Fortune Tellers are also writers, so I decided to publish one short story of mine here. :) :)

Why the wrong thing must be done the right way

I

Tião sighed and hung up the phone.

“Nothing yet.”

Teófilo sighed too.

“Nothing?”

Tião sighed again.

“That incompetent has been to Puerto Rico for almost three months and could not find anything yet. Ravier is telling me that he does nothing but move from one cemetery to another searching for a burial that will bring the dead person we are looking for. See how hard it is? That's why it's expensive.”

Teófilo lit a cigarette and sighed.

Tião turned on the television and opened a beer.

II

Teófilo had come to America twenty years ago. Born in Minas Gerais, he was baptized in honor of the patron saint of his native city Teófilo Otoni. He had arrived in America through Mexico, leaving behind in Brazil five ex-wives and five children in precarious state of survival to work his ass off in America and try to give a decent life to his ten dependents. After years working in New Jersey "under the table" in the heavy cleaning, he decided to be a driver. But he found that only by having a CDL, the driver’s license that enabled him to drive a truck, would he actually be able to earn significant money to finally get stability in life. Through a friend he met “Tião of the License”, the most well-known and well-liked man in Newark neighborhood. He would take everyone to the state of Maryland where the laws were milder and illegal aliens were allowed to take a driver's license so they could drive without problems with the police. He knew that Tião only got a driver's license and Teófilo wanted the CDL. But since he had the guy's phone number in his hand and he had twenty years of savings, what was the cost of making a call?

‘How much can you invest?” Tião asked straight.

When Teófilo said the amount, Tião took a deep breath and said that he had something special for him that he did not sell regularly. It had to be someone very, very special to buy that jewel he had at hand. Teófilo licked his lips with Tião's sweet words, and they set up an appointment.

III

The jewel was his friend Ravier, a Puerto Rican who had free access back and forth USA since Puerto Rico had been given to the Americans by the Spaniards, and to all Latinos of this country had been given permission to feel naturalized in the first world.

"Take it easy, dear Teófilo. We already have experience in this field. This is the best deal one can have in a lifetime. Very secure. We've done it before and it does not fail at all. Ravier looks at your physical type, then he flees to Puerto Rico and visits cemeteries until he finds a burial bringing a dead male who is about your age. Then we offer the family members a reasonable amount for the dead's birth certificate. Once he's dead, no one cares to sell the paper. Then you, in possession of this certificate, take your papers from Puerto Rico. As Puerto Rican citizenship is recognized here, you have practically all the rights of an American. Hence the step for the CDL is a very small step further. We offer guaranteed service and prompt delivery. No one from the United States immigration will fly to Puerto Rico to find out if you are yourself or if there is a corpse in a graveyard that uses your name and date of birth. Besides, the Americans do not even know where Alaska is. Much less they will know where are these “pueblos” of Puerto Rico from where Ravier takes these certificates. It is guaranteed!

Teófilo sighed.

"But then Tião, I want to do all the right way. I have good savings for 20 years. When this Ravier finds my dead one I go to Puerto Rico through Mexico to be able to enter here through the front door, with visa and legal papers.”

“Of course Teófilo. This is obvious that will have to be done.”

Twenty days later Ravier found the dead one.

“Now your name is Pablo Ramirez!”

Teófilo smiled as he said good bye Tião to follow the coyote who was the one to guide him through Mexican deserts back to South America. In a month Teófilo reached Puerto Rico and within a fortnight he was ready to return to the USA, through the front door.

IV

Teófilo took the plane back to America feeling as if he really was Pablo Ramirez. On the plane he went to the bathroom three times and repeated his new name by tossing his hair to the side and pulling the longer strands from the nape of the neck under his nose to check if the name matched a stylish mustache. He landed at Newark airport and with confidence did the finger-prints for the American police officer who just stamped his Puerto Rican passport, smiled, and asked no further questions. On the first day he was able to apply for his social security and also schedule his test at Motor Vehicles to get his first driver's license. With a little effort he memorized the answers of the written test that Tião’s friend was able to get through the contacts they had inside that institution. In less than a month he already had his social security, his driver's license and was preparing to exchange it for the CDL to drive a truck and thus increase his income significantly.

V

On his first ride in the city, driving with his driver's license under his new Pablo Ramirez, Teófilo went quiet. By his side was his friend.

"We'll park here for a minute to buy cigars."

The friend warned:

"And you're going to park in front of the hydrant?"

Teófilo looked around.

"There's no police, it's a minute.”

They parked. In a few moments entered and left the bar. The police officer was already signing the ticket. Teófilo ran and asked please.

“Driver's license?”

Teófilo smiled and gave the officer his license. And to showoff he also gave his passport and social security. The police officer looked at his passport, his social security number, and his driver's license.

“Esa és tu dirección?”

Teófilo smiled.

“Direction? The car is parked in the right direction. I just went to the bar to buy a cigarette...”

The policeman raised his eyebrow, gave the ticket, justified himself in good English, and walked away. Teófilo looked at the paper.

"Ticket with court just because I stopped in front of the hydrant for a second?"

His friend lowered his eyes.

"You haven’t even heard what the officer said, have you? He said the ticket is for your infraction and the court is for you to explain to the judge how come your name is Pablo Ramirez, you came from Puerto Rico two months ago and can’t speak Spanish!”

● Puerto Rico was incorporated into American territory in 1898 when it was acquired from Spain through the Treaty of Paris, ending the Spanish-American War and also the Spanish Empire in America. The outcome of the story in my invention, but both the narrated practice and other monkey business exist in any part of the American territory where there is a large group of illegal Brazilians trying to use their famous “Brazilian Little Way”. New Jersey, among other states, is one of the stages to this scenario.

● Under US law, the non-English speaking Puerto Rican cannot get social security. It is assumed in the tale that the character has strong notions of the language since he had lived in the United States for many years. In the original text the character replies in Portuguese to the Officer, which put his situation even in a worst level because under pressure, the English that could have saved him did not come out and the mother tongue spoke louder.

• Dirección in Spanish means address and all driver's licenses in the United States have the address of the holder.

• The state of Maryland until recently allowed people to get driver's license only by asking two proves of residence in the state. Facing these "ease" requirements many “coyotes of driver’s license” of the neighboring states (Hispanics and Brazilians from New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Massachusetts) forged these proves. Today Maryland requires social security for the driver’s license application.