fatherhood before he could even reach his teenage years. Stupid Samuel sighed and shook his curly head. There was no use in moping. Swigging a bottle of San Miguel might be good medication at the moment, but nothing could beat a dose of optimism. Que sera sera. Whatever will be, will be. 

It was a waste of time to argue with reason. Thinking thus, he hoped and looked forward to a better tomorrow. He almost wanted to break into a song, believing that the sun would come out tomorrow, so he got to hang on until tomorrow, come what may. 

"Mañana! Mañana!" he sang to himself instead, glancing out the small ventana, as if peering out of the window would make the day go by faster.

No sooner were these words uttered did Mona pass by Stupid Samuel's periphery. ¡Ay, caramba!  He cursed in his head. What was supposed to happen might as well take place now, for what's supposed to happen, would eventually occur. At least this time, he was prepared. 

"Que quieres?" Stupid Samuel shouted from the window, asking what Mona wanted.

"You want kill me? That it?" Stupid Samuel yelled as Mona continued walking towards his house. 

"You bring mucho problema! Not enough?" Stupid Samuel screamed at the top of his lungs, rousing the townsfolk from their siestas.

"No, pero sugar is good," Mona replied as she looked at the boy teetering over the window. 

Stupid Samuel hesitated, sighed loudly, and relented. His hand waved at the open door. "Puerta abierta."

"Tómalo tú mismo," the boy continued. "Go get yourself. I not come down." 

Stupid Samuel prided himself this time on being clever. Nobody could fool him, not even Mona. Although he heard banging noises and girlish screaming coming from downstairs, he would stay where he was. No one can say shit if he's up here and Mona was down there. 

He chuckled and cackled and rolled on the floor. Then he pondered the logic of it again: he would not be Stupid Samuel anymore if he became smart. His name would be "Smarty-Pants Samuel", and he did not like the sound of that one bit.