Speaking Spanish

Pookey was a piranha who lived in an incredibly lush part of the world called Roraima, in the Mucajai River, which eventually feeds the Branco.
Pookey wasn’t as mean as he looked but he was indeed a natural born killer. Actually he ate a lot of leftovers and seldom got fresh meat but he didn’t care; Pookey was happy.
He swam around in a big school of piranhas and was very popular in his class. All the girls wished he’d take them out and all the guys wanted to hang out with him because Pookey was a really cool piranha with good grades.
He had an old Alpha Romeo he and his Pop fixed up and boy could that thing go. He took a trip up to Boa Vista one time and met a fish that kept him awake all night if you know what I mean.
After that, all Pookey wanted to do was go up to Boa Vista and “practice his Spanish.” It sounded like a good excuse. Portuguese was what most everybody who wanted to get ahead spoke, but the big time was in Spanish. English is a lot harder, and what the heck, the American century is just about over anyway.
Pookey’s Pop wasn’t so quickly fooled though.
“Practice Spanish, eh?” Pop said waving a fin accusingly. “What does she look like?”
“Like a goddess Pop. She has big eyes--”
“She’s a fish of course she has big eyes, all fish have big eyes.”
“Not like this Pop. And watching her swim is like poetry in motion.”
Pop got an odd expression on his face and said, “ you sound like me when I used to talk about your mother.” Pop sighed. “She doesn’t speak Spanish does she?”
“Well, not exactly.”
Pop and Pookey have called it ‘speaking Spanish’ ever since.
It didn’t work out up there in Boa Vista: too far.
Pookey did however take his first wife up there to watch the planes take off. (Not a whole lot of airports in the area to this day). They got to speak a little Spanish before they went home too.
Now they have progeny all the way down to that mother of all rivers called the Amazon.