" Today Ramon defended the garbage bin by Plumpy’s back door, and I defended a shiny silver Mercedes because, according to Ramon, it represented the privileged white aristocracy of America trying to keep the Latino man down.
“Our duel,” Ramon said, spinning his broom like a bo staff, “will represent the struggle our nation’s currently engaged in.”
“Please, we both know you’re just going for home team advantage.”
“You wound me, Sam. I can’t help it if your crackerlike oppression gives me the better playing field.” He did a quick hamstring stretch. “Suck it up.”
“Fine,” I said, “then I get the handicap.”
“Sam, you’re Texas. Texas always gets the handicap.”
“I’m Team Texas again?”
He grinned, rolled his shoulders, and wiggled his arms, loosening them.
I gave up and nodded at the Mercedes. It looked old and expensive, especially in our parking lot. “Shiny.”
Ramon snorted. “Classic. Check out the gullwing doors.”
“Fine. Classic Shiny.”
Ramon tossed an empty Plumpy’s cup into the Dumpster. “Sometimes, Sammy, I question your manhood.”
“A car is to get you from place to place. That’s it.”
Ramon shook his head at my ignorance.
“Whatever. Just try not to dent the car, Team Mexico.”
“It’s Team South America,” he said.
“You do know that Mexico is in North America, right?”
“Yeah, but I have the whole continent behind me.” He held up his fist dramatically. “They support their cousin to the north.” I laughed and he dropped his hand back down. “And it’s that guy’s own fault for parking in our lot so he could sneak over to Eddie Bauer or Starbucks or whatever. "
― Lish McBride , Hold Me Closer, Necromancer (Necromancer, #1)