The Blue Banana Bandit

First Place, adults's stories

Michael J. Chavez |

12/18/2008 - 12/19/08

There was a crowd for breakfast at the Pantry. Today was Christmas Eve. I was having my regular, huevos with bacon, beans, and a side of green chile. I looked up and saw a friend, Waldo, and his wife, Corrine, walk in. They walked over, and Waldo and I did our chicano handshake.

"Hey man, how's it going?" I asked.

"It's all good, bro. So, you having the Super Bowl party at your house this year since you're getting a new flat screen TV?" he asked.

"What flat screen TV?"

I noticed that Corrine gave him a shove. "Waldo ... It's supposed to be a surprise."

"Pues, you didn't tell me it was a surprise," he said.

"What surprise?" I asked.

Waldo couldn't contain himself. "Corrine told me that your mom and dad came into Baillio's yesterday and bought flat screen TVs for all the kids from her."

I turned to look at Corrine. "Is that true?"

"Que si," she replied. "I was working on the floor when they came in to see me. They paid with a check for four flat screen TVs. Your mom wanted them delivered to all of you today."

"For real?" I asked.

"Yeah, for real, Michael," Corrine replied.

"But how can they afford TVs for all of us on Social Security?" I questioned.

"I don't know, but I called Anita at the bank, and their check was good."

I quickly finished my breakfast. The chile was starting to give me indigestion. I called Vangie, my sister, with the news.

"They just delivered my TV," she told me excitedly. "They're setting it up now."

"So how are mom and dad paying for it?" I asked her.

"Maybe they won the lottery!" she replied.

"Vangie," I said very seriously, "they don't play the lottery. Call Anita at the bank and have her check out mom's and dad's account, then call me back."

About an hour later she called me. "You're never going to believe this, Michael. Anita wouldn't tell me how much they had in their account, but she said they're loaded."

"This is crazy. Last year they hardly could afford to buy anything." There was a long pause in our conversation. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

"You remember last year for Christmas, what did my Auntie Connie buy mom?"

She thought for a moment. "A coat."

"Yeah, and what else?" I asked.

"A scarf or bandana or something like that."

"Yeah, that's right. What color was it?" I asked.

She thought for a while. "Blue, I think."

"Bueno, pues," I said. "A blue bandana. Have you been watching Channel 7 about that blue-bandana bandit that's been robbing banks in Santa Fe?"

"You're crazy. You don't think ... mom ... Nah. And I can just see dad waiting outside in his '81 Plymouth. By the time he got the car started the cops could have finished their coffee and donuts and still had plenty of time to get to the bank," she said.

We were both silent for a minute.

"Tonight, when we all get together at their house for Christmas Eve, I'll talk to them," I told her.

The thought of mom and dad robbing banks seemed incredible to me. But the image kept spinning in my mind like a roulette wheel.

They only go grocery shopping and power walking at the Villa Linda Mall. They go to Mass every Saturday. The fact that the TV reported the bank robber was short, heavy-set, wore a heavy overcoat, a blue bandana, and oversized sunglasses was remarkable. The description could fit mom, I thought. She wore these large sunglasses that fit over her regular glasses and covered half her face. But she never went anywhere without lipstick. Surely, the video of the bank robber would catch that. But maybe she decided not to wear lipstick?

The image of the cops handcuffing mom and dad on Christmas Eve depressed me. I left work early.

By the time I arrived at mom's and dad's house, all the family was there. Dad was in the living room with most of the family, talking and laughing and watching Vanna White turn letters on Wheel of Fortune.

I greeted them all and walked into the kitchen. Mom was rolling out tortillas and talking with the grandkids. The posole was on the stove next to the tamales in the pressure cooker. The kids were eating bizcochitos.

"Don't eat too many or you won't be hungry for dinner," she scolded them. I kissed her hello.

"Hi mi hijto," she said. She gave me a sly smile.

"Hi, mom. How was your day?" I asked.

"Cooking all day," she replied.

"Oh ... cooking, huh," I said. "You didn't go anywhere today?"

"Para donde voy?" she responded. She sensed cynicism in my voice.

"I don't know, mom. What have you and dad been doing lately? Shopping, maybe?" I asked.

Vangie and my brothers, Gene and Gilbert, casually strolled into the kitchen.

Mom paddled a tortilla between her hands and laid it on the griddle. She started rolling another. "Yes, your daddy and I went Christmas shopping."

"And did you take that blue scarf that Auntie Connie bought you?" I wanted to gauge her reaction. She looked at me strangely.

Dad strolled into the kitchen and poured himself some Coke from the half-gallon bottle in the refrigerator. "Was Santa Claus good to you, Michael?" he asked me.

"Como que no, dad. He brought me a brand-new flat-screen television. Muchas gracias to both of you. But I don't know if I
can keep it," I said.

"Then give it to me, bro," Gene blurted out. "I could use another one in my bedroom."

"Mom ... Dad," I said in a low, serious tone. "I love you both very much. Pero, por que?" I asked. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because we love all of you very much, mi hijto" she replied.

"But don't you see how serious this is? I mean, don't you see what will happen if they catch you?"

"If who catches us?" dad blurted out.

I looked around at my family. "You know who," I answered.

Mom walked over to turn the tortilla on the griddle. Everyone was staring at me.

"What are you talking about?" Gene asked.

"Where do you think they got the money to buy us the televisions?" I shouted.

Everyone looked at each other and began laughing.

"What's so funny?" I said.

"Mi hijto. You weren't here when we gave everybody the news."

"What news?"

"About the money," my dad replied. It was a settlement from a lot of years ago when the government took land from your grandpa up in Los Alamos. The Pajarito land that he owned. "

Mom spoke up. "El Senator Duchimini made a settlement, and they sent us money for what they took from your grandpa."

"You mean Domenici?" I asked.

"Yeah ... He made a settlement with all of the families of the people who owned land at Pajarito. So the television is a gift from your grandpa, Senator Duchimini, your daddy, and me," she said.

"Eeee. Hola. I'm always the last to know anything," I said.

"So when do we eat?"