Laura: Hey, how are ya, Nezua?
Nezua: Good, good. I was just greasing up my GOP Voodoo Doll Family for a flaming kite-ride, but I have a minute. What's goin' on with you?
Laura: Oh, not much. Just in a bit of a bind.
Nezua: Really? How so?
Laura: Well, your article reads and looks great. It shines off the page like a river of light, you know?
Nezua: That's disturbing.
Laura: Seriously. We literally didn't need to use lamps last night. Working late, we just opened ten copies of the mag to your page, and there wasnt a shadow left in the building.
Nezua: Yes...I can see how that would impress you.
Laura: In fact, the article is so damn bitchin' that the other contributors are feeling a bit insecure about its inclusion....
Nezua: Really? Well. That's not at all satisfying. Perhaps I should pull my essay out until the Spring issue, when these other less-fortunate artisans have garnered a bit more confidence from appearing alongside less freakishly-gifted individuals such as myself.
Laura: Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that. And I'm not sure this issue could hold up, were you to remove the foundation-like presence of your words!
Nezua: Well, I insist. After all, it's for the Chican@ community. I'm not here to be a star, Laura. I'm here only to lend my small (but masculine and elegantly contoured) hand to a larger effort.
Laura: I don't know...I'm afraid if our advertisers hear that you are pulling out, they may jump ship, too.
Nezua: Oh, pshaw! That won't happen. I simply won't allow it. I will call them personally and entice them to stay on. I'll even offer to let them hold my voodoo doll for a few minutes.
Laura: Wow, Nezua. You really saved the day here.
Nezua: Don't you forget it, baby. Don't you forget it.

—"Paraphrased" Phone Call

And that's how it went down. (Something like that). So I'm sorry! My contribution belated. The Spring Fall issue of Chican@ Art Mag will not bear the stamp of NLXJ. Okay, I can hear you tripping over yourselves to cancel your order (well, those of you who live downstairs from me), and I hope you will reconsider. It's a great mag—nervous artists and all. So hang in there. And there's really no need to email Laura to plead that she please include the writings of The Unapologetic Mexican in future issues of the mag, because ten blister-lipped dogs couldn't keep the intelligent and discerning editor away from my lavish lingual lair. You can count on seeing my words in the Spring Issue. Unless I really bust out the back-room salsa, and melt the whole layout or something.

Mmmmm. Back room salsa...