Wait... what happened? He's been forgotten. When there's no one left in the living world...

Miguel: [after watching Chicharrón disappear] Wait... what happened? Héctor: [sadly] He's been forgotten. When there's no one left in the living world who remembers you, you disappear from this world. We call it the Final Death. Miguel: Where did he go? Héctor: No one knows. Miguel: But I've met him! I could remember him when I go back. Héctor: No. It doesn't work like that, chamaco. Our memories, they have to be passed down by those who knew us in life - in the stories they tell about us. But there's no one left alive to pass down Cheech's stories. [shrugs] Héctor: Hey, it happens to everyone eventually.

Wait. What happened? He's been forgotten. When there's no one left in the living world who remembers you... you disappear from this world. We call it the final death. Where did he go? No one knows. But I've met him. I could remember him when I go back! No, it doesn't work like that, chamaco. Our memories, they have to be passed down by those who knew us in life... in the stories they tell about us. But there's no one left alive to pass down Cheech's stories. Hey, it happens to everyone eventually. Come on, de la Cruzcito, you've got a contest to win. You told me you hated musicians. You never said you were one. How do you think I knew your great-great-grandpa? We used to play music together. Taught him everything he knows. No manches! You played with Ernesto de la Cruz... the greatest musician of all time? Ah, you're funny. Greatest eyebrows of all time maybe. But his music? Eh, not so much. You don't know what you're talking about. Welcome to the Plaza de la Cruz! Showtime, chamaco! Llevelo! T-shirts! Bobbleheads!