Racist Mexican Jokes Novels & Stories

“Maybe, but it would be a lot more than you could afford.” “What’s the difference between you and the prostitutes? Why aren’t they dancing?” “Because they’re Mexicans and niggers,” the dancer said. “We don’t let them dance. They’re gross.” “Little judgmental aren’t you?”

he said, reaching out to touch my cheek. “Don't you dare touch me!” I slapped his hand away. “Ouuuu, feisty. Just how I like it,” he smirked. “You have no idea who you're messing with,” I growled. “If my husband gets a hold of you…” “Husband?” The second Mexican cut me off, as they all started laughing. “We ain't scared of your cuck husband. Why, maybe we oughta take you to him so he can watch us fuck your brains out.”

Some drifted to the floor between us. He didn't move. “I am not a hooker,” I said. He looked at the money on the floor. Then at me. And then he smiled, like I had said something mildly amusing. “No,” he said. “You are just an average American girl who wanted to sleep with two French men.” My mouth fell open. “That is racist.” “It is a fact.” “It is a stereotype.”

“I’d better get back to the other room before I’m missed. I don’t want to insult them…” “‘Them…’?” Diego quirked an amused dark eyebrow. “All those terrifying Mexican people next door?” “It might seem funny to you, but I don’t speak the language and the ones that speak English can’t seem to understand my English and keep on asking me to repeat things… It’s a total nightmare!” Jacqueline heard herself confiding, desperately grateful just to find someone who could follow what she was saying. “I’ll go back there and tell them off immediately. How dare they frighten you into hiding in the billiard-room?” Diego teased her trying to make her smile and calm her down.

I turn to the Mexican guy, ignoring Enzo's mutterings of a crazy woman. I wince at the up-close picture I got of his face. "I'm sorry man but they fucked you up," I told him in Spanish as I sat down. "Fuck you," he spat, not appreciating my honesty. I put up my hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm not here because I want to be. I'm just like you... just not tied up and less bloody, I guess." He scoffed, "No you're not. You're a disgrace to all Mexicans, working for this evil Gringo."

No matter how big her smile had been on her face, no matter how cheerful she had woken up, no matter how perfect her day seemed to be, that was just a lie. Her second class had already finished by the moment the baby that was growing inside her decided to bother her body a little, running to the restroom, feeling like she was going to throw up at any second. She went directly to the restroom that was always used by the most popular ones in her classes. It wasn’t like the girls had something against her, but they just decided to draw their lines as soon as they figured out she was a Mexican, a Mexican girl who had gotten the opportunity to study in the country of almost everyone’s dreams.