Ah, the Germans, says Epifanio Ramiriz. How lucky we are. Such good simple men! Great heaps of food, many whores, gallons of tequila, that’s pretty much it. Keeping them both happy and alive is our great mission. But when things go wrong, when there is tragedy, we will spring into action, you and I! You will see, dear friend, my Indio. God forbid, but you will see.
* * *
One week later, just after noon rush, a bicycle messenger from the magnificent Hotel Montalbanejo arrives suddenly at Epifanio’s cart, huffing and puffing with exertion. I have greetings from Epifanio Ramiriz and instructions, he gasps, which you are to follow immediately and flawlessly. Give away all your food, fill your cart with ice, and present yourself at the rear service entrance at the magnificent Hotel Montalbanejo.
Without hesitation Epifanio opens his cart and dispenses the remaining tacos as he trundles a block to the ice house. Poor men take his food with surprise, nodding their heads. Workers are waiting at the ice house where they fill the cart halfway with ice chips, throw in a plastic bag containing something Epifanio takes to be meat, then continue filling it with ice until the cart is almost full. Two men then help him push the overweight cart to the hotel. When the door opens and his cart is pulled through, Epifanio Ramiriz takes him into a small office and shuts the door.
Regrettably it has happened again, he says, despite our best efforts! I must swear you to secrecy. Do you agree?
Of course.
One of our dear kraut consumers has met a tragic end.
I am very sorry to hear that.
We must now proceed with dignity and care. Are you prepared?
Three men from the kitchen staff push the cart into an elevator and ride with them up to the tenth floor, then down the hallway and finally into the room where the dead German lays, splayed nude on the bed and still in relatively good color; the room smells like a bar and the men cluck and whisper. A team has assembled at the bed, which is draped with plastic, and Epifanio Gomez sees a tray of surgical instruments gleaming on a tray nearby. A young woman has locked herself in the bathroom, showering. When she is dressed, Epifanio Ramiriz hands her an envelope. She kisses him on the cheek, and as she walks out of the room makes a backwards glance at Epifanio Gomez. Hmmm, I think she likes you, says Epifanio Ramiriz. A good girl. Give her a look.
He turns back to the body and rubs his hands. Yes, he says to Epifanio Gomez, a tragedy, but also an opportunity. Sometimes the two go together, as you will see. How else does one make up one’s losses? While he confers with one of the kitchen staff, Epifanio steps about the room. On a night stand he spots a business card featuring a beautiful spotted jaguar. When he enters the lavatory he instantly catches a scent. He sees the German toothpaste: The bouquet is peppermint schnapps.
* * *
The team has now split into two small groups, one at the abdomen and the other at the head. The men work quickly. At the head, eyeballs are removed and immersed into vaporous liquid; at the abdomen, liver, heart, lungs and kidneys are excised and likewise immersed. The bag in Epifanio’s cart is quickly produced, and the same anatomy is restored to the corpse.
Two more men arrive from the kitchen, carrying a machine with hoses. They affix a long steel fitting onto the end of one hose, and screw this carefully into one of the dead man’s nostrils; The other hose they place in a bucket on the floor. When the machine starts up it sounds like a vacuum cleaner.
Epifanio Ramiriz takes his arm. The Lord giveth, he says, and then sometimes even when He taketh He giveth some more. The sun goes down and the moon comes up. This, too, is the principle of value-added. They are sucking out his brains.
In the name of God why?
So they can replace it with a plastic bag full of something else. He winks. Here’s the funny part: The machine was made in Germany.
And what’s this, asks Epifanio Gomez, gesturing toward the plastic bag from which the technicians had substituted the dead German’s eyes and organs. Did you kill someone?
We killed a pig, that’s all. Do you know the difference between a three hundred pound German and a three-hundred pound pig?
I guess you’ll tell me.
There isn’t any.
So his relatives receive a pig-man?
A man died. The authorities did an autopsy: Ruptured aorta. He raises his right arm to the square and bows his head. The heart was sound, thanks be to god! Organs were removed, which then benefit mankind in countless ways. These organs were replaced with those of a closely-related species which had been butchered for its delicious meat. Everybody wins except the pig.
The teams complete their work and the body is sewn back together. The kitchen help wraps it in clear plastic and places it in the food cart, which is now heavier than ever. They push it out the room and down the hallway, into the elevator and out through the kitchen, then onto the loading dock where a white van awaits.
Off to the undertakers, says Epifanio Ramiriz. He will certify the body for shipment and remunerate the German coroner. The kitchen will clean your cart with bleach. We must be careful with the Board of Health!
* * *
So much for Mexican hospitality, he tells Teresa next day as she eats a burrito from his cart. This is wrong.
But I hear you performed flawlessly. The concierge was very pleased. He is pleased and I am proud.
At the very moment I decide to shun evil I am up to my armpits in it!
Your problem is not with evil, it is with definitions. Maria Guadalupe will speak perfect English and graduate from a great American university. Perhaps she will be a doctor. Is that evil?
But the way she got there …
Is that her fault?
Of course not.
Then don’t confuse means and ends. The means are the only ones we have, but the ends belong to God.
Which god?
God is god, Indio. There is only room for one.