Mauro Cardenas - The Revolutionaries Try Again

My assistant insisted on these fripperies and I didn’t. .

Your assistant has a nice. .

She can hear us.

She should hang your favorite quotes from Rubén Darío.

The Veil of Queen Mab?

Remember? During Berta’s class?

Or Facundo singing Happy Birthday to Berta on Halloween.

Berta crying and running out.

Or that time at Kennedy Park when you and Facundo tried to lift me with a plank of wood that happened to have a rusted nail.

Cauterized your wound with Patito.

We continued singing.

Those were the days.

I’m fond of them but. . don’t miss them.

To San Javier you enter but you do exit.

Do you?

The Drool’s in town did you hear?

Called me yesterday, said he wanted to see me, say goodbye.

He’s leaving already?

Your husband didn’t inform you?

We broke up years ago.

How is he? Still hurling his calculator against the wall?

That was after our math or physics final?

Physics.

Problem is the Drool has no physics finals anymore. Did he tell you why he came back?

To see you?

We were supposed to run for office with Julio but. .

Julio didn’t show?

He’s in Miami opening a new nightclub with Cristian.

Minister of finance.

What?

I used to imagine you as minister of finance.

Used to?

I haven’t see you in so long, Leo. I don’t want to get into it.

You never spoke much about. .

You started spending so much with Antonio and Julio, reveling on what you could get away with. I still remember how proud you looked when you told us that you and Antonio had swindled the answers for Who Knows Knows. Rafael and I were dismayed. If my father would have found out he would have pulled me out of that contest.

We won.

I’m sorry, Leo. Who goes to the alumni barbeques by the way? Does Facundo still. .

You celebrated with us.

I was never very good at saying no to either of you. I enjoyed being around you despite. . I used to wish I could be as eloquent as you. Did you know that years ago Antonio came to see me in Paris? Or rather he didn’t come to see me but needed a place to stay. My wife didn’t like the idea of having a high school friend staying with us for a week. We were living in a small dorm room then, and after arguing with my wife about it I realized I didn’t care as much as I thought I did about whether he stayed with us or not. Too late to let him know so I waited for him to call me.

You didn’t pick him up at the airport?

He told you about this?

Didn’t mention it, no.

The information booth at the airport picked a hotel for him. He spent most of his time in Paris shopping for expensive sweaters and leather jackets. He’d purchased a long purple leather jacket with a fur collar at one of those irrational designer stores and he seemed so proud of it, as if at last he could show up anywhere. Dragged my wife and I to those ridiculous nightclubs roped at the front. Had to call his bank long distance so they would approve his purchase of that flashy leather jacket.

— Coffee, Economista?

And Danish cookies for Leopoldo too, yes, thank you.

Sugar cubes on the side would be. .

— You just don’t do that to a friend, Giovanni.

Marta, please.

You should see this Antonio guy he’s so conceited, Marta.

— Antonio’s the one who convinced you to join the apostolic group?

What does that have to do with. .

He convinced me too and look at me now, Marta.

— You two should be ashamed of yourselves. Talking about your friend like that. I’m not bringing you two anything.

Well that was. .

Shut the door?

Let’s try and whisper, okay?

— I heard that!

How does she know about the apostolic group?

Too many tequilas one night and. .

Told her how good we used to be so you could. .

I heard Mazinger still goes to. . can she still. .

I can’t even hear us. Whisper less.

Ever think about Mapasingue?

Come closer what?

Ever think about the hospice Luis Plaza Dañín?

I wish I could tell you that I don’t.

Remember the old lady with the electric makeup?

Sometimes I wish we could. .

Bright red blush on her cheeks and. .

Orange seashell beads around her neck?

That’s the one. Always ready for a cumbia.

She’s the one who pined after the Drool.

Rosita Torres. Listen. When Antonio. . can she hear us?

I think she’s gone.

When Antonio arrived in Paris he called me ten or fifteen times at least. I don’t know how long he waited for me at the airport but with each call I could sense his rising disbelief. I wouldn’t have believed it either. Pick up the phone, my wife said, and tell that individual he’s a thoughtless mooch for trying to impose himself on us for a whole week. I didn’t know how to explain to her that although I hadn’t talked to the Drool in years he was still. . you know Antonio. . he’s rash and. . probably thought what you and I would have thought: my buddy from San Javier is in Paris so of course I’m staying with him. I didn’t pick up the phone and he gave up calling and I left our dorm room without. . didn’t tell my wife. Wasn’t trying to punish her I. . just didn’t know what to say to her. Outside our gray slab of dorm I thought about you and Mazinger and the Drool and Facundo singing about the blue unicorn.

Silvio Rodríguez.

That one soccer game when Antonio received yet another yellow card and tossed it at the referee’s face. .

Flashed him a red card right after.

I walked him off the soccer field and tried to calm him down. He cried like he always did when we were losing and I told him to put his head under the faucets. I stood there watching the water pouring on his head and you know I think my wife must have understood something or maybe she didn’t want any trouble at home because she. . why don’t you invite your friend to stay with us for two or three days, she said. I called Antonio immediately. You know him. He joked around as if nothing had happened.

Why are you telling me all this?

I don’t want you to think I don’t. . I wouldn’t have minded if you had asked me to be part of your administration even though I know we would’ve failed or one of you would’ve succumbed to backdoor deals with El Loco or León. No one we know has done anything to change anything. Can we still call Antonio the son of El Loco?

His monster zits are gone.

Terrible timing now that El Loco’s finally our. .

El Loco messing with you at the Polytechnic?

Watch it. I think Marta voted for El Loco. I don’t anticipate it. El Loco’s too busy recording his rock album and ransacking the country.

El Loco Who Loves.

I wonder if Facundo applied to be his backup singer.

I bet you have to bribe your way to even that position. Listen, Bastidas, I wanted to ask you. .

Anything for you, professor.

You know those scholarships in. .

Indiana University?

Doctorate in economics, yes.

Certainly.

Any chance you might. .

I know the pool of applicants is daunting and the selection process problematic.

Wondering if you. .

— Those scholarships are for students without means!

She’s back.

Don’t tell her you work for León.

I don’t work for León anymore. He fired me after hearing that I was thinking of running for office. You know I’m qualified for those scholarships so I’m not asking for. .

Of course, Leo.

Thought maybe you knew someone who could. .

I’ll definitely look into it.

—

El Loco, Facundo says into his tape recorder, aha, I see my fans have decided to forfend their spirits from steep malaise and show up today, let me guess, fellows, early this morning, before or after the roosters you don’t have hornswoggled you with their squalls, before or after you dreamed of onion crowns and lycanthropists, you wambled out of your indurated mattress, folding your mosquito net equidistantly, without toothpicking it, because your net feels more alive with those sibilant insects embrangled in it, and after you equipped your daughter with the free school backpack she never received, courtesy of El Loco, a free school backpack that contained, as announced in the announcements, one fresh towel, one bar of soap, one translucent soap container, one pocketsized comb, one toothbrush, one tube of mentholated toothpaste, a box of crayons, one pen, one pencil, one eraser, one pencil sharpener, one ruler, and five notebooks of fifty pages each, hey, whosoever brings me one of those collectable bars of soap with El Loco’s initials engraved on it wins another round of songs about la de la / mochila azul / la de ojitos dormilones, and after your daughter swallowed a bowl of free milk that wasn’t fit for human consumption, courtesy of El Loco, and after you proudly stepped out of the free house you never received and hauled the bus your daughter couldn’t take because the latest Paquetazo quintupled the bus fares and quadrupled the price of lentils, courtesy of El Loco, you stumbled upon an immense national protest against the leader of the poor, and although you had nothing to protest against, especially after all the toys your daughter never received during El Loco’s Christmas Telethon, you joined the protest anyway, because who doesn’t need the occasional singalong to Down with El Loco, or rather, Down with All of Them, banging on the casserole you didn’t bring, thousands of pots and pans entuning Down with Everything, and after everyone silenced their farrago of cataclysmic tunes to intake the news that congress had ousted El Loco because of his excessive heteroclitude, no lewd free associations, folks, respect for the deranged man, please, and after you heard we, at last, had scored one luxury, the luxury to choose between three presidents, and by choose I of course mean not choose between the vice president, an elegant lady from Cuenca who does not sip tea from a tea bag, the president of congress, an encultured crapulence from Quito, and El Loco, our brand new leader of the poor, and after you heard your choices were narrowed by one because El Loco had escaped from the presidential palace through the window of the presidential kitchen, rucksack of discretionary funds in tow, you thought to yourself, hey, let’s stop by La Ratonera and ask the fat one to sing us a happy song for a change, let’s demand that he sing us a happy song for a change and you know what, compatriotas, despite the sign here that says today I don’t take requests but tomorrow I will, I will comply and, for you, tonight, on our first Loco Less Night, before the interim president bombards us with more packages of encultured economics, I will sing you a happy song for a change.