“Nah cabron, look here, you know RedDollaz? Well, that’s my homie from like the 7th grade. Grew up on Burns street, his mom used to kick it in mi tia’s shop all the time. His real name is David but when I seen his picture on the album I knew right away it was him. Honestly, if his nerdy ass can make it in the music biz, I know damn well that I can too.” said Guillermo, but his homies called him Memo.

“Yeah Memo, Im witchu one hundred percent on that, just promise me that you won’t be like those fake ass niggas who are claiming that they’re with the life but they really aren’t. Promise you’ll keep it real and I’ll ride witchu.” said Memo’s friend, Mateo.

Mateo had been Memo’s friend since they were 5. When Mateo got kicked out of his house 2 years ago, Memo’s mom took him in and since then, they’ve been practically inseparable. Memo knew his mom only wanted Mateo for the welfare she would get with a fifth kid but he never told him that.

“15 sitting on 15k” mumbled Memo. If he wanted to be a rapper, He’d better start working on it now.
“Whoa whoa whoa bro, don’t get too cocky now. You’re turning 16 in two months,over here saying you got “15k” at 15 years old. Ya callate pendejo. Shut up stupidass.” Mateo teased.

“Aaah you shut up!” laughed Memo as he punched Mateo in the arm. “Come at me bro, Oh you won’t, oh you won’t. Hand me David’s CD before I kick your ass.”

Mateo threw the CD at Memo and he caught it with his athlete arm that lead his school to the finals two years in a row.
“Oh man, I seen you slippin’ right there, have you been practicing your catches? You know the team can’t afford to lose you.” said Mateo.
“Yeah, not as much as I should though. Especially with tryouts tomorrow.” sighed Memo as he popped the CD into the dinky little CD player that they shared. The first song started with a simple bass and then a little bit more was added and that went on until David AKA Reddollaz voice said “Aaye you already know who it is homeboy!”

They finished listening to the CD in an hour and decided it was time to go home. Memo kept replaying his favorite lyrics over and over in his head. David kept saying how many girls he had, how much money he made, all the drugs he did, and all the guns he had. Memo wanted all of those things so badly. He looked at Mateo and mumbled, “I want that.”

“What happened?” asked Mateo
“Um nothing man, it’s nothing.”
Memo grabbed his english notebook and ripped out all the pages that he had wrote in before and started laying down his rhymes in it. He had been working on it so long that he ended up falling asleep around midnight.
He had a full notebook of rhymes and he set off to the nearest studio. There was a man there named Flaco. He grabbed Memo’s notebook and laughed so hard that he almost cried.

“But- but- what’s wrong with it, I spent so much time on this! It’s perfect!” cried Memo.

“Look mijo, you’re 15 with perfect attendance, a 3.5 GPA and the star football player at your school. There is no way in hell that you get bitches, smoke weed, and pop caps like you claim in your rhymes. The world doesn’t need another fake ass hood rat. The day you do everything you claim, hit me up.”, said Flaco.

Memo knew that in order to make his career explode, he had to be an actual badass, just like Flaco and David. He switched up his whole style. He threw away all his sweater vess and khakis and bought white Ts and Dickies. He started greasing up his hair and bought a pair of Cortez.

Three weeks later, Mateo had had enough of Memo’s new style.
“What the f*** are you doing boy! Acting all big and bad but you ain’t never lived this type of struggle in your life. You don’t smoke weed, you don’t get girls and you most definitely don’t kill other people Memo. What are you trying to do over here wearing this s***, walking like you’re all bad ass? You wanna know what bad ass is Memo? Huh? Bad ass is when you haven’t ate in three days because your mom spent all the money on her and her 7th boyfriend. Bad ass is trying to cook for your little brother when you can’t see over the stove yourself. That’s bad ass Memo, not this gangster s*** that you’ve never been apart of.”

“You’re messed up for bringing Chucho into this Mateo, I know he was your brother but I miss him too. You act like I wouldn’t bring you and him over to eat when his stomach would grumble.” Tears began to swell in Memo’s eyes, “You think I don’t remember trying to remember how my mom would make food so I can go teach you.”
“Gangsters don’t cry,” Mateo said as he walked out the door.

Memo decided he would go kick it at the park with the older guys who grew up on the block.
“Man you have messed up friends little homie, trying to run your life and s***, you don’t need that. Come kick it with us more often, we need fresh soldiers like you around.” said Milo.

Milo was known for the work he had done in the hood. Nobody ever messed with his family. He was basically the shot caller for the barrio. Everyone had a sort of respectful fear towards him. Milo knew it too, so he never showed anyone any fear at all, he knew that that would kill his rep. So when he asked Memo, Memo said “okay” so fast that Milo was almost surprised.

Everyday since then, Memo was found sitting with Milo and all the other homies who were known for the work they put in. Mateo noticed a difference in Memo almost immediately. His grades were dropping, he never played football anymore, he came home late smelling of weed and Corona, and it was as if he didn’t care anymore. Mateo knew he was going to lose Memo soon if he didn’t try to help. Mateo seen him kicking it with Milo and all the homies and decided that this was it. He was going to save his best friend.

Mateo walked up to Memo, grabbed his shirt and said, “okay bad ass, we’re going home. Your mom always told you to never kick it here and you know damn well she’s going to kick your ass if she sees you here. Come home before I snitch on your dumbass.”

Before Memo could even think of replying, Milo nodded his head. Everyone knew what that meant, and sure enough Gordo stood up and grabbed Mateo by his shirt and picked him up so high that Mateo thought he was going to be sick. Gordo threw him down and started punching and kicking him. All of a sudden it was Gordo, Guero, Nino, and Peewee on top of Mateo, kicking and punching, stomping on him, making him bleed.

While Mateo was getting jumped, Milo turned to Memo and said, “Look little homie, with all this time you spend with us, I’m sure you’re smart enough to piece together what it is that we run here. We don’t play little games ok. We represent the greater being. Your homie here, he’s keeping you back, he doesn’t want you to make money like me. He doesn’t want you to get girls like me. He’s jealous of you, Memo. But me, I can make you something big Memo. I’ll make sure you get all the respect you deserve. So I just need you to answer one question. Are you down to ride?”

Memo didn’t know what to say. Maybe it was the fear of getting jumped like Mateo or maybe it was the longing to be like Milo, but Memo simply whispered, “yes.”

“Alright, well since you wanna run with the big boys, you have to do some big boy things. Remember one thing though, you can’t back out because we’re family now, and you don’t run out on family. You need to shoot little homie right there.”, said Milo calmly while pointing at Mateo crying and bleeding on the floor. “And yes I understand that you may be scared, but don’t worry. Remember, we’re family and family doesn’t snitch ok.”
Milo handed Memo the gun and it was as if all feelings and emotions left him. The shooting was quick, really simple and fast.

Memo went home and his mom asked him where Mateo was and he simply answered with a “I dunno. I thought he was home” But he knew exactly where Mateo was. He was laying in the park. Dead. Memo prayed that maybe Mateo was with his little brother, the one that died in the fire just two years ago when they were 13 and he was 9.

The next morning, Memo woke up to the phone ringing. He heard his mom say “Yes this is Yolanda Munoz.- Yes I do have full custody of Mateo Gonzalez.- No no no- no he’s probably just asleep in the room.” her voice was breaking and she started calling for Mateo with all her might. When nobody answered she began to scream and continued mumbling and crying “Mateo noooo Mateo.” About 30 seconds later she went into Memo’s room and lifted the covers as if she was going to lay down with him. When he looked at her big red puffy eyes he asked her what was wrong. She simply hugged him so tight that he thought he would explode. He knew why she was crying.

After about three weeks of car washes and picking up donation jars, they were able to have his funeral. Milo sat with Memo as if he loved Mateo. After the funeral Milo went to Memo and said, “Me and the homies are going to this kick back and Jennifer’s house at 9, be ready by 8 and I’ll come get you.”

So by 8, Memo was ready. He hopped in the backseat of the all so famous ‘67 Impala and within five minutes was at Jennifer’s house. He walked in and the party was already popping off. There was some of the baddest girls he had ever seen and some of the biggest bottles of tequila he had ever seen. He was going to have some fun tonight.The music got louder and more and more fine ass girls came walking in. Even though the room was full of girls, he only seen one. He had known her since like the third grade and always had a thing for her but she only dated cholos so he never even tried for her. Her name was Cassandra and she had long brown hair and she definitely wasn’t the scrawny type. Memo figured he’d give it a shot so he made an extra drink, walked over to her and said, “hey mami, I brought you a drink because I figured you’d be thirsty from running through my mind all day.”

Cassandra laughed and said “Wow Guillermo, I remember when you were the dorkiest kid in class, you’ve really grown up. And I’m really sorry to hear about Mateo, I know he was your best friend. Maybe later I can make you feel better?”

Memo couldn’t believe it! He turned around to see Milo with two girls all up on him and when he turned back around Cassandra was leading him to the dance floor. They danced all night and he couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked. After about 6 songs, she laid her head on his shoulder and said, “oh my gosh Memo I’m so tired, can you take me to Jenny’s room so I can nap?” Memo simply nodded, grabbed her hand and walked her to the room. She threw herself on the bed and was about to fall asleep, but when she seen Memo trying to leave she said, “wait where are you going, come lay down with me.” He second guessed it but laid down with her anyways. She cuddled up with him and things got kinda heated.

After they were done, he was about fall asleep when he heard someone yell, “COOOOOPS!!!” Both him and her jumped up, put their clothes back on and slid out through the window. Memo pushed Cassandra up over the fence and right when he was about to jump over he heard “Hey you! Freeze and put your hands where I can see them!” Memo tried to jump anyways but it was too late. The cop grabbed onto his foot and pulled him down. “Son, what’s your name?” asked the cop.

“My name is Guillermo Munoz”
“Well Guillermo, you’re under arrest for underage drinking, public intoxication and resisting arrest.”
The cop began reading his rights but everything seemed like a movie. All Memo could think of was his mom, his brothers and sisters, and Mateo. Mateo would be so disappointed in him. What would he even say to his mom. The cop shoved Memo’s head into the back of the cop car and when he looked up he seen another cop shoving Milo into another car.

“Guillermo Munoz.”, said a cop as he opened the cell door, “Your mom is here for you.”
As Memo walked out the cell he looked at the clock and seen it was 2:30 in the morning and as he looked down he seen his mom with her pajamas on. As she finished writing her signature, the cop let him go and his mom grabbed him even harder.

“Okay hot shot prison boy, what makes you think you can be sneaking out and partying at all hours of the night. Not only that but with the very guys I said I never wanted to see you with and on top of that, the day of Mateo’s funeral. I don’t know what was going on in your mind and I really don’t care to be completely honest. I should’ve left your ass in prison so the negros can poke you and see how much fun you have in there.” Memo’s mom was just kind of ranting.

The next day he snuck out to go the the park with Milo. Milo laughed when Memo told them what his mom said. “oh man Memo, want me to go loosen your mom up? She sounds a bit uptight,” said Peewee.

Everyday for a couple of years, Memo went and met up with the homies. Slowly, his grades began dropping and he got kicked off the football team. He found out he wasn’t Cassandra’s first and that she gave him herpes.
The meetings at the park went on for about another 10 years and the kid who everyone thought was going to get out the hood, became another casualty of the wrong war. The street war. When Memo was 26, they reopened Mateo’s case and found some new evidence. When the cops showed up to the park to arrest Gordo, Gordo changed the story real quick and snitched on Memo.
Memo got tried as an adult even though he pulled the trigger when he was 15.
“You know, I remember going to my daughter’s school one day and seeing you playing ball, I had been talking to one of the teacher and they said you were a star athlete with perfect grades.” said the judge, “what a waste, Life without parole.”
Memo’s life was over. How could he let his life get thrown down the whole like this.
As he was on the bus on his way to prison, he noticed to race classifications. All the white kids stood with the white kids, all the blacks stuck together, and all the mexicans seemed to attract to each other. It seemed only right to go with the other mexican kids. As he got up to move with them, he tried to think of how he would introduce himself. It looked as if they had all known each other. He walked up and said, “Hey um, I’m Guillermo, but everyone calls me Memo.”
“Wassup Memo, lemme ask you something real quick little homie. Where you from?” , asked the man with the Loks on.
“Um well I was born and raised right here in California, but I’ve always lived in Sunnyvale.”, answered Memo nervously.
“Hmmm. Sunnyvale. I’ve heard of it. Do you know my homie Milo?”
“Yeah I’m under his wing actually.”
“Oh nice nice. So that makes you one of us. Here, here, sit down. My name is Osito.”
Memo could see where he got that name. Osito meaning little bear in spanish.  He did look like a little bear. With his upper lip covered in a fresh trimmed mustache, dark skin and full head of slicked back hair, he was an old cub. Short and chubby too, you could tell he was working on years worth of a beer belly.
Night time came around and Memo began getting close to his cell mate, C-Lok.
“So tell me what this family is about.”, said Memo.
“Look ima be completely honest, it can be dangerous at times but it’s worth it. It has protected me through so much. But I hear they’re starting drafts.”, said C-Loks.
“Um what do you mean drafts?”
“For the war going on right now. Los gringos, the white people went to war with China. Y los Chinitos son fuerte. The chinese people are strong. They need help and they’re grabbing from the prison. If you go to war, You serve your time at war. I might just just join. You should too,”
C-Loks didn’t lie. Sign ups started a week later and training began a week after that.
The sergeants were no joke. They made you get up at about 3:30 and you went to bed around 8:00 pm. They shaped thousands of men who were considered unshapable. They fixed the biggest sinner. If you fell behind, the punishments were brutal. Osito himself lost a hundred pounds. The men shaved their hair and set up for war. They left completely renewed. You would have never guessed that they were all prisoners. All the men were clean cut, more fit, and gang related tattoos were removed.

When it was time for war, they set off. They were set off practically on their own.

The war proved to be gruesome. Men lost not only their own lives, but their mentalities, sense of compassion, and were forced to witness life long friends die. No matter which gang you came from, what race you were, where you were from, the prisoners became a family. Some of them still held on to a secret hatred of the other, but that was normal for all of them considering they had all lived with a sense of mistrust in people. Either way, they still took care of one another. Memo had never witnessed anything anything like it. He remembered his uncle saying, “Los gueros solo nos quieren para ser soldados por su país. The white men only wanted us to be soldiers for their country.” Memo should’ve listened because now he held on to those words like they were his own mother.

Memo felt himself falling apart. It was as if he had two people inside of him. There was one that wanted to jump on a boat home and go to his mom’s house to apologize for killing Mateo and for being a horrible son. The other one held on to the words that the generals repeated every morning. “Rise and shine soldiers, remember, you’re getting time off from your punishment just for doing your duty as an American, we should be paying you nothing. Lucky bastards.”

Memo had never killed anyone in the war. They were already two years in and he had been blessed to not have to kill anyone. To be honest, he knew he couldn’t live with the same guilt as he did with Mateo. But one day, while stationed in an abandoned farm, he woke up to chinese voices. He jumped up and glared out the window where he seen one chinese soldiers talking to himself as if he was arguing with himself. Memo tried to look for the former white supremacist, John, who was supposed to be in the room with him but couldn’t find him anywhere. He looked out the window to see John taking a leak on one of the trees outside.

It was as if life was going slow motion when he seen the chinese boy start aiming straight at John.
“Oh no no no no no Mr. China, not on my watch.”, Memo said as he began to load his gun. It was in that moment that he realized that it was happening all over again. The thinking. The need to be brave. The need to be accepted. The willingness to murder for those things. Guilty or not, he had to protect John.

BANG!
China man fell straight to the floor and John jumped while trying to zip up his pants.
Another 10 years passed after that and Memo was still in the war. He could almost promise that he was going to die there. Half the men that he had met on the bus 12 years ago were dead now. It was destiny for them to die in some sort of war, though. He was just happy that it was a government war other than a street war. Memo had never truly let go of the murders he committed. Since the first man in the farm, he seemed like a killing machine. It was almost like second nature to him. Still with all those bodies on his head, only one mattered. The things he would do to go back to the night he shot Mateo. He wouldn’t be where he is now. The war that seemed inescapable was the war in his head.

It was time for “meet up”. Meetup happened twice a year and it was basically the government’s way of seeing how many men they had lost and to give all the men new stations. They called out “Guillermo Munoz” and Memo simply replied “I’m right here.” They handed him his envelope and he opened it so he could see where they were shipping him off to now. This envelope was different, though. It simply read, “meet with your headman.”
His headman was not too hard to find but he was hard to get along with. “Mmhm, yes okay so you’re the man they told me to give special orders.”, he said casually.

“Can I know what those orders are?” asked Memo.
“You’re going home, son. But not home home so don’t get too excited there. You will be back in America within 3 days, congratulations you lucky bastard. Now you just get to go run around in the war prison, where the prisoners of war are held. Hope you have fun with that.”

“Alright, when does my plane land?”
“2 hours, be ready.”
Sure enough, 2 hours went by and a plane came to get Memo. As he got in the plane he turned to wave good bye to the friends he had made in the last years. He heard one of the men say, “Well, I just hope this is for his better.”

While he was in the plane, he found out he wasn’t the only one that got sent to work the war prison. He tuned into the conversations of the men surrounding him. Some men talked about the wives they were missing at home. Others talked about how much time off of prison they would get off for going into war.
It took about 3 hours for the plane to get to the prison. The men joked about being on the opposite side of the gates. Orientation began at 7 and all the men were there at 7 sharp.

Orientation opened with a white man of about 55 years of age coming out and saying, “At ease men, I bet you’re all wondering why you were chosen to come off the front and back into good ol’ America. Well, all of you had shown great improvement in your lives. I bet you remember most of the men next to you as colleagues from the prison just some years ago, and now look at you, freshly groomed, nice shaved hair. You guys are all exactly alike. Anyways, we’re not here to congratulate so early. We’re here to give out the jobs at which you will be working until the end of the war. Now, if you would please line up in alphabetical order and we will hand you your job description.”

All the men shuffled, looking at the other mens’ name tags and seeing where they might stand. From Acampo to Zuniga, all the men stood waiting for the envelopes that a woman was holding. One by one they opened up the card that would determine their work. When it had got to Memo, he opened it to read the word “FINISHER”.
“Alright men, I’m sure you’ve all seen the posters on the walls, now if you could go to the wall with the poster that says your job and we will have someone there to show you the ropes. Dorms are open when you wish to go claim a room and dinner will begin at eight.. I hope you all enjoy your time away from the front.”, said the white man.
Memo walked to the big sign that said “FINISHER” in bold letters. There were four other men there waiting and another man with a clipboard. The man with the clipboard cheerfully said, “And you must be Guillermo, Alright gentlemen, we’re all here, lemme show you your work.”

They began following him down a hall. It seemed as if the hall was getting smaller and smaller. All the men talked about where they had just came from and how happy they were to finally not be in China. “Dinner provided, beds nice and warm, man I made a smart choice coming to the war. Now I’m living life.”, said one of the cadets. They continued down the long, now narrow, hall. The cheerful man with the clipboard slammed through a big door that led to yet another door that simply said “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.” He opened that door too an on the inside there was a room full of Chinese men all caged up.

“War prison slaughterhouse.”, said the cheerful man, “Now you get to kill those bastards without a single worry.” Everyone cheered except Memo. He could only think about these men's’ lives. Yes, he had killed many before in the war, but only when they posed a threat to him. These men were skinny and weak. They looked as if they were dying anyways, why brutally torture and murder them?

Although he hated it, for the next fifteen years, Memo woke up bright and early, ate breakfast, took a morning run, and went to go murder Chinese men. It was a routine, and although it was exhausting for his mind to fight behind guilt and fear of execution, Memo knew he had to do it.

Memo had seen it before but never said anything. Whenever somebody felt compassion or got close to the Chinese, they disappeared. A month later, they would come back bright, shiny, and full of hate. Everyday, Memo took another man’s lives. He never tortured the men unless captains were watching. He would simply shoot them quickly and then torture their unfeeling corpse, leaving scars that made him look like the most patriotic man around.

After a couple more years, Memo couldn’t do it anymore. He got lazy with his work. Shoot them then leave. One day he got a letter requesting that he see the captains. When he walked into the office there were three men with big smiles and expensive suits who simply said, “Congratulations Guillermo, you’re going home for a while. We’re going to give you a little break so you can visit your mom. We know it’s been years since you’ve seen her. You leave tomorrow so go pack up, champ.”

He ran to his room and packed everything up, fell asleep, and woke up the next morning so he can go see his mom. He hopped on the plane and was in California within 45 minutes. It was weird now, though. Everything seemed so unreal. Nothing was different then when he left to prison. He paused and glared when he passed by the bench where he sat as he shot his brother. “If only.”, he thought.
He walked up to the door where he had lived all his childhood. The door opened and there his mother sat in a wheel chair. “Wow. Has it really been that long?”, Memo thought to himself.

“Nope no no no. Murderers are not permitted in my house. You leave or I’ll call the cops to come get your ass again.”, screamed the little old lady that Memo barely recognized as his own mother.

Never had Memo felt so crushed. His mother had been the rock he could rely on his whole life. How could she shun him this way? How could he murder his own best friend like that? His very brother and best friend was laying in the ground because of him. Memo found himself running. He didn’t know where he was running but he knew he was going somewhere. As Memo looked up, he seen the local cemetery. It looked fuller than he remembered. Memo knew the exact spot where his best friend lay. He had seen it in his dreams for many years.
Memo could feel the tears cold on his face as he ran. He tumbled onto the floor in front of the grave where his brother lay.

“Mateo, I’m so sorry. I pray that you would just forgive me because you just don’t understand. You were my best friend and my brother. I loved you. I loved wrestling with you, and playing video games with you, throwing the ball around with you. I miss you Mateo! Ple-”, Memo was interrupted.

“It’s late Memo.”
“Mateo? Is that you? What’s going on Mateo!?” Memo screamed to the sky.
“No s*** it’s me Memo. Get your ass up. It’s late.”
“I know it’s too late Mateo. I’m sorry. I know I can’t bring you back.”
Memo felt himself shaking.
“Stupid ass, I’m right here. Get up though like no lie we overslept and you have tryouts today.”