"Alright, Bobbeh, just stand here while I talk to whoever owns this place," Hank said before he walked into the store.
"Welcome to mi store, mi hermano," the owner said as he walked out of the backroom.
"Ya don't have to be so mean, sir," Hank said, clearly not understanding the man.
"Anyway, what can I get you?"
"I'm lookin for a tap and die, and some WD-40," Hank answered.
"Ci, I don't have any on the shelves but there's some in the backroom. Lemme go get em."
"Well gracias, puto. Me cago en tu madre."
"What did you just say, you miho de puta?" The store-owner turned back and faced Hank. "Tu ares muerto!" He pulled out a gun and aimed it at Hank.
"What? Wait, wait, settle down, mi amour," Hank said slowly as he backed out of the store. "Damn Mexican..."
"Dad, I think you were calling him a bastard and that you defecate in his mother. I've been taking Spanish classes," Bobby claimed.
"Now that's nonsense, son. They say everything you say in that language also means something else," Hank said as he and Bobby walked away from the shop, while the store owner continued firing at them, missing each time.
