PARANÁ PRESS TROPHY '95

By Petrus Ebrium

CHAPTER LISTING

PART 1 - CITY OF LONDRINA
01. DRUNKARD
02. TAKE IT EASY MY BROTHER CHARLES
03. WONDER GEORGE
PART 2 - CITY OF MARINGÁ
04. THE LONG WINDING ROAD
05. NOT EVEN TO THE WALLS I CONFESS
06. HE WHO HAS NO EYEDROPS USES SUNGLASSES
07. WILD HEART
PART 3 - THE TRIP TO PARIS
08. VOYAGE, VOYAGE
09. TEARS AND LAUGHS
10. FEAR OF AIRPLANE
PART 4 - LAND OF THE LUSITANS


	PART 1 - CITY OF LONDRINA

	CHAPTER 1 - DRUNKARD

	The city of Londrina. The "Little London". One fine example of a buzzing metropolis of the state of Paraná. Home to Brazil's finest.
	In a featureless corner of the city, a pub. A small, simple, seedy pub.
	Behind the counter an elderly man in his seventies, known simply as Wilson, looked after his few patrons, cheap beer constantly keeping their throats moist. About five souls, regular consumers of the joint, kept to themselves the tales of misfortunes that now were being diluted along with alcohol.
	One of them in particular was especially sorrowful. It was none other than Pasquim Elias, formerly a figure of the most regal and cultured people society could offer, and currently a figure of the most downtrodden and sad a human can be.
	From his usual seat by the bar, Pasquim drank some cheap whiskey out of a glass that definitely was half empty. In the pause between sips, he moaned bitterly a blues song from the 1940's, a hit in Brazilian radios back then. one which had become the song that told the history of his life. The other patrons paid him no mind, seeing that his singing had pretty much already become commonplace. Furthermore, for many of them, that piece of musical wording told their lives as well.

	"I became a drunkard, in the booze I try to forget that ungrateful wretch that I loved and abandoned me. Stoned by people in the streets I live suffering,. I have no home, no relatives, everything has ended!"
	"Only by the pubs do I find my shelter. Every colleague of misfortune is a good friend. Although they have miseries of their own, they advise me and alleviate my torment."

	"I was once happy and treated even with nobility. I swam in gold, and my beds had the finest linens. And at every step, a good friend who showed faith in me. And in my relatives, I trusted fully."
	"But today, seeing myself in haggardness, I see everything clearly now, the false home that I loved and left crying. Every friend, every relative, was a thief. Abandoned me, then robbed what I loved."

	"False friends I ask you, I beg full of tears: when I die, put in my grave not a single inscription. Allow the maggots to slowly finish this sad drunkard, this saddened heart."
	"I only want that in the grave where I rest, the mad drunkards like me come to deposit their secrets upon my final shelter, and drop their tears of sorrow on their friend's chest."

	After he slowly muttered these words, at least one defiant tear would always roll from the sad man's eyes, pushed by the constant flow of memories of the past. Over the years, though, his eyes simply ran out of tears, and he would cry no more upon his misfortunes. Off with moist eyes, on with moist throats.
	As Pasquim slowly slipped upon a state of comfortable numbness for his body, as the dirty glass became less half empty and more fully empty, the drunkard raised his hand to ask for a full refill. But before he could be attended, the small TV set on the pub displayed some movie credits that were immediately followed by the late night news:
	"Good evening."
	"As the month of November starts, most press companies in our state start preparing themselves to submit their entries to the Paraná Press Trophy 2004. We look forward this year to..."
	Pasquim finally was attended, but all the bartender would pour him would be some pen ink, marking that night's booze consumption upon Pasquim's ever growing tab. That drunkard was leaving for that night. It was time to go to the small dirty place he called home. He knew a long night of memories and bad dreams awaited him, and felt it should be over as soon as he could make it.

	Pasquim's poor excuse for a home was not far from the pub, and so the walk back home was quite short, although full of un-straight lines for his numb feet and control-less legs. Upon arriving at his house, actually more of a shack, he quickly collapsed on the large piece of cloth he called his bed and fell asleep. In his sleep, indeed he dreamt the same nightmares he predicted he would have whenever memories of the "Paraná Press Trophy" rushed back to his mind.
	Yet the end of the dreams that night was quite more troublesome, for Pasquim woke up in the morning filled by an unusual rush of adrenaline on his body. He had developed in earlier times this technique of jump-starting his own body to be completely ready to face perils that he knew would soon come. And that morning, the reaction was triggered by a reflex that not even Pasquim knew how exactly he developed. He knew, before any sign could be shown, that he would have to rise to defend his only treasure. The only thing that mattered to him.
	Arisen, he grabbed a shovel he had nearby and ran outside his dwellings. He left his room and ran to the gate on the brick wall separating his property from the street. Over there he saw a young brat ready to make the wall of his house a canvas, using the spray paint he dastardly carried in his hand. Deftly, Pasquim wielded his shovel above his head and rushed to meet the boy.
	- GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!! - Pasquim yelled as he closed up on the kid and struck him very hard with the shovel. The scared naughty boy got hit a second time and did not wait for the third to run away in full speed, aching from the blows that the old man inflicted on him. Although knowing that his own actions were quite unworthy of praise, never had the boy known or heard about a man who defended his brick wall from vandalism so fiercely.
	Pasquim looked upon the wall of his property, the only thing that remained from his life of wealth before it was all destroyed. It was the memory of days of glory, something that was threatened to be destroyed more than once, but of which the drunkard never lost the energy to defend. The wall was not once subjected to the dirty spray paint of the little brat. His treasure was protected.
	Upon the wall, its original paint was still in top condition. It colored the brick wall in white, and upon this a sign was painted. The smaller words read: "Elias' Press & Journalism Inc.". The big words, with crimson red letters that surely attracted great attention, read: "Winner of the PARANÁ PRESS TROPHY '95".
	Even after those 9 years, those words were intact, still adorning the front of what was now the ruins of the corporate headquarters of Elias' Press & Journalism. In 9 years, rascals with spray paint, writers of graffiti, people looking for places to put posters, painters who intended to put other words in that same wall, none were able to succeed in removing those words from that wall.
	Not it mattered to most people. That particular small street had nothing truly special compared to all the other city streets. Many, many other undefended walls were available all over the place and offering much more notoriety to whatever people would like to pass forward messages in city walls, be it through poster, graffiti or paint.
	But for Pasquim Elias, founder of Elias' Press & Journalism Inc., the words on that wall were the last evidence of days of wealth and glory.
	Having done his duty for that day, Pasquim went back to his primitive house, and finished his troubled sleep. It was always good to have some quality rest before going off to get drunk in the next evening.
	"You are keeping a good fighting fitness", thought the old Pasquim Elias just before his slumber. The month of October was just about to finish. It was quite hectic, that month of October of 2004. It was a month of elections. Nothing is harder to protect than a defenseless wall that can be canvas for propaganda of one politician or another.

	CHAPTER 2 - TAKE IT EASY MY BROTHER CHARLES

	After a good day's rest, Pasquim rose to greet the coming night. He took a deep breath and inhaled the fresh air of a refreshing day turning into night. He looked in the horizon and did not see the sun sinking slowly and beautifully in the distance. He did was not able to see that because he was glaring with awe at his most precious belonging in the world, the wall bearing the PARANÁ PRESS TROPHY '95 sign.
	"How spotless it looks, after all those years! The same could not really be told about you, old Pasquim Elias! No, you have just completed 48 years of existence this October, yet you clearly look 68! Not spotless, but full of spots, and dirty spots they are!".
	This was the second day of November, a Tuesday. Now, Monday he had already spent in the pub closest to his small shack. This tuesday was time to do something a wee bit different than just drinking in the same old pub that he went pretty much every day.
	So Pasquim headed straight to another pub. The third closest to his dwelling. He could just as well have gone to the one which was the second closest, but then again that would simply have been too... quaint. What was different from this pub to the other ones?! Pretty much nothing. The bartender of the place was old Samuel, also pretty much the owner of the joint. The prices of the cheap beverages were pretty much the same. Among the patrons, Pasquim was just as legendary a drunkard as he was in pretty much all seedy pubs in the neighborhood.
	Today, however, it was not old Samuel attending the bar. It was his son, Samuel Jr., twice as young and energetic as his father. Just as Pasquim stepped in the bar, the young man already began pouring some liquor into a glass and readily addressed Pasqim:
	- Hey there, old Pasquim! Say, do you happen to know that story of the Portuguese man who bought a cell phone?!
	- Portuguese man who bought a cell phone?! - Pasquim replied. -What is it about?!
	The young bartender broadened his smile triumphally, as if a great moment of greatness was just about to happen. He went on with his tale.
	- Well, you see, this Portuguese man had just bought a cell phone and walked around with it everywhere. One day his phone ringed. He just saw the caller ID and saw that it was his wife Maria. The he answered the phone and said...
	Before the young man could finish his sentence, Pasquim interrupted him and put on a very good imitation of a Portuguese accent, and then finished the youngster's sentence:
	-... Oh, Maria!!! But how in blazes did you find me with my secretary in a motel room?!
	Then the bartender's face of triumph collapsed. And just as his obvious deception became clear, a patron nearby bursted out laughing at the situation he had just heard. After laughing hardly at the poor guy's deception, the laughing patron addressed him.
	- Most certainly you did not truly think, young Samuel, that you could POSSIBLY know a good Portuguese joke BEFORE our old friend Pasquim Elias?! You know just as well as I how much the knowledge of this fellow drunkard of mine goes far!
	Taking then his glass of booze from the bar, Pasquim and his friend toasted for the good times sake and drank some non-quality liquor, laughing at the youngster who once thought he could outwit a wise old wolf.

	Merry drinking is something that eventually ends up with quite a complicated problem: the emptiness of the glasses. So the patron that drank alongside Pasquim soon took both of their glasses for the bartender to put on a nice refill. And just as he addressed the working youngster, curiosity struck him:
	- Hey Samuel! Fill 'em up! And by the way, why in blazes did ya tell Pasquim that joke a while ago?! Who told it to you?!
	-Who told me?! Actually it was a strange chap yesterday. The guy simply came, asked for a soda, I think, and then told me the joke just as I handed him one.
	Upon hearing this bit of conversation, Pasquim quickly froze up in thought.
	"This event the kid just told has something amiss to it!"
	He quickly went to question the boy further:
	- Now, come on, Samuel! The guy just came here, asked for, what, a soda, and then just told ya a joke?! And a Portuguese joke, even?! You certainly must tell me what this chap looked like!
	- What he looked like?! Well... a black man, a bit tall, quite thin... wore a pair of glasses... I would say it was a man in his thirties. Certainly some chap who never showed up on our joint here. Come to think of it, quite a strange fellow, wouldn't ya say?! Anyway, someone you know, old Pasquim Elias?!
	- Someone I know?! Hm.... no, not really. I mean, your description could fit a whole lot of fellow drunkards I know! Guess it was just some guy who really likes to tell lame jokes, I figure.
	- Ah well, you must have got that right. Heck, I give service to drunkards all day. What else could possibly be strange to me nowadays?!
	- Just out of curiosity, did he tell the joke imitating a funny Portuguese accent?
	- Imitating, yes. Funny, no. Not in the slightest. Come to think of it, the fellow did not have the persona to tell any kind of joke at all! Then again, Pasquim old buddy, you damn well know that no man in Brazil could ever imitate the accent of the Portuguese better or funnier than you!
	- Why, then I guess my standing as best imitator of the Portuguese accent is not threatened yet!
	- Not at all, Pasquim! Maybe if you met the guy, you could teach him a thing or two.
	But Pasquim thought deeply if it was a certain someone he already had met many times: "Black Man! Could it be him?! No, wait, he said he wore glasses, and was in his thirties... no, not him.... who the hell could this fellow be?! Could this drunken life finally have started to take away my marbles?!"
	Pasquim took a sip from his now-full glass. Every other sip that followed came from an interval rather unusual to Pasquim's tendencies. He drank very slowly from his glass, and his fellow drunkards could easily notice such, though none commented on the fact. Old Pasquim Elias did his best to appear as natural as possible, and that was a successful endeavor as no word was said that night about the fact that Pasquim drank only about four or five glasses that night before going "home" to sleep. It was hardly noticed these days, but Pasquim ended up sober that night.
	And soberly he slept, having dreams filled with thoughts of wonderment for what would happen in the days to come.

	Another day, another morning, and Pasquim slept. That day he woke early. And rested, as no one dared to threaten his legacy in that particular time. However, Pasquim knew that there was only one thing that would be advisable for him to do that day.
	And that advisable thing was to go get some booze at the pub. The nearest pub, the one he was the most common regular.
	The pub opened by early evening, and Pasquim was customer number one to set foot in it. It was a Wednesday, a day where the patrons should start arriving in mass. In anticipation of the coming weekend, a good drunkard starts doing his things  in two days advance. Served by the same cheap whiskey he always treasured, Pasquim took his common seat by the bar, saw the coming and going of people, and once more drank slowly.
	What a night that was! Pasquim quietly drank in the corner, patrons came in and out, at times the famous drunkard sang his trademark song, and several black men went to the pub to have a bit of a good time. Some were thin yet were not in their thirties. Others wore glasses, but actually were pretty short. Another one was actually a tall, thin man with large glasses, but not only he seemed like an old man, he ordered some very strong booze and after a few shots seemed to laugh at anything.
	Intrigued by this last particular character, Pasquim addressed the drunken fellow.
	- Howdy, partner! Say, do you happen to know the tale of that man from Lisbon who went to visit Rio de Janeiro?!
	To this warming welcome, the man just replied:
	- Hello... howsh you doi'ns thsh days? ... Youj knw me? Wsha dat ding 'bout de man who went from Lishbon to Riosh?...
	Then he collapsed, drunker than a fat pig, from his seat. Not only was that man not at all the one Pasquim expected to meet, he was the "damned drunkard of the day", in Pasquim's own private slang. He was that drunk guy who had a little bit too much and now had to be taken care of somehow, so that he can leave the pub in acceptable fitness and at the same time not disturb the other patrons. Not only did this guy give trouble to the bartender, the man who got the cash from the booze at the price of being he who also had to take care of all the poor old drunken men who could advance or hinder his business, but also the good Pasquim Elias had to give a friendly hand to his good friend at the bar and help see the man to safety outside the hallowed halls of the pub.

	And so the night went by. Pasquim was the first to arrive, Pasquim was the last to leave. He handed a friendly hand to his bartender friend to close the place, who could not hide anymore his curiosity:
	- Thanks for the help, good friend Pasquim Elias. But tell me this one thing: you had only a meager count of... five? Yes, five glasses of cheap whiskey. That quite certainly is far less than your usual count of ...one!
	- Far less than one? Do you not mean more?!
	- No... I meant less than one... less than one bottle!
	- Ah! Yes! That is far less, wouldn't ya say?! He he he!
	- So I guess by now you shall indulge me with your explanation.
	- Of course I will! I was just waiting you to ask! The reason is quite logic, as you will see. As a good close friend, my chap Wilson, you are undoubtfully aware of my constant gambling sprees. And as a good gambler yourself, no doubt you know that the secret for success in such games with lady luck involves knowing one's own power animal, as the best astrologers and self-help specialists like to say. Now, would you not believe, my good buddy Wilson, that this very night I had a dream of fortune?! I was in a very dense jungle, and suddenly I found myself in a great clearing amidst the many trees. And it was there that I saw quite a terrific scene: nine ostriches were running away from a group of seven lions, and the lions themselves were on the run for their lives because five elephants were running towards them.
	- I see, Pasquim. But how would you then know which one of these was your power animal?!
	- That is precisely my point! I have thus decided to spend the next evenings drinking the set amount of glasses of whiskey, which is my favorite beverage as you very well know. Having had five full glasses, I now expect that in my dreams I shall have a revelation whether or not the elephants are the ones who will shape my fortune. I shall conference with them this night, in my sleep. I sure hope they show me a clear path!
	- Very good, my friend Pasquim! I sure hope a streak of good luck comes your way! Very well, let us all head home then. Until later, good buddy!
	- Until tomorrow, my good chap Wilson!
	And so they both went home. Of course, even though having a dream with animals could help his gambling needs, Pasquim had to resort to a quick story to put at ease all the questions the bartender could have asked him if he had spoken his true reason for drinking little that evening. His true reason was that he did not want to be drunk if something important were to happen, or if he were to meet someone important. Of course, important what and important who were questions he could not answer to even himself by now.
	With a mind full of doubts, Pasquim went back to his miserable dwellings, laid himself down on his dirty pile of cloth he called a bed, and put himself to sleep. And when Pasquim slept that night, much to his surprise, he dreamt with elephants.

	The next day beckoned. And Pasquim arose, sober yet once more, to a morning in which nothing occupied his mind other than the coming evening. And the thing that he was thinking was not any of the elephants he dreamt. Well, maybe one of those elephants, one that looked for some reason like Elizabeth Taylor. And quite frankly he always had associated her with camels. Go figure at the wacky things a dissatisfied mind can come up with.
	As long as the sun was showing himself to the people of Londrina, Pasquim could just not wait for the evening to come. He was so nervous for whatever could come that his hands even trembled. Not only because of his anxiety, but also because the lack of any gargantuan dose of alcohol in the past few days did such bizarre effects to his drunkard Physique. Pasquim just could not wait for the day he would develop Parkinson's disease. When that day came, he would have official lease and freedom to tell all those many Parkinson's disease jokes he learned through his life as a drunken man.
	At long last, the sun went down. After cursing the daylights savings time that made it not go away anytime earlier, Pasquim went once more to the seedy pub he called home. It definitely was much more comfortable, even with all those cockroaches the size of dinosaurs around, than the bare stone and rough cloth he laid on every night near his beloved wall. 
	Cockroaches, by the way, were an object of a complex relationship of love and hate for Pasquim Elias. As a intelligent drunken man, Pasquim knew cockroaches were dirty and could cause human beings, including himself, to get sick in a large number of ways. On the other way, it always was a very good means of defense against unwary people who would think about daring to defile Pasquim's beloved wall. For many reasons, many people who otherwise would fix posters or draw stuff steered clear of his wall when cockroaches walked on its surface. On the last month, October, the bartender Wilson did ponder carefully about hiring a team of pest control specialists to put an end to the roaches who scared his patrons and hurt his earnings. Pasquim Elias had to use the best of his fast talk skills to convince the man not to do so until November. Pasquim could not tell him the real reason behind his advice, for said reason was to not interrupt the continuum flux of roaches in the area who could eventually be helpful if Pasquim had to resort to harsher methods than merely using his shovel to scare away those who would damage his precious wall and its sign. That month of October of 2004, month of elections, was truly hectic for the old drunkard, and in more than one day he used this unorthodox weapon to defend what he held dear.
	Roaches or no roaches, Pasquim went to the pub. Upon arriving, Wilson poured him a glass of his favorite beverage and readily separated six more glasses, telling Pasquim that he knew how much he would drink in that night. Laughing, Pasquim delved into his first sip in the first glass. He drank it slowly, knowing that he should be in the best of his faculties should they be needed.
	It was by the time that he was halfway down his second glass that the first black man to enter the bar that day appeared. Pasquim looked at the man carefully, in anticipation. But the fellow was a short, stocky, fat young man who wore not glasses, but a very silly purple and pink hat. And instead of telling a joke, it was another patron in the bar who told a joke to him about that very silly hat he was wearing. Pasquim was quite a curious man when the subject was jokes, but he paid little attention this time to the joke the patron told. Not only because his mind was elsewhere, but also because he was too old to make fun of people's hats. No matter how silly they looked.
	- By the powers! - muttered Pasquim under his breath - will whomever I wait to come actually come?! Is my whole wait pointless?! Should I just chalk this one up for experience and as an assessment of how nuts I have finally become?! Or will I wait some more?! And to think I could be drinking as much as I pleased, were it not for this damned waiting!
	Pasquim returned to his drink. He finished the second and third glasses quicker than he originally intended. He felt as silly as that purple and pink hat to wait forever for a thin and tall black man wearing glasses who would order a soda and tell the bartender a joke.
	Until he reached his fourth glass. Midway through it, a tall and thin black man wearing glasses entered the pub.
	And he looked like he was in his early thirties.

	The thin and tall black man did not look very comfortable as he entered the pub. He definitely looked like the sort of bloke who generally does not visit such joints. He stepped inside, took of his glasses, swept away some sweat on his forehead, and with a very tired look addressed the bartender.
	- Hello, sir. Could you please hand me a ... oh well, hand me a glass of Vodka, if you would be so kind.
	- Vodka? Sure. Which brand would you prefer?
	- Bah, anything will do. The cheapest, if you will.
	The bartender Wilson grabbed the nearest bottle of vodka around and poured its contents of the nearest glass he could find. Pasquim noticed it was one of those six glasses he had separated for his own use, but he did not care about this detail as in that night he just drank from same glass all the time. The truly noteworthy aspect of it was merely the fact that Pasquim paid such attention to this trivial detail that day, something he himself thought truly amusing.
	After taking the first sip of the beverage, the man placed on his face a certain look of embarrassment and spoke some words to the bartender. He looked as if he felt very silly saying those things.
	- Ahm... by the way... have you ever heard that... uh... joke... about the Portuguese lad who... - he paused to think for a while -  who... who saw some horse dropping on the sidewalk and wondered what it was?
	The bartender raised an eyebrow. He looked at the embarrassed man, then he looked at Pasquim Elias. Pasquim had his eyes wide open looking at the man, and the bartender did not really know what to do with the situation. He actually knew that old joke since he was a kid, but he just shook his head and waited to see what that weird fellow would say.
	- Oh... well... you see, these two Portuguese guys were walking down the sidewalk until one of them saw in the middle of the street something that looked like some horse droppings. He then said to his friend, - he then imitated a really, really lame Portuguese accent -  "Look! Are those horse droppings on the street?", and his friend said "I don't know. It sure looks like horse droppings". The other replied, "It smells like horse droppings". And the other Portuguese then took some of it in his hands and said "It feels like horse droppings". He then put some of it in his mouth and said "It tastes like horse droppings". Then his friend concluded: "Most certainly, these are horse droppings!". They both sighed in relief, saying "Whew! Good thing that we did not step on it by accident!".
	The bartender looked at his newest patron with a look of near puzzlement. He opened a half smile out of pure courtesy, and grunted a short imitation of a laugh as convincing as the fellow's Portuguese accent. Even if he took daily lessons with Jerry Seinfeld he would not be funny. Of course, if only the man did not look so uncomfortable, maybe he could pull off some sort of funny antic. But not on this day and this particular seedy bar.
	So the strange fellow took a deep breath, drank his vodka in a single gulp, coffed after intaking that strong portion of liquor, then thanked the bartender for the service, paid him and prepared to leave for the next pub where he would try the next joke.
	But before he left, the man heard someone call for him.
	- Hey! You, over there! Don't leave yet, come here!
	He looked back and went to see who called him. Before him stood this elderly man, with a white skin dotted with wrinkles and signs of age, gray hair that seemed to be eager to turn completely white, and a nose turned red from constant exposure to liquor. Specially noteworthy was his a huge round and flaccid belly that looked so filled up that more than once people thought that, if someone attached a tap on the man's navel and opened it, beer would flow out of it.
	- Hello, uh... sir. Can I (sigh) help you with anything?
	- Why, of course my good chap! I just heard your tale and wondered if, by any chance, you happen to know about that Portuguese fellow who went to study the principles of logic at his local library?
	Rather tired and a bit impatient, the man almost said "no", but then again he chose to indulge the drunkard in his wish.
	- Never heard of it.
	- Never heard of it?! Oh well, let me tell you then.
	The newcomer could not help but notice that, as soon as that smelly drunkard said such words, the whole pub seemed to start looking at what he had to say. "Great. What in blazes could all these drunken men be wanting now?!", he thought to himself. Then the fat smelly lover of booze began his speech:

	-You see, back there in Lisbon, my good old fellow Joachim was reading some books in the library. Then, amidst his studies, through the door came his friend from many years Clint, who got quite puzzled at seeing his chap reading so many books. Generally, Joachim only ever watched soccer matches and drank beer. So Clint went over to ask him what in blazes he was putting his mind into.
	What happened next was the finest imitation of a Portuguese accent the newcomer had ever heard. The drunkard's imitation put his into a position of true amateurism and silliness.
	-"Season's greetings, my good old fellow Joachim. In the ease of this so fortuitous an event, I cannot stop my old seasoned tongue from inquiring thee as to the proceedings of thy reading!"
	"The gods be praised, it is none other than my dear friend Clint! Quite blessed winds bring thee over from Porto to these hallowed halls of knowledge! Why, I have been just mulling over these days upon the intricate science of logical thinking. Quite an exquisite art, I must say."
	"The arts of logic?! Pray, my loyal comrade, couldst thou share some tidbits of knowledge with this here mere peasant of humble intellect?!"
	"Quite certainly, lad! For starters, let me ask thee this: dost thou happen to own at thine house and aquarium, as was the case in the days of yore?"
	"Why, honorable chap, indeed I do keep to myself an aquarium at my place!"
	"Thusly, quite logically, I would suppose thou keepest inside of it several varieties of the most beautiful goldfish at this side of the river Tejo, am I not mistaken?!"
	"Thou mistaketh thyself not, great Portuguese scholar Clint!"
	"And, in the maintaining of the fish's good health, most certainly thou wouldst require a fair bit of aid in the feeding of the sweet creatures, as well as in the cleaning of the hallowed glasses they call home. I trust I am still not misguided?"
	"Misguided?! Thou art not indeed! Good help is always a blessing when facing the perilous activities of goldfish welfare!"
	"In so happening, I would suppose that the encouraging to keep thine everyday struggle in these activities must come from someone near thee such as, say, thine wife?"
	"Ah, Mariah, my dearest! The greatest gift the gods have placed in my humble life! She is the one who indeed lends me her delicate hand in the efforts of everyday aquarium caretaking!"
	"Ah, and in such a beautiful affirmation of unspent love, I am able to surmise that thou art, quite probably, a heterosexual man, is it not the fact?"
	"Why, yes good Joachim, indeed this is the sexual orientation I have a preference in keeping!"
	"Hast thou understood now good Clint, thee who exemplifies the finest Portugal has to offer? As thou hast been able to see, I have used the fine art of logical thinking to correctly ascertain one particular aspect of thine life! Such is the power of logic!"
	"My good chap Joachim, thou hast made me see a new aspect of enlightenment! Following thine fairly fine example, I shall immediately browse this here fine library of Lisbon and study myself about the fine science of logical thinking! I thank thee deeply for thy insight!"
	And so, Clint set off to look in the library for some more books to carry on himself his own studies about how logical thinking works. And after he was midway through reading all the books he had gathered, Clint saw another good friend of his, Manuel, enter the library of Lisbon. They promptly greeted each other, and Manuel got curious as to what his friend was doing reading all those books.
	"Hello, my good friend Clint! Say, what art thou reading about in these many books?!"
	"Why, friend Manuel, I have been researching about the fine art of logic!"
	"Logic?! Then maybe thou canst tell me a bit of what thou hast learned?"
	"Quite certainly! Say, for example, dost thou happen to own an aquarium at home?"
	"An aquarium?! Why no, I do not."
	"Then most certainly thou art a big fat queer homosexual guy!"

	And as the drunkard told the joke's punchline, the pub exploded. In laughter.

	All the patrons and the bartender laughed very hard. He had done it again. Once more that patron had made the pub he went almost every night laugh quite a bit. Everyone laughed and cheered from the clever Portuguese joke of the fellow.
	All patrons except for the newcomer, who instead of laughing simply opened his eyes very wide in a clear face of pure perplexity. He could not believe what he had just heard. Even worse, he could not believe he heard what he heard from such a smelly drunkard who clearly had spent most of his days drinking all the booze he could find.
	It was time for the newcomer to ask the drunkard the question that, deep down, he was afraid the drunkard would be the one to answer affirmatively.
	- Say, are you... are you.... are you Pasquim Elias?!
	- Why, of course I am Pasquim Elias!!! How did you guess?!
	Pasquim knew how he guessed, but preferred to not let the amazed man know this yet.

	The thin black man with glasses looked quite shocked and started to tremble. He reached out his shaking hand to greet Pasquim.
	- Hello. My name is... is... I am Charles. Charles Silva Losetti. I am very... it is a pleasure to meet you.
	- Take it easy my brother Charles. Take it easy my brother of shade.
	Charles had difficulty taking it easy. He never thought the method he was advised to use to find that man would work. And he most certainly did not think the man whose help he badly needed looked so much like a man who could not help even himself.
	The nervous Charles pulled out from one pocket a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from another pocket. As he placed the cigarette in his mouth and prepared to light it, Pasquim Elias protested:
	- Wait! Wait! What do you think you are doing, you very impolite man?!
	- Uh?!... What .... what you mean?!
	- I mean that you, youth of this generation, surely have lost all respect for good manners! Take a look at what you are about to do! You are about to light a smelly and polluting cigarette  in a closed room, full of good people who have come here simply o have a good time and relax. You will simply cause not only damage to your own lungs, but you will also revolt the nostrils and equally hurt the lungs of people who are older than you and have spent all their life sweating and working the best part of their lives. Think at all the pollution these people have endured simply to live their honest lives! Think at how much they had to breathe in and breathe out in order to accomplish the many tasks their bodies were required to perform. I do think you should have at least the courtesy of asking me if I would mind you smoking, seeing that probably it will be me who will carry the burden of polluting most of lungs so my comrades do not have to put up with this stench!
	Charles got very embarrassed. He truly did not remotely think he would receive such harsh lessons of good manners in this seedy pub from the drunkard he was looking for a long time. And so, Charles readied himself to calm his nerves with something other than a cigarettes and asked out of courtesy if Pasquim would mind his cigarette, already ready to hear a "no".
	- I am sorry... Do you mind if I smoke?
	- No, not at all! In fact, could you spare me one of those?

	Charles just stood there, quite puzzled. What in blazes could be going on there? Was this truly the man he was looking for to aid him?! He did not seem barely able to show any hint of an air of being serious. Could he, thusly, be able to do any serious kind of work?!
	And as such thoughts raced through Charles' troubled mind, Pasquim just grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his amused fellow and took one to smoke. "I pretty much have this effect on people", he though to himself.
	Upon seeing the drunkard lighting up a cigarette, Charles himself remembered he had a vice to sustain and lighted one up himself. As the quite toxic mixture of vodka and nicotine flowed through his body, he calmed himself a bit. It was time he told Pasquim why in blazes he had gone to such a seedy place.
	- Mr. Elias...
	How long it has been since Pasquim heard someone call him "Mr. Elias"!
	- ... you see, I have come here to ask for your help in a certain... enterprise I need to endeavor... well, at least if I can call it an "enterprise"... well...
	- ...well...well...well...WELL! Well, well, what is it that you wish of me anyway! Are you going to be so nervous all the time?! You are certainly wasting my time of precious drinking! - Pasquim complained to the nervous lad Charles, then took the last sip of ooze from his glass. - Hey, bring another glass of whiskey here, good chap Wilson! And another of vodka as well. This chap here needs it!
	Charles truly felt he needed one indeed. As the veteran bartender Wilson delivered two glasses for these eccentric patrons, the younger one quickly thanked him and took a mighty large sip from his vodka. Sighing, the elder took a quick sip and again confronted the man who seemed to require his help.
	- You know, youngster, I cannot simply guess what it is you need my help for. So would you spare me all this trouble and just tell me what kind of journalistic trouble has come your way?!
	- Surely, of course. What happens is... hold on! But I did not say it was a journalistic matter.
	- Drat! Indeed, you did not. That is truly a bad thing, because it does seem that I was wrong. I can indeed guess what it is you need of me. Quite silly for me to say I couldn't, would you not say?!
	- Yes, it seems you can guess what it is I came here for! But, that is quite amazing! How do you do it?!
	- Oh, bloody hell! Will you just tell me what it is you came here for and be done with it?!
	- Right, right. You see, I am a journalist for the "Paraná Daily" newspaper, in the branch of the city of Maringá. When I was but a starting journalist, I yearned to make good journalism and make the world a better place. However, as it seems to be, making the world a better place is not something that renders money in the short run, maybe even not in the long. No, all that newspapers these days seem to want are news about who cheated who, whose blood has been spilled in the wee hours of the night, what bloke pronounced what heresy to which preacher, what kind of clothes...
	- Could you stop right there?! First, I do know how much the press these days is unworthy of praise. Second, there is place for only one sad bitter drunkard in this joint, and I am not ready to give up my reign so soon. So I guess you should stop beating around the bush.
	- Very well. My quest for quality journalism has eraned me a fairly bad reputation among the main board of editors, since I tend to send them news that actually do not sell very well. Then this bad relationship got worse. Quite recently, in an access of madness and drunkardness about the current state of things, I wrote a bombastic article about some illicit deals a certain councilman of the city, councilman Cleston to be precise, had shown himself to be conducting. The article has been published, the newspaper sold some additional copies that day, and all was well for a while. Certainly, I do believe you can guess what happened later, though.
	- Surely. Councilman Cleston got quite angry at the statements people read on the newspaper and has throw all but the kitchen sink upon the newspaper and the writer of the article, you yourself.
	- Indeed. A rather complex lawsuit has been placed against the newspaper. One that, if Cleston wins, will cost both the newspaper an me quite a bit of cash, as well as my job. It will also be my death as a Journalist, for would care to have me among the staff of any newspaper?!
	- And you are having problems with the evidence to support your article, I figure?
	- You guessed right, yet again. The thing is, although I have had access to a very good source of information about this subject, I actually do not have the real evidence to back the accusations. I mean, pretty much any intelligent being in Maringá knows the councilman is a crooked fellow, and only the truly skeptic and the cynical believe the article is not true. Unfortunately for me, as a defender of true democracy, I can only assume that the court would be skeptic if politics were perfect. But since they are not, I believe the court will be cynical. Thusly, now I seek help to arm myself for both these occurrences. And this what I need your help, as I feel you have already guessed.
	- Quite right. The I have just one question for you at this time: Parliament?!?!?!
	- Parliament?! Parliament what?!
	- Parliament?! You smoke "Parliament" cigarettes? What kind of horrible taste do you have?! I mean, these cigarettes are expensive and have an awful taste! Here, let me show you what you could get with one third of the cash you spent in that pack of "Parliament"!
	And as he saw Pasquim buy from the bartender a pack of cheap cigarettes that he thanked he had never seen before, Charles lowered his head as he felt that the drunkard he had just asked for help was more interested in gaining some nicotine for free at his expense. What was he thinking, asking that dirty man for aid?!

	Saddened and troubled by all the problems he had to face, Charles stood quietly by the bar, his hand by his face ready to wipe away a tear that he felt was soon forming.
	- Hey, Charles, what is it with the long face?! Why are you so sad?! I know how I can help you get back on your feet. Don't worry.
	Charles' eyes looked once more at Pasquim, the drunkard who looked at him with a very friendly smile.
	- Really?! How can I improve my situation then?!
	- First, you have to do something very simple...
	Simplicity. That would be all Charles wanted.
	- ... you have to give up that pack of "Parliament" cigarettes for something with the same horrible taste and only a third of the price! Take a cigarette from this pack here. Come on.
	Charles sighed as he tossed away the "Parliament" cigarette he had just smoked and lit up one of those cheap ones Pasquim gave him. And indeed, his troubled mind just paired up with a pretty bad bit of nicotine.
	- Ah, the not-so-fresh feel of cheap cigarettes! Can you feel as both your brain and lungs complain at you horrid choice at how to damage your health?! Yes, of course. In desperation to keep the vice up, you simply go get the cheapest source of immediate relief from all your worries. And behold! The cheapest solution is pretty horrid, even worse than "parliament" cigarettes! And yet, as your body fills up with toxins, you get to feel that truly, a balance must be achieved between your gilt and your relief from the gilt. Because if you don't, your money shall run out as you choose expensive toxins over cheap ones.
	- What in blazes are you talking about?! Was this supposed to be a glimpse of wisdom?! I do not understand?!
	- Yes, it was.
	Charles looked puzzled.
	
	- Take it east my brother Charles. Take it easy, my friend. Even old drunkards in seedy pubs have wisdom that can be useful to you, but that cannot always be understood fully. You must have patience and a quite good amount of trust in yourself and your drunkard friends if you wish to succeed in your endeavor. But we have talked enough for this night!
	Pasquim opened his greasy wallet, the most worn and dirty wallet Charles ever saw. He took from there some cash to pay his part of the tab and also took from it a thorn paper card that he gave to a mesmerized Charles.
	- Be at this place tomorrow. Let's arrange to meet at 14:00, I hate to wake up early. You can find the address in the card easily, just seek the painted sign written "Paraná Press Trophy '95".
	And Pasquim left the pub. Charles stayed behind for a few extra glasses of vodka. He felt as if he needed those.

	CHAPTER 3 - WONDER GEORGE

	Pasquim left the pub to go back to his nice little shack near the wall he prized so much. But first he felt he had something important to do.
	"Should I call him now"?!" Pasquim thought as he headed to a phone booth.
	Albeit a drunkard, Pasquim had fine etiquette. It might have been a bit rude for him to call whomever he was about to call at that hour in the middle of the night. So Pasquim decided to hold the suspense for some time and headed straight back to the place he called a home.

	Morning and afternoon came, and Pasquim arose at about 13:40 that day. Once more he felt a startling urge to wake up quickly. As a man who trusted its own instincts, he took his shovel with him as he distanced from his rather uncomfortable cloth bed. Maybe another head would require bashing this day.
	Sure enough, as he reached his treasured wall, a menace appeared in the horizon. It was a teenager, aged 17 or 18 maybe, carrying with him several posters and a very large pail full of glue. Pasquim readied his trusty shovel, feeling that it was time yet again to defend his treasure.
	He saw the boy glue at another wall in the street one poster. It was one with a Xerox of a poster of Gandhi. It was a invitation for the "India Beats", a rave party full of disco and electronic music all night and morning at full volume, with the main attractions being "DJ Electrokrishna", "DJ Shivas regal", and the main attraction was, sure enough, "DJ PsychoGandhi". Pasquim truly felt sorry that the youth of this generation preferred this kind of music at their night parties than the glorious samba and Bossa Nova of his own times. "Poor lads. Would rather shake their bodies at the beatings of some sound boxes instead of a nice and warming bench and guitar. Certainly the good old days are gone!".
	Surely enough, there the boy came, ready to paste a nice poster of Gandhi at Pasquim's sacred wall. As he approached, Pasquim called out for the youngster:
	- Say, my good chap, I am an old man who never really has gone to a rave party. Mayhap you could describe how one is for me?
	- Sure, old timer! It's a great thing, with music pumping it up the whole night, the mind blazing back in forth in a great beat, and ou just keep pumping and shaking and twirling and twisting...
	- ...wait a second kid! I am but an old geezer here and I guess I do not know half of the words you youngsters use these days. Maybe what you mean is... it feels pretty much like being bonked really hard in the head and seeing the starts make turns in your head?!
	- Hey, sir, maybe you can say so, yeah. Why not?!
	Then Pasquim opened a wide, devious smile. His eyes narrowed, and his face could be described as a pretty diabolic one to whomever never met before the smart old man. He displayed before a rather uneasy teenager a truly outstanding show of shovelmanship, making moves with his sturdy shovel that no action film actor could perhaps emulate. After this display, the old man's voice became very threatening as he said to the boy:
	- Care to go to a rave party right now, little punk?! Because my shovel likes to party with those who glue posters at the walls of other people!
	The kid's eyes widened at the old man's words. And just as Pasquim lifted his shovel in an attack posture, the boy shrieked just before turning around and running away. Pasquim finished his theatrical presentation with a truly sinister laugh: "BWAHAHAHAHAHA! COME BACK WHENEVER YA CARE TO PARTY!!!!".
	Dropping his trusty shovel down, Pasquim laughed a bit, this time normally and non-threateningly, and turned around to wait for Charles to arrive soon. But just as he turned around, he saw Charles had already arrived at the scene, and his eyes were as wide as those of the teenager.
	- My, my! It is none other than my good friend Charles! How are ya doing, buddy? Care to feel like you're in a rave party also?! He he!
	Charles was not amused. He was frightened, actually.
	- Take it easy, my brother Charles! Surely you are aware at this point of the meaning of this particular wall to me. Otherwise, you would not have sought my help, I figure!
	- You... you actually were going to kit the kid with a shovel?! Just because he would glue a poster on this... this wall?!
	- Yes, I was going to hit him with my shovel. This wall is very important to me, and I shall defend it to the very end! If you care to know, though, it has not always been like this...
	- No?! How was it in the old days, then? What made you start to want to hit people with a shovel?
	- Well, in the old days, I actually had a sword! And a big one, too! Boy, you should have seen me wielding that thing! It was truly scary for most punks. But then, I ran out of cash for my daily liquor, so I sold the sword to some medieval enthusiast. I thought about buying an axe, to keep the feeling of being able to hack and slash people who threatened my treasure, but it just wasn't meant to be so.
	- I see. You just figured a shovel would be cheaper than an axe, and would do the same effect.
	- No! I simply did not buy an axe, I convinced a fireman to lend me the fire department's axe for me to use to help the community in better ways. Eventually I just thought the axe could render a fair bit of cash, so I sold it too.
	- What?! So you sold something that was not yours?! I cannot believe it! You then finally bought the shovel with the cash?!
	- Well, no, I just took the shovel from a construction site.
	- I see. You probably convinced the workers to "lend" you their shovel, as well?!
	- Not really. I just took it while no one was looking.
	Charles thought to himself: "Great. I asked for help from a drunkard who is also a fencer and a thief. I am doomed!".
	- Pasquim Elias, I cannot believe the situation I am in! I have a terrible problem to solve. How can I possibly trust a... a thief, a fencer, a drunkard! How can I possibly count on your help?!
	- For one simple reason: because I am the only one in the state of Paraná who can help you with this problem.
	Charles shivered. He probably was right.
	- And how can you say that with so much certainty?!
	- Because only the man who won the "Paraná Press Trophy '95" can help you with the problems arising in the search of evidence to prove the gilt, or even frame if need be, the corrupt councilman Cleston of Maringá.
	- Maybe this man could help me, were he not such a drunkard thief!
	- This man can ONLY help you because he is a thieving kind of fellow. I do recognize that the "drunken" aspect of it is surely something that does not help.
	Charles had by now quite an angry face. He did not know what to say at this point. Pasquim had some more to say, though:
	- Anyway, dear Charles, this whole tale up to this point can only draw me to two conclusions at this point. Care to hear what they are?
	- Fine. Tell me. What could you possibly conclude about anything?!
	- Well, my first conclusion is that it was Jorge who has sent you to me. About my second conclusion, well, it will be true only if you say that my first one was wrong.
	- HA! HA! You are wrong! You are wrong! I know nothing of no one named Jorge.
	Pasquim did look surprised. Then he raised an eyebrow and kept speaking:
	- I see. I was wrong. Than most certainly my second conclusion is the correct one. I have concluded this: you are a very stupid and very foolish man.
	Now Charles was very angry at the old man. He yelled at him in great fury:
	- STUPID?! You damned, f****** fool! How dare you say that, you who can't even spend one full day sober! You who doesn't have any dignity in this life! A thief, menace to society!
	- Calm down Charles. Your anger just proves my point further.
	"How dares this old drunkard talk to me like this!", said Charles as his hand turned slowly into an anger fist. Pasquim kept his calm tone and told him his reasons to have such conclusions:
	- You see, Charles, you are a stupid man because, if Jorge has not sent you to me, it means that you have sought help from a old man who looks like 60 years old when he is in fact 50, who seems to have no morality, who has no money because he is addicted to alcohol, who is always singing a sad song in every pub he goes, and whose best social connections are to pub owners. And SEEDY pubs, by the way.
	- Yes, you are right, I am a stupid man to have even talked to you at all!
	- You have not allowed me to finish. I have told the reason that makes you stupid. Now I must tell why you are a fool. You see, there is a difference between the two.
	- I will not take any more of these insults from a haggard man!
	- You will, Charles. They are not insults, they are constructive critics. You see, what makes you a fool is the fact that you think you can fool me. You have just said that Jorge did NOT send you to me. But you have said the wrong words to the wrong drunkard. I KNOW Jorge has sent you. I ALWAYS knew, even before I met you.
	Charles' anger changed from a urge to be violent to the kind of anger a person feels when they have to admit that they are wrong and have been humiliated into admitting this because their antagonist is right.
	- By the powers, you damned devil Pasquim Elias! You are right! Jorge DID send me. I suppose then he told you before we met and I have been made a fool out of the both of you. You two wanted to laugh at my expense and made me wander from pub to pub telling stupid jokes to drunkards all over the city of Londrina!
	But this statement made Pasquim Elias a angry man. It was his turn to put on a scowl of disapproval and be angry at the man he was speaking with.
	- How dare you insult the only two people who actually CARE for you and your predicament, you disrespectful wretch! Going from pub to pub telling jokes about Portuguese people was the ONLY smart and valiant thing you have done in this little time we know each other! Jorge told you it was the ONLY way you coud ever find me and ask for my help!
	- Yes, Jorge told me that... I suppose now you tell me how the hell your little game works?!
	- Very well, I shall tell you. Quite frankly, would you be able to find a dirty drunkard among other dirty drunkards in this big city?! Would you have believed Jorge if he simply said you should search for the drunkard who hit people with his shovel here, in this address?! Would you actually think you would accept the fact that the man who was said to be the ONLY one who could help you was a bum with nothing but ghosts from the past?! Or would you simply think Jorge was crazy and not listen to him?!
	- You are right, I would think he was crazy. But then again his idea of sending me to every pub in the area telling jokes about Portuguese people did not sound very normal, either. I figured it was just some sort of password to some underground group that could offer me a solution. Hell, that damn idea almost made an actual Portuguese man want to hit me hard in one of the pubs!
	- Ah, but this idea was brilliant! Jorge knew I was THE BEST man in Paraná regarding all jokes about the Portuguese. I could not possibly resist talking to someone who told a Portuguese joke out of nowhere in a pub! He knew this was the best way for you to find me!
	Then Charles calmed himself completely. Finally this whole crazy idea was starting to make sense. He breathed deeply, feeling very relieved.
	- Whew, Pasquim! Now I am starting to understand things! You know what, I need a smoke. Care for one too?
	- And smoke "Parliament" cigarettes? No thanks, I will smoke one of my own cheap ones!

	Tensions calmed down between the two men as they quietly had a quick smoke, each of its own cigarettes. After some toxic nicotine flowed through their bodies, they both just laughed a bit.
	- Quite a situation we have here, eh Pasquim?!
	- Indeed, Charles. At any rate we need to have a look at this situation. Yesterday you found me in my nice pub. Now I must have some reason for not going back there this night. What have you got for me?!
	- Well, for one, I brought you a copy of the article I wrote and which gave me so much trouble. It's small really. Care to take a look?
	- Sure. Hand it over.
	Charles took out from his wallet the article, cut from a newspaper. It was really small actually, but the size it occupied in the newspaper was smaller than that it occupied in the courtrooms.
	"MARINGÁ, OCTOBER 24, 2004."
	"COUNCILMAN CLESTON FUNDED BY THE E.U."
	"Councilman Joachim Cleston Jr. has been reported to have accepted funding for his campaign for the city council of Maringá from a source in Europe. A total of 100.000 Euro have been sent to fund his electoral campaign. In addition of the funds not being reported in the electoral budget claim, it is a illegal practice to have funding from outside the country to election campaigns."
	Pasquim read the news and analyzed the words. Indeed, much was amiss from the article.
	- Say, Charles, this article does seem to have many elements missing. I mean, for one, you simply have written that he has received funds from the European Union. But you do not specify even which country it came from!
	- Well... that is quite a problem really. I indeed do now know... actually, my source does not know!
	- Let me see if I understood this: your "source" knows that the amount received by the councilman was of 100.000 Euro, and yet you do not know from where all this Euro came from?
	- Well... yes!

	- Charles! Is there not something you need to tell me at this point?
	- Well, is there?
	Pasquim sighed, then said to himself:
	- Gods! Enlighten this fool I have before me! Show me he is not a complete fool after all!
	The statement only embarrassed Charles further.
	- (sigh) Charles... if you truly want my help, I guess you shall have to tell me a very simple information...
	- Really, what you want to know?!
	- Have you still not figured it out?! Charles! I need to know WHO THE HELL IS THIS STUPID SOURCE YOU GOT!!!
	- Oh! That information! Oh dear...
	And as Charles stuttered before answering, Pasquim noticed a small detail he had not yet noticed: as he got more and more nervous, Charles constantly rubbed and moved up and down from his finger a certain golden ring.

	Pasquim was very sharp on guessing things. Obviously, if he had a gold ring on his finger, Charles was probably married, or engaged at the very least. And his wife (or future wife) had something to do with the whole affair.
	- Charles... what has the special woman on your life got to do with this?!
	- WHAT?! HOW DID YOU... oh...
	Only then he realized he kept rubbing his ring all this time. Charles nearly lost his voice in his nervousness, and Pasquim once again had to guess what went on in his poor mind.
	- Don't tell me your wife is the informant! Don't tell me you wrote those things on the newspaper simply because she had some hunch and you had to please her wishes!
	- My wife has nothing to do with this! It's just that... that...
	Pasquim ran out of guesses.
	- That what?!
	- It's just that she, and my little son, they are the reason I absolutely have to keep my job! I don't really like working at that newspaper, and I have been looking for other job opportunities. But if this lawsuit makes me or the newspaper pay the bill, then not only will I be broke, then no other newspaper will ever want to give a job! How will I be able to provide to my little kid then!
	- Very well. These are all very important issues indeed. I myself...
	And Pasquim dropped his head. He remembered the events that eventually made him turn into a drunkard. It was also all about his own wife, about eight years ago. The thoughts made him very sad, and he quickly felt he needed a drink. Still, it was not time to head to the pub, and he completed his sentence.
	- ... I myself know how it is to care so much about your family. You are right.
	What a sight an onlooker would see on that street. First, a mad drunkard flaunting a shovel at a teenager. Then, an argument between journalists. Finally, two saddened men who each remembered  the ladies that made them suffer.

	At any rate, suffering from the past was not telling Pasquim what was Charles' mystery source after all.
	- So, my brother Charles... who is your source in this endeavor?
	- Well, it is... Cleston's daughter.
	- His daughter?! Why would his own daughter tell you the rotten part of her own father's doing?!
	- Well, I guess it's because she is a very honest girl, and was quite disapproving of her father doing illegal things to win an election.
	- It sounds like an utopia for me! In these days, what rich girl would risk her own rich father, source of the lifestyle of luxury, in such a thing as a display of corruption?! Especially in something like receiving money from another country, which is simply illegal, not necessarily an immoral activity like stealing or killing someone.
	- Well, quite frankly, Cleston has quite a bad reputation in that city, at least among intelligent folk. Although no proof of corruption has ever truly appeared, pretty much everyone knows that this is simply because he is very good at masquerading his illegal activities.
	- I see. Boy, for the local drunkard I sure seem to be entering into a mad world of investigation. How come I have entered in this mess in the first place?!
	- Eh, I guess it's our good friend Wonder George's fault! He told me after all to locate you here in Londrina!
	- Yes. Eh, Jorge. "Wonder George"! Got famous, created a fancy nickname for international stardom, now bothers old drunkards in Paraná!
	- Indeed, Wonder George does and says many things.
	Pasquim halted after hearing the last sentence.
	Suddenly his sharp senses noticed another interesting fact.

	Nothing like taking some time after losing time.
	- Charles... I think...
	And it is not worth just to keep, continuously,  weeping and complaining for long.
	- ... I need to... make a phone call...
	And as "Wonder George", or just Jorge for his Brazilian fans, used to say:
	"It is better to have a daughter in thy hand than two parents flying!"

	Pasquim did not quite listen to whatever Charles replied. He just went straight to the phone booth by the street's corner. The words of a long lost friend clinging in his mind.
	"And as 'Wonder George' used to say, it is better to have a daughter in thy hand than two parents flying!"
	He dialed a certain phone number.
	In the other side of the line, someone answered.
	"A collect call? From where?! Hm... this caller ID... a collect call from Londrina!"
	- It has been quite a while since we do not speak, Wonder George.
	- Pasquim Elias! Good Friend! Good to hear you. You sure are missed around these parts!

	At last, two of the greatest journalists Brazil ever had were once again in touch with each other.
	- I have met Charles. Quite a tidy chap you have arranged for me. Too tidy, as you probably already figured from the start.
	- Eh, excessively tidy. But you need each other Pasquim. I have sent him for you not just because he needs you. You need him, as well!
	- I need him?! When I needed another tall black glass-eyed scholar in my life, you came in to fill the shoes. But this newbie journalist knows nothing of the rough and tumble way of life, like we did back in the seventies. How will he help me?! Is he better at bashing people with a shovel than me?!
	- Bashing with a shovel?! What did you do with that fantastic axe you used to have?!
	- Sold it. Got myself a shovel quite a while back.
	- But a shovel?! I still have that nice sword you that was yours once, but I will not sell it back to you! It looks too good at my office!
	- Office?! Bah! Certainly all that booze I bought with your cash were worth a lot more! After the second liter of cheap whiskey, you start seeing swords at any wall you want.
	- We both know we have had our fair share of hallucinations. Are you still doing what you sought out to do those rough seven years ago.
	- Yep, same thing. You well know I have had some results with it already.
	- Seven years, it is about time you started having some of the results you sought! But, at any rate, I feel that your little "project" will be endangered if you do not change your surroundings soon. Time to change the testing site!
	- Well, Londrina has been a very good testing site all these years for the project. But although a change of air would be a good thing, you know very well why it cannot be done!
	- Ah, Pasquim, that is the very reason you must move! I have information you are lacking!
	- Really?! What do you know?
	- Well, as you remember , this year was VERY hectic in your defense of your beloved wall, right?!
	- Of course. Year of elections for mayor and councilmen. So many buggers coming to my wall to put advertisements for electoral candidates there! Never have I felt more sorry for having sold both my sword and axe! The only reason I ever found to stop drinking was that, if I did so, I would no longer have to sell my weaponry in order to have more booze!
	- Yes. And in the last month you finally have hit people that are bigger than you and your shovel, axe, sword, whatever.
	- No! You mean that, finally, after so many years, I have hit people who actually want to KILL ME?!
	- Yes! I know that there is at least one teenager who wants your head for some smacks you gave on his head. Worse than that, some councilman wannabe did not get enough votes to get to the city council, and he placed the blame on the problems with advertisement he had. And guess who was one of the people who hindered his propaganda?!
	- Fine, so I guess you mean it is time for me to leave Londrina.
	- Yep. At least for a while.
	- The problem is not leaving. It is defending the thing that means to me more than my life.
	- Aha! That is where Charles comes in! Not only does he have a reason for you to leave town with him, he has the insurance you need to keep your mind at ease.
	- Insurance?!
	- Very simple. Just ask him, in retribution for your services, the place on Israel street, in Maringá.
	- The place on... OH! NO! YOU MEAN HE...
	- Yes, you know what I mean!
	- THIS IS GREAT! Thanks Wonder George! I will now return to Charles, he is looking at me with a strange face.
	- Yes, go back to that little guy. Poor fella must be felling very lost!
	- Oh! I almost forgot! I called you for an insight I happened to have. I got a feeling you became very influential to Charles exactly because he remembered those wise words you always kept repeating.
	- Yes. The little guy got very courageous one day and told that Cleston guy the thing you think he told him.
	- He he! I thought so. Very well, then, good friend! Farewell for now, we shall meet again soon, I hope!
	- I look forward to it! Keep yourself alive and well, my dear friend Pasquim Elias!

	Pasquim hanged up the phone and turned around to face a very puzzled Charles.
	- So, Pasquim, you were talking to Wonder George himself?!
	- Yes, indeed I was. A long time since I do not see that good old friend.
	- You know Wonder George for long?!
	- Surely, since the 1960's! He was the man who taught much of what I know today. We saw each other's journalism careers skyrocket together. Those were good days I am very fond to remember.
	- You mean you two were journalists amidst the military dictatorship in Brazil? Those were truly complicated times to be a free thinking man!
	- Sure they were. I would say it is hard to be free and thinking even today! Then again, it has been so since the beginning of time, I guess. You know how the saying goes: it is not the world that has gone bad, it's simply the press that improved the coverage!
	- Eh, good old saying! But now, do tell me one thing, Pasquim: what was the "project" you said you were conducting here in Londrina?! And what of its "results"?
	- Oh?! You... want to know about my project?!
	Pasquim reflected for a bit, then began speaking after all.
	- Well, Charles, it is quite simple indeed. As you must be well aware, besides being a drunkard, I am quite a bit of a gambler. And not just that, I am a drunkard gambler who lives among other drunkard gamblers. Therefore, I have not only been able to see, I have been able to feel myself the effects of prolongated gambling. And, even though many have said seeing is believing, I myself say that feeling is knowing that the belief is real, or maybe not. In any event, I have searched in this city far and wide, hunted high and low, for a steady increase in my gambling abilities. More than that, my project involves the effective training of others in such fine arts.
	- Quite a honorable goal, my good friend Pasquim! And so, what have been your fine results thus far?
	- Well, they are quite a few. For starters, I have been able to develop a very good method of determining one's own power animal through the knowledge and interpretation of one very own dreams. But there is more! Also have I learned from a seasoned traveler who has attended days and nights of pure gambling orgy in Atlantic City, Monaco, Las Vegas and Paraguay, a truly unique and guaranteed way of being able to win many a Dollar or Euro in a roulette table.
	- That sounds very good! Both Freud and many a student of logic would probably be very interested in your findings! Since I do not believe that knowing my power animal is important, perhaps you can tell me how to beat a roulette table?
	- Why, I would be delighted! First of all, you must bet only on either the black or only the red numbers. After choosing one, you must stick to this bet for the entire gambling session. After choosing one, you should bet only one chip in the first time. If you win, bet again a single chip the next time. If you lose, bet then one chip and an additional amount of chips equal to the amount you would have won in the last bet. So if you should have won two chips in the last round, bet two chips and an extra one. If you should have won four in the last round, bet four plus one. And so on.
	- I think I understood what you mean, Pasquim! This way, if I win at any round, not only will I regain back what I have lost, but I will have won an extra chip as well! Surely this method sounds like it could work for a long period of time. I guess it is a shame that gambling is forbidden here in Brazil, would you not say?
	- Indeed. As that great singer from Bahia, Caetano Veloso, used to say, it should be forbidden to forbid!
	- Good words. At any rate, I suppose your so called "results" consist of a few newcomers to the art of gambling who have learned how to succeed in it from you?
	- Yes, they are. Many of the patrons of pubs you have seen around me are also my students. Now, I know what you will ask next. You will ask why it seems that neither I nor anyone around me seems to have grown rich since they should be gambling so well.
	- Well, yes, this question comes to mind.
	- The reason is simple, Charles. Gambling might earn you some few bucks for you to drink some bit of liquor. But, in the long run, somehow the house will always win.
	- Certainly you are right. The house always wins.

	This entire talk about a "gambling education project" was none other than another of Pasquim's many well-told tales. In truth, he did not feel it was yet time to reveal to Charles what was the truth of his "project". It certainly had nothing to do with gambling. But Pasquim knew that little can be kept secret from a curious journalist, since he himself was one a long time ago. So it seemed to be best to simply kill Charles' curiosity for the time being with a nice story.

	- Very well then, Pasquim. What shall be our next step?!
	- Is it not obvious?!
	- Is it?!
	- I just asked you the same.
	- Well?!
	- Now, Charles, it would be quite a nice time for you to show me that you have an intellect of which we can both make good use of.
	- Really?
	- Really.
	- Oh, all right. I guess I have been a bit of a pain in your ass thus far, maybe. Care if I have another smoke before thinking about it?
	- Not really. Just be sure to have a good idea before having Cancer.
	So Charles lit up another cigarette and told Pasquim what he thought would be the next logical step.
	- Well, I guess we need to consolidate the little we already know. That would mean going to my "source" and seeing what can be worked further from there.
	- Yes, you are right. At last, a glimpse of intelligence!
	- Eh, even I admit it was time! But so, if we are about to go see Celston's daughter, I suppose this means going back to Maringá?
	- You presumed correctly once again. We should get moving now.
	- Already? But should we not make some travel arrangements?
	- No. We simply must travel. Have you been staying in a hotel this time you have been here in Londrina?
	- Well, yes. Obviously I have to check out first. But what about you? Do you not need to make some travel arragements as well?
	- I do. Wait here while I make the first half of them.
	Pasquim went inside his shack. There, he took fom an old cardboard box he kept rotting in a particular corner the less thorn set of clothes he could find. It was really an improvements from the rags he kept around his body most of the time, but it made little to help him say he was not a beggar or a drunkard. Putting in his pocket also the last twenty bucks he had around, he headed back to Charles.
	- Very well, Charles. Before we set out to Maringá, we nee to settle one thing.
	- What thing.
	- Israel Street.

	Charles raised an eyebrow as Pasquim asked him about Israel street.
	- What about it?
	- It has come to my knowledge that you happen to own a small property on that street. Am I correct?
	- Sure. But it is an undelevoped plot. It has maybe a very simple shed behind its wall. What interest do you have in it?!
	- Well, I guess it is time we discussed the price of my services. In returning for aiding you survive the lawsuit and keep your job, I will want in return the deed to that plot.
	- What?! What interest do you have in it?!
	- My reasons are mine to keep.
	Charles thought for a moment. A plot of land tends to be a very important thing that can be worth quite some money. But Charles never really knew what to do with it, and he never had found a buyer. Besides, certainly it would not be fair to Pasquim if he helped Charles without getting anything in return.
	- I accept, under one condition: I will hand you that plot only if we are able to succeed in overcoming this problem.
	- We will overcome it. You have my word. The word of a sober drunkard is worth a lot. Much more worth than that of a drunk drunkard. You do not need to hand me a penny should we fail.
	- Very well, it is agreed. Let us shake hands then to confirm the deal.
	So both friends shook hands, formally cementing their alliance to overcome the lawsuit of councilman Cleston and keeping both Charles' job and the plot in Israel Street in the hands of people who deserved them. Both men could almost feel an aura of triumph from this newly formed alliance.
	- Pasquim Elias, I count on you from now on fully. Are you ready to go.
	- Of course, my brother-in-arms Charles. I just would like to take a shower at your hotel before going. As far as the issue of gear, I have with me all I need.
	- Really? But it seems that you are carrying nothing!
	- I am carrying the most useful of all tools: my wits.

	PART 2 - CITY OF MARINGÁ

	CHAPTER 4 - THE LONG WINDING ROAD

	The two journalists, one old and retired, another younger and facing retirement, readied themselves to travel to Maringá, where they hoped to talk to the daughter of councilman Cleston and see if they could find out more about his illegal dealings with Europe.
	Carrying little other than his wits and an almost clean set of clothes, Pasquim Elias set off to take a shower at the hotel Charles had been staying the past few days. It had been quite a while since he had taken a shower, quite possibly more than a week. In the few occasions Pasquim did clean himself, he did so either under the pipe by the roof of the place the called home or at some far too public place for him to be able to clean certain parts of his body without attracting the police to his misdemeanor. So an opportunity to make use of the sleazy hotel room Charles had rented and was about to check out proved to be actually a very nice thing to do for a change. As he left the shower, a bit wet, he would be able to brag that he no longer looked like a dirty drunkard. He looked like a showered drunkard, from now on. People even could maybe tolerate his presence, now that he no longer would set nostrils at revolt.
	Then it was time finally to set off to the city of Maringá, where their destiny awaited. Charles checked out of the hotel, ignoring Pasquim when he mentioned they could fast-talk the clerk into giving him a discount, and took in his hand the simple yet functional briefcase he was traveling with. Pasquim once again checked to see if his wits were in proper order. He noticed they were cleaner now just like the rest of his body.
	Charles insisted that they should go to the bus station in the city, a fine example of modern architecture and functionality that almost hourly had comfortable buses to Maringá, a city not very distant to Londrina, with a distance that easily could be done in less than two hours. However, a nice, comfortable bus did not come with a nice, comfortable price. Surely, Charles, could afford a trip with no weigh on his pocket. But Pasquim had only a measly twenty bucks with him, and he did want those to turn into glasses of liquor, not into a bus ticket. The afternoon was about to end and in one hour it would already be evening, and Pasquim felt there was little need for a comfortable bus in the early hours of the night. Booze would be a better choice.
	- Charles, let us not take one of the fancy buses to Maringá. I have too little money.
	- But Pasquim, the ticket is not really expensive. I can pay your way.
	- You may be able to pay my way, but you still must learn that cash is not necessarily the only way to do things. After you refused my help into getting a discount at the hotel, you certainly will have to indulge me. Come with me, let us take the public bus!
	- The public bus?! But not only will our trip take a lot longer, it will be far less comfortable! Not to mention we shall have to change buses in the middle of the road!
	- You talk about comfort and long waiting times to a drunkard whose bed is a rotten piece of cloth! We are taking the public bus! There are things about life that you must learn in order to overcome this lawsuit. Besides, do you know what will happen if you lose your lawsuit?!
	- Yes, I will end up just like you!
	- Exactly! So it's time you learned the ropes, kid!
	Far less tranquil than before, Charles sighed and headed with Pasquim Elias to the public bus stop.

	The public bus was really not that much of a bad thing, really. It was pretty much like the other buses that were used for mass transit in the city, only with destinations outside of it. The cost of the ticket was really cheap, not very expensive if compared to the normal bus fare. Then again, Pasquim and Charles would have to take three of these buses to arrive in Maringá. And the voyage that would take two hours would certainly take at least four using this certain transport.
	When they entered in the bus, there were about six or seven passengers along with them. There were plenty of empty seats for the two to sit down, but Pasquim reprimanded Charles when he sat on one of them.
	- Charles, maybe we should just travel standing.
	- But why?! If we don't take the seats now, soon the bus should fill up and there will be no seats left! If we go standing, we will be tired and soon have nowhere to sit!
	- Surely, but not always the most rational and smart thing I the nicest and coolest one to do. If we travel standing, we can say we have done something different than other people would. Even if it is something less efficient.
	- Well, I sure hope you don't mind me wanting to be like everyone else in this situation. It is a long trip, you know.
	- You should reconsider. But I will say no more.
	So Pasquim kept standing while Charles chose to travel seated.
	The trip was quite smooth. Nothing really different was supposed to happen anyway. Or so thought Charles, since as it turned out Pasquim Elias always had some incredible thing to light up a situation.

	The bus kept going, more people entered the bus as it made its stops, and soon it was time they changed buses. They got down from the bus they were riding, awaited for another one, and boarded it when they arrived. This time, there were many people on board, and both Charles and Pasquim allowed others to use the few seats available.
	While traveling, Pasquim asked his comapnion:
	- So, Charles, what is on your mind?
	- Well, I cannot stop thinking about this entire situation. The problems I got myself into, councilman Cleston and his lawsuit, my newspaper job, my wife, my kid, how this mess is growing to be messier, and how I found help with Wonder George and his friend Pasquim Elias. I suppose similar thoughts are upon your head?
	- Well, almost. For now, I am just hoping the bus crashes in an accident.
	Not only Charles, but several other passengers eyeballed Pasquim in a surprised and scared look.
	- By the powers, Pasquim! Why do you want such a terrible thing!
	- The logic is very simple. First, if we do crash and happen to all get mortally wounded...
	By now it could be easily heard that at least one passenger in the bus was loudly praying to whomever god that person worshipped to keep harm out of way.
	- ...then what will happen is that I will feel that I was right and be able to laugh at my mortal miserable agony as everyone cries.
	Surely many people would spend this night talking to their relatives and friends about the crazy fat old man who had very sadistic tendencies at the bus. Provided, of course, they finished the bus trip alive. The next day, the bus employees would surely make that man a "persona non grata" at any buses of that company.

	- But Pasquim, if this happens, you will probably die together with us!
	- Yes, but unlike you and all these people I will die happily!
	Nice point, some would say. 
	- Fine then. Suppose we don't crash. And subsequently don't die. What then?!
	- Well, then I will be wrong, and therefore my expectation will be flustered.
	- Too bad for you.
	- Not so much. You see, gambling mathematics would indicate that, for every frustration in life, there should be a comparable amount of gain in corresponded expectations. I don't know the specific rate, maybe it is something like life holding a single corresponded expectation for every flustered one. Therefore, if my expectations are flustered every time I take a bus, chances will increase for my greater expectations to be met.
	Whomever was praying before stopped then. It seemed that Pasquim was not alone anymore in regards to thinking that expecting a bus crash was a good thing.
	- Death and booze. Ways to make a happy Pasquim Elias! - Charles concluded. - I guess that, for completions sake, I should simply add "ladies" to the list?!
	- Not really, Charles.
	This time, a funny silence took hold of the passengers of the bus. Many a more puritan passenger raised an eyebrow of doubt.
	- Not... really? Do you have... the same preference that women have?
	- Yes... in some aspects. Not the one you mean. I am castrated.

	- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
	What a shock!

	Now many a male (and a female or two) passenger in the bus were feeling very sorry for the old haggard man. He was castrated! What a shock! What many pleasurable things he must miss!
	- Oh... I am... I am... I am so sorry!
	- Don't be.
	- I mean... how nasty of me! What was I thinking?!
	- Thinking... not a bad thing to do!
	And the rest of the bus trip was a somewhat silent one.

	Three buses and many racing thoughts on their heads later, Pasquim and Charles arrived at Maringá. Tired from the long journey, it was time they chose what their next plan of action would be. Night had fallen already, and both of them cared for little more than a bit of sleep.
	- So, Charles, I see a nice dark corner over there, in that street. Quite inviting to spend the night, would you not say?
	Pasquim slept every night in a ruined house over a dirty cloth piece. That street corner was as inviting as aught else. For Pasquim of, course, not Charles. Charles actually would feel a lot better if he could go home to his warm bed and worried wife. However, it was so late and he was so tired, he actually did not want to go home. The reason was really a simple one: if he went home that night, it would be a night his wife would start questioning about all the things that happened in the other city. And he was far too tired to explain these things to her. Not only was he tired physically, he was tired spiritually. He thought a long time about what to do. Then he made a decision.
	- Say, Pasquim, would you care to spend this night in a hotel room in this city?
	- You know, I quite prefer the cold asphalt, hank you. Unless it's you paying?
	- Well... yes.
	- Why won't you simply invite me, then, to go back with you to your own home? Surely over there, if not a bed, you must have a cozy corner where you can accommodate a nice old drunkard?!
	- Well, you see, I myself think I will go to some hotel to spend this night as well. I simply thought you might like to accompany me as well.
	- Not in the same bed, I hope. I told you, I am castrated.
	- Eh, no, in different beds. Rest assured of that.
	- Of course. But your behavior, upon reaching your city, where you have a cozy home waiting for you to return, is quite strange, don't you think?! Don't you think you have some explaining to do?!
	Charles sighed and felt it was time to explain things to Pasquim.
	- Well, Pasquim, you see, the thing is...
	- No, you stupid oaf! I am an old drunkard who has seen more strange behavior than most people see all their lives! It is not me you must give explanations! I don't care why you don't want to sleep at your own house. In fact, I quite enjoy the idea of sleeping in  hotel room for a change. The one you must explain things to is your wife and child!
	- Oh! Yes, you are right! I do have to tell her some excuse. Wait a while, I will be right back.

	Charles headed for the nearest phone booth and made a collect call to his apartment, where his wife and child awaited for his return from Londrina.
	- Hello? Charles?!
	- Hi! It's me! How are you doing?
	- I am OK, I guess. Where are you?! Did you come back already?!
	- Eh, no, I still am here in Londrina. But don't worry, I found Pasquim Elias already, and we both are coming home tomorrow. Don't worry, everything is all right.
	- Is it, honey?! Will everything turn out OK really?!
	- Yes it will. Don't worry. How's our little son doing?
	- He's fine. He's asleep already. He misses his father, you know.
	- Yes, I know. I'm coming home soon, then everything will be alright.
	- All right then. Take care. I love you.
	- Yes, me too. Bye!
	Then he hung up the phone and went back to Pasquim.
	- So, you are still in Londrina, Charles?!
	- Yes, I guess I still am! So, shall we be going to a hotel?
	- We may. Or... we may not.
	- What do you mean? Where else would we go?!
	- We could go to a pub! Drink some booze!
	Great. Pasquim wanted to discover how seedy were the pubs of Maringá now! Yes, a very good thing. What kind of problem could not be solved with a bit of liquor?! Drink and forget, so the saying goes!
	- I cannot believe this, Pasquim! You need a drink already?!?
	- No, I don't. But I have a hunch you could use one.
	Pasquim, master of guesses. He was right again. Charles really could use a few glasses of alcohol to dilute his many worries. The reason for him not wanting to go home tired and have to explain to his wife and son what was the deal about that drunkard that was tagging along with him was far different than simple exhaustion. He had other complications as well. Some that were about his mind, heart and soul, not just his muscles and lack of sleep.
	- Yes, Pasquim, I could use a drink. I could use two drinks. I could use three. So, what kind of pub should we go?! Seedy or not seedy?!
	- Your choice, my friend. Take it easy, my brother Charles!
	For a change of scene, Charles preferred a non-seedy pub he knew near the bus terminal. Conveniently, a cheap yet clean hotel was not very far from there. Knowing from a past experience or two about the problems of checking in a hotel whilst being drunk, the two men wisely went there first to fill out the necessary forms and papers, nothing complex but still necessary.
	By about 21:45, the two had already checked in the hotel and arrived at the pub. It was a place with a bit of extra flair, and yet not so uptight as to not allow a drunkard or two inside its walls. Pub patrons, occasional newcomers and even some ladies, some pretty and some ugly, by now were already having a drink or two. The night was not yet in full motion and quite a few tables were available, yet Pasquim did insist the two seated by the bar. Once seated, it was time to choose the beverage for the night.
	- So, Charles, what shall we be having this here fine night?
	- Suggestions, master Pasquim Elias?!
	- Why yes, my dear chap. I would suggest we order a nice bottle of some fine beer. After all, not only may we humbly share a pour or two from the same bottle in a fraternal fashion, we may as well choose this path of slow alcoholization in an effort to be able to appreciate soberly for an extra bit of time these fine lasses that adorn this hallowed place of happiness. And I believe this fine dame by our side, this beautiful bartender who has just arrived to serve us our choice of liquor, would certainly agree, would you not, fair mademoiselle?
	In mid-sentence, the female bartender of the pub arrived to take the order of those newcomers, and with a flattered and quite shy smile she took off to get some beer for that gallant old man and the inexpressive fellow who could maybe be his nephew or so.
	After pouring the crystal clear yellow beer and feasting their eyes upon foam that looked like not even the ocean could produce in a more gorgeous fashion, it was time for a toast before the first sip.
	- Charles, I give thee the honor of choosing this night what shall be our first toast!
	- Thank thee, noble gentleman, for such a honor! Heretofore, I declare that we shall toast to the imminence of our success! Cheers!
	- Cheers!
	And so they made a cheerful toast and drank the first sip of beer. Quite a good taste it had. As the yellow liquid flowed through the throats of those men, their worries gave way to calm thoughts of a possibly fortuitous future. And the felling was good. For the first time since the news of the lawsuit, Charles could drink beer and smoke a cigarette feeling truly cool and calm. However, one thought suddenly popped in his head that needed an answer.
	- Pasquim! I just remembered! What about your wall?! How will you defend it if any punk decides today or tomorrow to violate that sacred surface?!
	- Ah, Charles, about the wall... simply worry not.
	- Simply worry not?!
	- Simply worry not.
	- Fine. I shall simply worry not.

	The first glass of each drinker was nearing its end. The bottle of beer filled them up, but soon enough it too would near its end. Pasquim was none the wiser to hide the emptied bottle as it became so and called upon another bartender, this time a male one, for a refill.
	- Hello good chap! Mayhap you could supply us with a nice bottle of beer so as to wet our sore throats? It has been a while since the golden liquid of the gods has touched the insides of this old man. Quite a sad tale, would you not say my good friend?
	After nodding in understanding, the bartender gave the drunkard another beer bottle. The trick was that in the mind of one of them, only a single bottle out of the true two was actually consumed and required payment in the following tab. Pasquim knew words that could make liquor vanish from growing tabs. Charles said nothing, worried about being in the way of a master operating its art. That would be a shame should it come to pass.
	Beer came, beer went, a third bottle was required. Alas, only two bartenders were by the pub's bar. The solution was to ask with great gentlemanship for that lady bartender of the first time to grant them the boon of a "second" beer bottle for their moist throats. Courting the not-so-pretty lady, once again Pasquim fooled the counters of the tab. Quite ingenious o him. Quite foolish of the naive barkeepers. Quite a lesson for Charles.
	Pasquim could not help but finally ask to Charles how it came to be that he was tired top go home and see his wife and child, yet was not tired for beer drinking.
	- So, Charles. Why exactly are we here, in this pub, and not in your cozy home, eating a fair meal other than the juice of the barley?!
	Charles was very uneasy, because not even he himself was sure why it was so. It was not the uneasiness that was worrying him, it was that which he knew would create the desired relief effect. The thing that would make his soul a peaceful and happy one would be a thing that would make other hearts miserable.
	- You care to really know?! I fear you will hate me if I tell you.
	- I hate you already Charles. Spill!
	The statement wounded Charles.
	- I was kidding, my good chap! Take it easy my brother Charles!
	- Why do you call me your brother all the time! I am tired of that!
	- Fine, sport.
	- No, call me by my name, "sport" will not do either!
	- No problem, champ!
	- "Champ"!? My pain-in-the-ass uncle called me that when I was a boy!
	- Really, bro?!
	- Grr...
	- He he! Take it easy, my brother Charles! HAHAHAHAHA!
	Pasquim's laughter was more of a fine tranquil joke than an actual taunt. He just tapped the younger journalist in the back and made an attempt of peace.
	- Charles, you have been sent to my care by my best friend to this very day, Wonder George. I shall see to it that you are treated as I would like to see my brother treated. In fact, remember that saying some chaps like to pronounce all the time, "treat all ye know as brothers"! Brothers fight and struggle at each other, as all beings do. But having a brother like Pasquim Elias, you have a brother that certainly will lend ye a helping hand whenever one is needed. And, if I get amputated, I assure you I will at least get ye a discount at whatever is your next purchase!
	- Hmm... brother Pasquim Elias! A nice name for the local preacher, wouldn't you say?! Care to join the local parish?!
	- Best thing I have in common with clergy is the taste for wine!
	Both laughed. Certainly it was true.

	- Charles, I admit, you are good.
	- Good? At what?!
	- At distracting people. You have just stalled this conversation and almost made me forget to care about the reason we are at this pub drinking beer and not at your place mulling over a lawsuit!
	- Oh... that!
	Charles got uneasy again.
	- Pasquim... have you any children?!
	- Yes. I have a thirty year old son. He is a black man, wears glasses, is very shy, and he is called Charles Losetti.
	- I thought I was like a brother to you!
	- Well, I want to do things with you I wouldn't do to a brother. Sometimes I quite frankly feel like spanking you. And, of course, in a nonsexual way. I am castrated.
	- Anyway, got kids? I mean, did you produce any human beings before your castration?! Did you have a baby who swam in a woman's womb due to something of your responsibility.
	- Hell, no. Why do you think I don't mind being castrated?!
	- Well, having a kid means you have to have many responsibilities. You must provide for him, give him affection, give him education, all these things. And I love my kid, I would do anything for him, even face barehanded councilman Cleston in a boxing match if needed.
	- Do you think you would win?
	- No. Cleston is a former boxing champion.
	- Wow! Major circuit?!
	- No. Maringá circuit.
	- Oh.
	- Anyway, things were very hectic when little Aristophanes was conceived, nurtured, and later born. We got married after she got pregnant, soon after that I got my current job, and I have already paid the mortgage on our little apartment. Of course, I do love that little kid, and I also love my wife, Alice. But then again... well... time has passed... my son is now six years old already... I have a job that pays well enough... and now I have just turned thirty and I see before me a life of financial security and a son to raise. Of course, financial security if we overcome the lawsuit.
	- Which we will, by the way.
	- Right. So as you can see, this is my life. This is... my life...
	- Well, you just said everything. Of course you are unhappy with your life. Yes siree. You surely must envy me on the other hand. All you ever wanted was to be a drunkard by the time you got to 50 years old. Better yet, being 50 and looking like 60. A true long-term life goal. Ah, nothing like being forgotten by all, drink all day, and have people wanting to kill you because you hit them with a shovel whilst defending you wall. Bliss!
	- Ok, Ok, it's not like I don't like my life. But I do feel nothing will ever change, nothing in the world will be made better with my simple life, and me and my wife will simply live on for the rest of our days in a marriage that will be just like regular marriages all around the world. It's the though of not seeing anything new anymore that worries me!
	- Yes, this is indeed a very bad thing to think, but there are some points that simply don't make sense. Here you are now, a pub in Maringá you rarely go, with a drunkard who for the past two days has been bent on giving you lessons on immorality and cheapness, and you are worried things will not change?! Something must have triggered all this self-weeping in you Charles. You would not be making so many questions about change unless a true chance for a change were to come. What is the new thing in your life, Charles?!
	Damned Pasquim Elias! He just kept on guessing things correctly!

	By now Charles was already scratching and rubbing his gold ring incessantly. He was certainly having some thoughts about his own married life that troubled him. A small group of patrons nearby noticed the man's nervousism and did take interest in the conversation of others, but were shooed away by a quite angry look of the two beer drinkers. Things were starting to get very personal already.
	- So, Charles, what is the matter with you and the wife?! Why are we here in this pub and not at your place?!
	- There's nothing with me and my wife!
	- AH-HA! So that is were the problem is! I am right, am I not?!
	- Well... ok, I admit! Yes! You are right!
	- Sorry lad. That I cannot help thee with. I am castrated.
	- No, it's not really THAT much of a problem.
	- Oh, I guess pregnancy made the lady less hot then?! No problem, we can score some chicks this night and drag them to the hotel. How about that redhead over there?
	- Stop that Pasquim! That... hey, that redhead is really cute!
	- Let's go! She's yours, and I get her brunette friend!
	- No, Pasquim! Stop that! I will not hit on girls tonight. I am rusty in this, and plus it's not like my wife is ugly. Much on the contrary, she is very pretty!
	- Very well, Charles. Sorry about my behavior. I am just not very used to having friends who complain about their hot wives who like to have constant relations with them.
	- It's not a question of sex, really, Pasquim. It's more a question of... a certain someone. A certain someone I happen to fancy.
	- Oh! I feel romance in the air! And I would bet she fancies you too?!
 	- Come on Pasquim! ... well, I hope she does!
	- My my! This talk is getting quite interesting!
	Then a digital watch somewhere rang a small "beep". Probably one of those watches that beep every hour. Charles looked at the clock, and saw that it was already 1:00, in the morning.

	CHAPTER 5 - NOT EVEN TO THE WALLS I CONFESS
	
	- 1:00 in the morning! Time to go Pasquim!
	- Already?! But I have not yet even heard my liver's daily complaint?!
	- Mine has just started composing its initial petition. Let's go before it can make to the judge its initial statements!
	- You are a Journalist, Charles, not a lawyer!
	- Oh! Right! I forgot!
	- Wait, you are not going to leave the pub and not tell me who is this lady you happen to fancy.
	- Eh, Pasquim! Whom I like... not even to the walls I confess!
	And so Pasquim asked for the tab. By then they had drank a total of four bottles of beer. However, Pasquim's fast talk and a bit of gallant etiquette were able to convince the female bartender who gave them the bill that in fact they had only been served two bottles, and by her alone, not the other bartender. Before the jig could be up, the elder smartass and his smartass-wannabe companion were already far away, tucked in their hotel beds for a good night's sleep.
	As morning came and the two men awoke, one was feeling better than the other. Guess who had a hangover that day?! Certainly the unaccustomed one. Pasquim gave a quick pat on his back and told him to treasure moments such as hangovers. They were, after all, the moment he and most of his closest friends had their finest heavenly revelations. Even though such divine happenings were more of the "oh god why, WHY GOD WHY?!?" kind.
	With its mind in place or not, certainly Charles would have to go back to his wife and tell her all the many things that have happened thus far. His last week in Londrina going from pub to pub drinking alcohol and non-alcohol things, telling stupid jokes to every barkeep that appeared in his path, and his grand encounter with a drunkard of legend would probably render a whole lot of explanations he would have to do. And, all that, with a nice hangover to boot!
	- Pasquim, it is time I go home and meet Alice and little Aristophanes. It will take a lot of time for me to talk to them and explain everything. Besides, I guess I should spend this day with my son. It is what a responsible should do, I think. I will have a cigarette now, since Alice won't let me smoke in the house, and then I will go home. Care to join me?
	- Sure, Charles, but I must ask you one thing before we go: how do you think your wife will feel if she sees none other than ME as yours, hers, and Aristophane's best hope of having a decent life?!
	Charles looked once more at Pasquim. It was true that he did not lose the opportunity to shower once again this morning, and his clothes were at least a little bit presentable. Still, little could be done about his fat belly, his graying and ugly beard, and his overall drunkard look that persisted even in the most sober moments. Alice was quite a harsh lady in terms of cleaness. She probably would not like anything less than a handsome blonde lawyer in Armani having the fate of her next days on earth on its hands. A Drunkard from Londrina would probably suffice little.
	- Well, Pasquim... it is not so much your looks at this time, it's the story of your life that would probably make her a bit uneasy about my mental health in wanting your help. The references to "Wonder George" will also help little, Alice never liked his comic strips in the days of yore, you know. She thought they were sometimes far too disgusting, or with bad taste.
	- SHE DARED BADMOUTH THE COMICS OF WONDER GEORGE!?!?!?!
	- Easy, Easy! Yes, she did! What can I do?! Not my fault! I always liked them myself.
	- Hmmm... Charles, let me think about something...
	Pasquim thought about some things. He was in a bustling city where never he had been before. He knew no one in town. He did not any special places around the city. And his only point of reference was an apartment where he would find inside a kid and a mother who would certainly not like him due to his looks and the story of his life.
	In other words, the setting of the city of Maringá was perfect for Pasquim Elias. Thoughts of cleverness and streetwisdom raced through his mind. A major step in winning the battle against councilman Cleston could be accomplished here.
	
	- Charles... what is the address of your place?
	- It is on Alfador Street, number 107, apartment 92. Why you ask? Won't you go with me?!
	- I will go there, but first I will... take a bit of rest at the hotel. We have a few hours left on our hotel bill, and I will use them to shave, rest for a bit, make some calls, this kind of stuff. Later on I can meet you at your place.
	- Alright. I will be going then.
	- Until later. Oh, remember one thing: don't talk about me or my strange habits to your wife, at least not before I arrive.
	- Why?
	- Well, you don't want to startle her, do you? Let me do this alone. Less weigh on your shoulders, less explaining to do!
	- Fine by me. Until later then, Pasquim Elias.
	And so they set off. Charles took a bus home, and Pasquim just went back to the hotel room where he slept last night. There, he prepared himself for a morning and an afternoon in the town. If possible, even a night could be in order. At any rate, he used a complimentary razor available at the hotel room in a mysterious fashion that Charles would never think Pasquim could, then he set off to do the first of many chores he had planned for the day. The first one, differently of the strange thing he did with the razor, was a thing anyone who knew even a little of the legends of Pasquim Elias would guess as something non-mysterious: he fast-talked the hotel clerk into giving him a discount. One of the many arguments he used was the puzzling fact he was the first customer in many years who was not taking with him any soap, shampoo, towels, hangers, batteries, TVs, or any of the hotel room's complimentary items. That scored very high in the karma of Pasquim with the clerk. After accomplishing this feat, he set off to discover how well could be make his first day in Maringá.
	Meanwhile, Charles arrived home, to meet his wife and child, after so long last.

	Upon seeing again the apartment building he lived in, Charles took a long, deep breath. He was VERY worried at all the explanations he would have to do to his wife. Worse of it all, she probably was not going to buy any of that.
	"Honey! Welcome back! What have you been doing?!"
	"Well... I have been roaming Londrina, going in several pubs, one after the other, telling a Portuguese joke to all bartenders, waiting for a journalist that was famous in 1995 would understand that I was looking for him. When I found him, I discovered he was a lunatic drunkard who only cared about not letting anyone defile a wall saying 'PARANÁ PRESS TROPHY '95'. So I took him with me so we could solve our little problem, the one that is threatening our well-being for the next... well, for the rest of our lives. So, baby, what's lunch?! I'm kind of hungry!"
	Boy, would he have some explaining to do about his absence these days! Worse than that would be the ACTUAL explaining! Oh well, time to face the lady. Charles entered the aprtment building he lived, greeted the doorman, and said "no" when he offered to ring his apartment to tell his wife he had arrived. He then took the elevator and went up nine floors, finally reaching the door between him and his family. With great resolve, Charles just placed the key upon its keyhole and twisted it, afterwards twisting the knob as well, and all this time hoping Alice had developed in this meantime a bit of a liking for drunkardness.
	- Honey? I am home already! Where are you?
	- CHARLES! YOU HAVE COME! Just a second, I am in the bathroom!
	Whilst waiting, he took a look at how his apartment was after this time he spent out. The furniture was all in order, and everything was quite neatly placed, as it should be. Certainly it did not seem like his wife had taken the time out of Charles to re-decorate the house, as he sometimes feared Alice would do. Breathing in relief, he decided to await for his wife in the bedroom.
	And what a surprise he found in the bedroom! In his bed! His wife had... changed the bed's place! Before, it was placed in the middle of the bedroom, offering a passageway for both man and woman as each would choose different hours to lay down and rest sometimes. This time, however, the bed was actually leaning against the wall of the room. This way, only one person would be able to ingress upon the bed's surface at a time. What shenanigans was that?! Was that some sort of message to Charles, that they should be sleeping more often the two at the same time?! Charles really disliked what he saw. Could all of this have secret meanings?
	At last, Alice emerged out of the bathroom, and upon doing so, she embraced Charles with a large smile on her lips. Mayhap a thieving tear or two could be rolling off from her eyes as well. Charles, surprised, simply repeated the gesture with his wife.
	- Oh, Charles, I missed you so! Where have you been all this time?! I was worried sick! You just kept telling me over the phone every day that you were being unable to find that Journalist you kept mentioning!
	- Why, yes, it was very hard for me to find him, since he was... such a recluse man! But do not fear anymore! I have found him, and now he will help us with our troubles.
	Then Alice reached out to kiss her husband. Her breath felt very minty, as she had just taken the time to brush her teeth since she was already in the bathroom anyway.
	- So, where is our little Aristophanes?
	- Why, he is in school! He has to study to become the greek philosopher we always wanted, right?
	- Oh, right. And you are not working today?
	- Well, I took the day off! I wanted to be here to greet you!
	- Oh, quite excellent... (I think...)

	Suddenly, a more profound, quite more lusty, kiss emerged from the mouth and tongue of Alice. It took Charles by a bit of surprise, and the kissing continued and improved to higher ratings of lustiness. Charles' hormones were probably by this time understanding more about what course of action was supposed to be taken, but his mind was not yet cleared on such things. Alice knocked away far his glasses, in what Charles though was quite a rude way of taking off the thing that solely represented 80% of one of his five (maybe six) senses.
	Alice later on would understand that such a course of action had really bad consequences, for disrupting Charles of his relation with one of his senses would be a quick way of making him think a lot about senses in itself. He would try to rate and give percentages about the various intaking rates of each of his senses per sexual action and/or position, as well as some added thoughts about the development of his own sixth sense, one which he constantly felt he did not improve at a decent rating. Charles had already started to envy Pasquim Elias for his very well-developed sixth sense, however this thought would have the side effect of bringing to the memory of Charles the very ugly sight of Pasquim and his deformed face, as well as his beer-barrel-belly with a faucet sticking out of its navel, not to mention the repulsive odor of alcohol that would turn ladies crazy if it were the smell of sweat. And, of, course, mixing a moment of passion with a moment of envy for Pasquim Elias would damage anyone's sex life thoroughly. The remembrance that Pasquim Elias was castrated would be of little help in this situation, since in this surrealistic exercise of lust and liquor it would be just as proper and no less arousing yet funny to simply imagine Pasquim interacting with whomever would accept an invitation to lay with him in his dirty cloth rag he called a bed by simply inserting into said person the faucet that presumably would fit perfectly in his navel.
	And finally, after Charles did this whole mental process in his troubled head, he started laughing after his wife knocked away his glasses. She got quite puzzled as to her husband's reaction.
	- Charles, what are you laughing at?!
	Oh Oh! What to answer? What to answer?!
	"Why, dear, I was just imagining a scene where a fat castrated drunkard has sex over a dirty cloth rag using a faucet sticking from his beer-barrel-belly into a lady's sex organs."
	Hmmm... no. Better not say that. Not today at least.
	- Oh dear, I am laughing because... because I am a happy guy!
	- Oh baby!
	Charles did make a vow this day, though. The phrase he envisioned on his mind was far too funny for him to never pronounce. One day he would have to use it. Maybe, he figured, it could be with the one he fancied and yet not even to the walls he would confess.

	The kissing progressed. It had already become clear what were the intents of Alice. Now it was time for Charles to get in the mood. Certainly he knew where they would end up, but Charles got very curious as to why the bed was changed in position. Question is, would the actual answer be one that would disrupt the mood that was setting in? Because, if the mood were disrupted, Charles would have to face a wife full of complicated questions about what he had been doing in the past days and such questions would come from a woman that did not get laid. And that was a dangerous thing.
	Therefore, Charles decided he would try to sway his wife into choosing as the place for lovemaking the sofa, and not the bed. This would stall the questioning for a bit. Stalling was good. So Charles took his hands out of their sleeves and started caressing Alice in the back and the chest, rubbing at a certain point her breasts as she sent out a moan of delight. Oblivious to these signs, Charles carried on his mission to push Alice into the place that would make him more comfortable in regards to the space-time continuum.
	- Charles! Hehe, come on! Stop this pushing! What are you trying to do bay?
	- Why, my lady, I merely wished we could get comfortable by that nice sofa we have on the living room? What say you?
	- Oh, Charles, by the powers! Why don't we simply go to bed?! It is more comfortable after all!
	- (sigh) Very well, we shall go to the sofa then!
	- No, the bed Charles.
	- Right, right, bed.
	And so Charles was pushed into that bed that did not seem very compatible with the principles of Feng Shui. Things got hotter for Alice as she got rid of her trousers and things got more puzzling for Charles as he searched amongst smells of a lusty woman for other smells that could reveal nasty naughty things Alice could have been doing whilst Charles was away. As tongue and lips met, a puzzled head lost its date with reasoning.
	Passionate love making commenced for the lass. Brainstorming love duties commenced for the lad.
	- Oh Charles! Oh Baby!
	- Surely, indeed.
	Oh, what troubled times! Poor Charles! He had a curse cast upon himself after giving birth: he was going to have lots of blood in his body, so that he would be able to think with both heads at the same time. The result was that indeed the lower parts of his body were sufficiently fed with proteins and minerals to perform in fair levels, but his mind did not stop racing as his lower heads completed lap after lap.
	What could Pasquim Elias be doing this time?! What kind of trouble would be awaiting for that uncanny team?! Would they succeed in their insane endeavor? How was Aristophanes doing at school? Was he charismatic with his classmates? Did the teachers like him? Were the teachers hot and arousing enough so that the little kid's hormones could be trained in both the arts of thought and naughtiness at the same time, therefore qualifying his circulatory system to have such incredible blood reserves as to allow his son to have the same thinking-whilst-fucking abilities?!
	Charles thought to himself for a second there. He was making love, and yet he was wondering at the same time if his son, generated pretty much in the same activity he was conducting now, would grow to be a man with large blood reserves. "Quite peculiar thoughts", he said silently to himself as he kept banging.
	But the most troubling thing that went on his mind was another one. He knew he would just sink in the moment and make truly passionate love if it were with the one he fancied. But who he liked, not even to the walls he would confess.

	Twenty minutes later, feeling his crotch muscles rather tired, and having seen signs that maybe his wife had already peaked its own pleasure more than once, Charles finally sighed and terminated his activities. Sweat was all over the strangely-placed bed. Alice could barely move, still reveling in delight. Charles was glad that it was all over already and kept himself from asking why in blazes was the bed was placed leaning against the wall.
	"Good thing I have been able to keep my wife from asking me the questions I feared she would ask!"
	- So, Charles, it is time now you told me about everything that went on in Londrina, right? Tell me everything, day by day, all right?
	"Drat! Maybe not!"
	- Oh... Alice... hm... I surely will tell you everything quite gladly... but you really could make me some coffee, don't you think?!
	- Oh, Charles, come on, it is so good to just lay naked here in bed after passionate lovemaking! Why don't you make the coffee! If you go to the kitchen now, though, I will be sad we will not be in the same room after this great time!
	"Not be in the same room? Sounds like bliss!"
	- Oh, bugger, Alice, I guess I will have to go to the kitchen and make coffee then! I will make you sad! So sorry!
	Charles then raced to the kitchen to make coffee. "Excellent! Got myself some 15 more minutes! Yiipe!"

	15 minutes elapsed.
	- Charles! Is that coffee not ready yet?!
	- Sorry baby! I have not drank good coffee for so long that I absolutely must make this next batch of the liquid that the gods themselves have in mount Olympus as good as the title it deserves! Please gove me 5 more minutes, I promise I will make some for you too!
	5 minutes more elapsed.
	- Charles, is it ready yet?!
	- No baby, sorry! I still do not feel the mix is quite heavenly yet! Please grant me a boon of 5 minutes more, then mayhap the mix will have reached an enduring quality upon or lips and tongue!
	5 minutes more elapsed.
	- CHARLES! GET THIS DAMN COFFEE DONE ALREADY!!!
	No more stalling allowed!
	- Right, right, I am going, I am going!
	Charles went back to the bedroom, two cups of coffee in his hands. His wife still was lying naked with her slim, tall white body stretching the surface of the piece of furniture that made her husband so puzzled.
	- It is done. Taste some of this coffee. I prepared it with magnificence.
	- Why, babe, naught in this world colored in black could taste better than thee, my favorite cocoa bean!
	- Why, thank thee, my favorite... uh... lass!
	The two kissed once more, even though truth was one of the two was lying. They both tasted the coffee. It was pretty good, although the gods in Olympus would probably differ.
	Coffee, some say, has very effective elements that can improve one's memory greatly. As both drank some more sips from their cups, the woman could not help but indeed remember that her husband had yet not told her anything that happened in the city of Londrina.
	What she did not know was that Charles, who also took some coffee himself, also had enhanced his mind with the excellent liquid. And, in so doing, he knew he had yet not spoken one work about his doings in Londrina, and it was time to do so. This way, he cleverly started telling what he did in Londrina.
	- Alice, my dear, I have done so much whilst I stayed in Londrina! First I had to go look for a hotel. Boy, does that city have fancy hotels! It was quite hard to find, at first, one that would be cozy enough for a good's night rest and also fair to my dwindling pocket. But fortunately I did found one that was pretty good. "Hotel Crowns" was my choice, a mighty fine hotel with a history of its own. It was one of the very first of the city, and so it was a hotel where the architecture of the old times was still preserved. Quite lovely really.
	- So these past five days you just sat in a Hotel in Londrina?!
	- Well, no. I also searched for people who could help us with our predicament, as was my role in that city. But it was very hard to find the correct person. You know, M. Elias himself was very hard to be found, since he constantly... hm... has to deal with many aspects of that city's life, both politically and socially. That busy man only could attend me the day before yesterday, and so I waited this time clearing my mind in many of the city's fine sightings. Alice, I only wished you could be with me when you saw the city park! Quite lovely! And the many ducklings that lived there! Oh, splendid! You should have heard them all going "Quack" all the time! We should take Aristophanes for a trip in the city sometime!
	- Sure, Charles, we can do that alright. But we must save money, don't you think? I mean, we are not broke, yet, but if we are careless, then we could be in a bad position later on, wouldn't you think so?
	- Worry not, my dear, worry not! Everything shall be alright!
	- I hope so. Is this Mr. Elias coming to help us here in Maringá? Or did he stay in Londrina, maybe helping us by internet or something?!
	- No, he is in Maringá. He actually should come over any minute now.
	- My, my! And here I am lying naked in bed! I guess I should go put something fancy on! This great journalist fellow must be expecting quite a welcoming!
	- Oh dear... don't worry too much about that...
	Charles prepared himself to light a cigarette, but Alice forbid him just in the nick of time.
	- Charles! You promised me you would stop smoking! And you smoke those "Parliament" cigarettes still! Those are awful, and so expensive! Think about your son! You wouldn't want him damaging his health for so large a price, would you?!
	Charles sighed and went to smoke by the porch. He needed a cigarette by now. Too bad his wife stopped smoking after she got pregnant. Since then, she did become quite a bit of a tight-ass.
	
	Midway through his cigarette, his son arrived home from school. Aristophanes dropped his few books on the ground and went on to hug his father.
	- Daddy! Daddy! You came back!
	- Yes, son, I did! So good to see you again, my dear! What have you done these past few days?
	- Not much dad, just waiting for you to arrive! What did you do in Londrina, dad?
	- Not much, son. Just went over to find an old friend of mine.
	- Old friend dad? Say, just as I was about to enter, someone by the building's door said he was coming here also to talk to you! Maybe it was your old friend?
	Maybe it was Pasquim. What did that drunkard tell his son, after all?
	- Oh, really? What did he look like, son?
	- Well, he looked really old, Dad. He also walked in a funny way, real slow. I guess it was because he was old, right? He had a very nice suit on, like those that you use when you have important business dad. And he also had a tie on, and some very shiny shoes. I think he must be hot, dad, with all those clothes on him. It is so warm outside! Oh, he was also smiling all the time, but it was one of those smiles of the bad guys on cartoons, dad. He looked very curious, and asked if I was your son. When I said yes, he told me he was your friend. Who is he, dad?
	Charles shivered. That was certainly NOT Pasquim. Probably that was one of Cleston's attorneys. Or maybe even something worse! Now these people were starting to mess with his family! That could not be allowed to be carried on!
	- Look son... what does mom and dad always tell you not do?!
	- Speaking with strangers and taking candy from them?
	- Yes son! Now, remember that next time, ok? And tell me if anyone strange tries to talk to you too, you understand?
	- Ok dad, I do.
	- Good. Now go put these books in your room, and we will talk later, alright?
	- Yes dad.
	Shrotly thereafter, the buzzer rang in the living room.
	- Must be your friend, dad!
	Charles took another puff from his cigarette, then answered the buzz.
	- Hello?
	- Hello, Mr. Rosetti! There is a crippled man here to see you.
	Another shiver.
	- Really? Who is it?!
	- Well, hold on...
	Muffled talk could be heard in the buzzer.
	- Sir, this gentleman... he says you should know your friends when they come to your house, especially the crippled ones! He insists that you should already know who it is.
	What was going? Were those fiends going to play with him for their amusement?! That prank was not funny at all, and Charles was as nervous as he was angry.
	- Well, I don't know who it is! Ask him to tell his name already!
	- All right sir.
	More muffled talk.
	- Sir, it is Mr. Pasquim Elias here. Should I let him up?
	Charles froze.
	
	Pasquim Elias? Crippled?
	- PASQUIM ELIAS?!
	- Huh... yes! Pasquim Elias...
	The muffled talk could be heard well this time: "Say, it's Pasquim Elias right? Yes, ok".
	- Sir, yes, it is Mr. Pasquim Elias!
	Perplexing! What happened to Pasquim? What did he do to be crippled?!
	- All right... send him up then...

	Charles opened the door, and awaited for Pasquim to arrive by the elevator. How could he have crippled himself, and why was he here and not at the hospital? What was going on?! And where was the fine man in a suit his son had met before?!
	The elevator arrived, and the door opened.
	Time seemed to move slowly as Charles saw a vision he never thought he would see in his lifetime.
	Door opens. Out of it comes... a cane!
	The hand holding the cane is that of an old man, however one of fine taste and elegance, as it is clear it is well-washed and with impeccable nails.
	A sleeve. A sleeve of a fine suit. Maybe not an Armani, but something good enough to pass in any ball party. A belly finely hidden under a layer of fine cloth comes shortly afterwards.
	And the face... the FACE!!!!
	It was a clean face, of a man who seemed to take care of himself once in a while. The gray hair was combed nicely. But this was an impossibility, because the face that accompanied the hair was...
	... wait! Those cheeks! Only flesh was visible in them. Not a hair! That would indicate that the man had previously done something unthinkable with a razor: he would have used it to SHAVE!
	But... THAT MAN? SHAVEN? COMBED? CRIPPLED? FINELY DRESSED?
	Quite perplexing!

	- Hello, my brother Charles! We meet again! What kind of face is that you put after seeing your good friend dropping by?!

	CHAPTER 6 - HE WHO HAS NO EYEDROPS USES SUNGLASSES

	Pasquim Elias. Former drunkard. Now, a gallant man in fine clothes. Quite a mutation! Not even Kafka would have dreamt of such! What could Pasquim have done in this little afternoon time to get such a gear? And how did he get crippled?!
	- Pasquim! ... you ... you look like a million bucks!
	- Not really. Actually, just 150.
	- This is amazing! I cannot believe this! Certainly whatever has crippled you must have something to do with your shenanigans!
	- Oh! You mean this walking cane? It is merely a farse! I just am walking around with this so people think I am crippled. But I am not, in truth. Pretty good disguise, would you not say?!
	- Incredible! Just... incredible! But is walking around looking like a cripple good for aught?
	- Certainly! It adds believability to almost anything you intend to do! You probably would not help a normal person cross the street, but would you refuse a cripple's plea?
	- Come on, you didn't really ask people to help you cross streets, did you?
	- Well, yes. Not just that. I asked them that because it was funny when they did help me. Nothing like seeing them go away and then walk normally thinking "ha! I fooled a sucker"!
	- Rather infantile amusement!
	- Indeed. Yet amusement all the same.
	By now both Alice and Aristophanes were curious to meet Charles' friend. They went to the hallway and greeted him.
	- Look! Dad's friend!
	- Hello, I'm Alice! A pleasure to meet you, sir!
	Pasquim bowed and took the lady's hand, kissing it gallantly.
	- A pleasure, mademoiselle! The name is Elias, Pasquim Elias. It is indeed an exquisite pleasure to meet such a fair lady! And such a handsome young youth as well! As is your name, valiant boy?
	- I'm Aristophanes, sir! A pleasure to meet you!
	- The pleasure is mine, chap! Rare is the moment one meets with a smart Greek philosopher!
	- You know about my name! It is so rare these days!
	- Hehe, indeed I do, son! Indeed!
	All was laughs in that apartment building. All but Charles, who was, just to vary, puzzled. Where in blazes did Pasquim make such a change of wardrobe?!

	As the family left the hallway and entered the apartment, so the neighbors would not be bothered about these people who talk so loud, Pasquim asked politely if he could take a seat, after which not only Alice replied he could, she complimented Charles about choosing such a fine gentleman as his companion on the perilous problem-solving they would have to do. But as soon as Alice and Aristophanes left the living room to go to the kitchen, Charles could not resist asking Pasquim what happened.
	- Pasquim! How come you are wearing these clothes?! Where did you get these?! This is not possible! These are far better clothes than any I would IMAGINE you ever wore!
	- I bet you have better clothes yourself, Charles! These look pretty, but that is only because they are new. A year or two, and these clothes will be as thorn as any other I own!
	- Still, I cannot believe you have actually been able to afford these clothes! How could you get them!
	- Simple, I use the things I packed with me in this trip!
	- What?! You bought this with those lousy twenty bucks you had?! How did you get so big a discount?!
	- Not THAT, you idiot! My other possession! Look, your family is coming! Wonder a bit more what it was that I took to this city, and you shall understand how I got these clothes!
	As the wife and kid arrived back, Charles and Pasquim amused them a little more. They sure did want to know what was going to happen next. They had plans to make, and some other worries as well. At a certain point, Alice could not help but wonder what was the true nature of the so gallantly dressed elder man.
	- So, Mr. Pasquim Elias, what is it you do for a living?
	- Ah, such a capricious question! Well, I would love to answer that! You see, in my Youth I graduated from university in journalism. And I studied the masters of journalism with great care hoping one day to have the same influence in society. Ah, to study Pulitzer, Kane, LaPlagia, and the other masters of the art of the written newspaper of yore...
	Charles had heard of Pulitzer, but never heard of any "LaPlagia". He also thought that "Kane" was probably the guy from "Citizen Kane", who was a character of fiction, even though based on a journalist. At any rate, Pulitzer and "Citizen Kane" were quite old in the XXI century to be know as "masters of journalism". How would they feel after the appearance of the Internet for example?! Pasquim explanation was turning out to be lame for Charles, but adequate for Aristophanes and Alice.
	- ... and so I studied, and studied, and studied! And then I got a job in a newspaper. Until one day the military decided to close my newspaper down due to their dictatorial demands and I was forced to be a rogue journalist if I wanted to change the world. Since then I decided that changing the world would be something far too hard to do and I simply chose to become a man who would profit from the world as it was. So I studied to be a lawyer, read the finest lawyers in existence, Canotiro, Lewinsky, Dostoyevsky, Frear, and many others, and now I am working for this case that Charles has asked me.
	Charles stood perplexed. Pasquim, a lawyer? And was Dostoyevsky one too?
	- Wow, Mr. Elias! With all these references, what has made you choose to help Charles and his lawsuit? It sounds like such a simple matter compared to what you must deal everyday! And we don't have much money to help pay for your services...
	- Not a problem! You see, for far too long have I wanted to work in a case of corruption and but behind bars a corrupt politician. Now I feel I have the chance! Besides, it would be a pleasure to help a fellow journalist in such times of need, we should help our brethren whenever possible! As for the payment, I have decided together with Charles that only if the case went smoothly I would have any pay. Otherwise, my work shall only be for free.
	- Oh my! What has been settled?
	- Well, if victory is ours, in exchange for my services, I would simply like to receive from your family the deed to the property located at Israel street, here in Maringá. I feel that it is time to expand my lawyers' firm to other reaches, besides Londrina.
	- Oh! How nice. Say would you like a bit of tea, sir? I was just about to make some. Would you be served?
	- Why, yes, I would most certainly! It would be a delight!
	- I will make some then. Make yourself comfortable please. - Then she turned to her husband - Charles, can you help me in the kitchen? Please?
	- What? Oh, sure, why not?
	Charles looked a last time to Pasquim Elias. The former drunkard winked at him. Surely all he had just told was a lie, but he felt Alice had not bought it. He felt she wanted to talk to him in the kitchen because she finally found out the man was a fraud.
	- Charles... are you sure of what we are doing to this man?!
	- What?! What do you mean?!
	- Well, this lawyer certainly seems like a great boon to our cause, but I am very worried about the payment we are giving him.
	- Oh. You mean our property on Israel street!
	- Precisely. Do you think that giving him the property is a good thing to do?
	- Why do you feel differently about it?
	- Well, the property there, it is so... worthless! We have been trying to sell it for months, and nobody wants it! It has nothing in there but rusty piping from the sixties, a shack that is in ruins, and that big wall in the property that desperately needs new painting! That wall is in such an ugly and horrible state that even those people who write graffiti and glue posters only do these things in the other walls of the street! Besides, that neighborhood is terrible! It has nothing but drunkards littering the streets and seedy pubs full of smelly ugly patrons! Why would the lawyer want that place after all?!
	Charles laughed in his head for what were hours in his head at his wife comment's. Who would like anyway to own a place with an old shack and a big wall near seedy pubs?! Could he ever have met a person who would like that?!
	- Well, baby, I guess we shall just hope our lawyer friend never cares to actually look at the thing he is getting right?! Right?!
	- Well, if you say so. But don't you dare lose this guy from your cause, he surely seems like a guy of a million bucks!
	- Frankly, I would say he is more like 150!

	Tea ready, Charles and Alice poured some in the living room for the visitor. Then all four of them, including Aristophanes who also enjoyed tea, drank merrily their cups of tea. They had a few small talks, but ultimately it was time for Pasquim to tell to the man with a family what should be done next in the conundrum of the lawsuit.
	- Well, Charles, night has begun to fall, and we have many things to do! You see, if it was up to me, we would start today. But you have a family to take care of, and the day is already starting to end, so I do think I should rather just go find a hotel to spend the night and come back tomorrow. So, I'll be going now, then.
	Pasquim arose from the chair with a frail look. He then started to walk slowly to the door, until Alice stopped him with a word.
	- Mr. Elias! Why don't you rest here today?
	- No. I would not bother such a fine family.
	- It is no bother! Please join us! You can sleep in Aristophanes' room, he can sleep with us!
	Alice would never accommodate a drunkard in her house. But a lawyer was OK.
	- Oh my. In that case I will accept the invitation! Of course, I need your approval, Charles.
	- It is done. By the way, maybe we should discuss our plans of action this very same day, then?
	- Charles, I would not like to discuss such business in such a nice environment. Let us do this tomorrow. Today, maybe we should think about resting and preparing for the next day!
	Alice intervened.
	- Say, there is a nice pub near here where they have good food and good drinks. Maybe Charles could take you there so you could discuss matters further. I think this must be important, and I would only be on the way. Charles, you should show this man a bit of this city's night life too, right?
	Incredible! Alice would encourage the two men to visit a pub!
	- Why, my fair lady, the idea sounds lovely. A pity that you would rather not accompany us, with your beautiful presence! May I insist you came along?
	- You may, but I shall refuse. Talking business sounds like something very daunting! I had better leave it to the gentlemen! Besides, Aristophanes will make me company.
	- Oh well, madam. A shame! Shall we go then, Charles?
	- Sure Pasquim, sure.
	And the two gentlemen set off. To a pub. Again.

	Many things to be answered. But later. For now, Pasquim just laughed very, very hard at what happened. The first day in many days that he looks actually quite sober, he is incited into going to a pub. Quite a happening!
	The two men left the apartment, went to the elevator, entered it, pressed the button to go down, and only started talking after the doors were closed. No reason to let by any chance Alice hear what they would talk about.
	- Pasquim, you puzzle me, always. I was very afraid that you would be received at my home with hostility. Instead, you made the day! Now my wife almost idolizes you, the "lawyer" who is such a gentleman and who comes to solve our many problems. She even sends we both off to the place where we could best sort out what shall be our next actions, a pub! Oh, by the way, which should we choose?! The one Alice suggested was quite fancy, but we can choose another one, of course.
	- Hm... I am wearing a nice suit, and I am quite dashing with this cane of mine. I feel like... a pimp!
	- A pimp?
	- Yes, a pimp! My clothing makes me feel like a pimp I saw many years ago in an episode of "Seinfeld"! Therefore, I feel like a pimp! Let's go somewhere where people might think I am pimp also! What say you?!
	- Hmm... that would mean we would have to go to a pub where we could find people who also watched Seinfeld. I know just the place, a pub of undergraduates!
	- Undergraduates! I love them! Let's go right away! But slowly... or better yet, not slowly! No need to fake I am a cripple until we get to the pub, right?! Anyway, feels quite good to stop faking for a while I am crippled. Say, quite slow movement, I must say! At any rate, it is slow, but it is very cahrming! And it does make people help you cross streets!
	- By the way, when are you after all going to tell me how you got these clothes and this cane?!
	- I told you already! I used that which I took with me in my trip!
	- But Pasquim! You just took those smelly twenty bucks and that por excuse for a wallet with you! I cannot possibly believe you could buy these things with a mere 20 bucks!
	- Charles! I used my WITS! They got me these fancy clothes! And they are going to be your ticket to freedom and victory upon the evil councilman Cleston!
	- Your wits! Boy, are they valuable! So, tell me the tale of how you got a cane and fancy clothes!
	- The tale is rather long. Care to hear it all?
	- Yes, I care.
	- Then let's make haste to he pub, for it will all go down better your system with a bit of beer!
	And Pasquim started his long tale. First, he was going to tell Charles how he got that fabulous cane in his hand. That tale would be enough before they drank some beer...

	... So... Charles, have you ever heard the old saying, he who has no eyedrops uses sunglasses?! It is quite like "he who has no dog uses a cat", and other sayings.
	Very well. I had no cash. Except for twenty lousy bucks. And that shave I got from the complimentary razor of the hotel, which I returne in order to convince the hotel clerk that a discount in our stay not a bad idea. But at any rate, I had perils before me that would certainly require more than a fat ugly drunkard to surpass. How could a drunkard pass as a fine gentleman to most of society? How?
	As I pondered these thoughts, opportunity stroke. A couple going back to their hotel room. A couple having a quarrel. Old people. In their eighties, their last years of life, if you ask me. The lady having a upset look. The man having a cane and a upset look. The question that made them angry: health.
	- John! Would you please take your cane and use it properly! You need this cane to walk! Without it, you are going to fall! And I will not raise you to your feet! No more!
	- Blast, Barbara! I hate this stupid cane! I am old, not a cripple! My legs complain less from the lack of the cane than you! Could you stop complaining so much?! I hate this from you! Always complaining! Complaining! And about something that is not even yours! These are MY LEGS! MY LEGS! NOT YOUR LEGS! MY LEGS!
	- Damn, John, every time you stop using this cane, you fall down! And then I have to pick you back up! And then, MY BACK goes bad! MY BACK! NOT YOUR BACK!
	- It has been over a week since I do not fall down! You can stop nagging me about it! I don't fall down anymore! I DO NOT NEED THIS CANE!
	- It has been over a week since you do not fall down because you have been using the cane! I must keep nagging you about it so you use it indeed! YOU DO NEED THIS CANE!
	- I DO NOT!
	- YOU DO!
	- I DO NOT!
	- YOU DO!
	- I tire of this argument! I tire of you! I will just smoke a cigarette.
	- You can't smoke a cigarette! It is bad for your health!
	- IT'S MY HEALTH! MY HEALTH NOT YOUR HEALTH!
	- YOU MUST NOT SMOKE OR ELSE MY HEALTH WILL SUFFER TOO! MY HEALTH! NOT JUST YOURS!
	The argument kept getting heated between the two old people. Many ears were being sore of the yelling. Eventually that nagging woman, Barbara, just went away. She went to take a nap. And so I was in the lobby, me and the old geezer. Me and my future self! So I decided to offer that man who would later remember me, when I made 80 years of age, a cigarette, to enjoy while the wife rested.
	- Say, old man, care for a cigarette?
	- Sure, lad. What brand do you have there?
	- Oh, let me see... hmm... I do not see any brand name here.
	- Well, it is not "Parliament", is it? I hate "Parliament"!
	- Parliament? No, it is not. How could someone like that horrid thing!
	- All right, hand me over that one. Ah! Cheap brand! Just like you buy in seedy pubs, right?!
	- Yep.
	- Ah, I was such a prospector of seedy pub in my youth! I knew all the pubs of Paraná once! I was a real estate dealer, you know, dealing with real estate everywhere. Paraná, Santa Catarina, São Paulo, all around Brazil! But now I am old, and I travel very little. And when I travel, I have to take my nagging wife! She complains about everywhere we go! Complained about even when we were going up the Eiffel Tower in Paris! Damned woman! Just because I fell down to the floor and almost died, because I did not have my cane handy! Damned woman! Sometimes I wish I had fallen from there! Would have been a mighty beautiful way to die, right? Falling from the Eiffel Tower!
	- Really nice! But you know what, you really need to get this cane lost somehow, don't you think?
	- Of course! But my wife will NEVER let me lose it! If I throw it away, she will simply go buy another one and force me to use it! So I just keep this cane here with me all time. It is better this way, I think. Maybe not, but I know no better way. If I don't carry my cane, my wife won't go anywhere with me. And I would have no one to lift me should I fall.
	- Wait, I have a solution! Why don't you say to her that your cane was robbed?
	- I thought about it. She will just buy another one, also. Besides who would rob a cane?
	- Maybe a crazy guy could rob your cane. You know, some drunkard. Maybe a lunatic who cares only for the welfare of stuff like a wall, instead of the health of real people.
	- Yeah, good guess! I only met a guy like that in Erfurt, in Germany. But I guess he died from cirrhosis already. No, not cirrhosis, serenity. Or was it cirrhosis really?!
	- Well, you should have thought about one extra detail! If you get your cane robbed, your wife would surely want you to buy another one. But there is a catch! You can just tell her that the very reason you were robbed was the cane itself! Therefore, you show to her that carrying a cane around actually endangers you and her! This way, she will not try to get a new cane, she will fear the cane robbers!
	- Why, yes, that is a very sly idea! Very sly indeed! I like it! Say, youngster (wow, that's a new one to me!), why don't you take this cane with you? I will just tell Barbara that it got stolen! Yes! I will say it got stolen!
	- Very good! Say, what story will you tell her?
	- Well, I don't know. I guess saying that it got robbed while I was not looking sounds too lame, right?
	- Yes, it does. Would not justify the trouble of not having a cane. Would not be dangerous. I suggest this: say that a raving lunatic wrestled you for the cane, saying that the madman wanted it to hit people who were trying to write graffiti on his wall back in Londrina. How about it?
	- Yes, very nice indeed! Actually, a politician friend of mine from there said that there was a fellow like that in that city. Have you heard that one yet?
	- Why, no! I never thought such things existed!
	- Yes, they do! My friend told me that four years ago, in the first election he tried to get elected, the lunatic had a big sword to hit people. Imagine, a man with a sword in the XXI century! Although, last month, it is said the man was using a simple shovel he got from some construction site. What could have happened to that sword of his? And, if he was going to hit people, why use a shovel? Would it not be of more flair to use some other weapon? Maybe a mace? Or maybe a flail?
	- Bah! I bet this crazy man just needed money to buy liquor! You know hese drunkards, how they are!
	- Yes, I do! Boy, could I have a better liver, I would like to be a drunkard... ah, what am I saying! Kid (kid who?), just get out of here and take this damn cane. Sell it to some ugly woman who wants her husband to have one. Just make sure the woman is not named Barbara!
	- Hehe, I will. Farewell, my good old man! Best wishes to you!
	I took off, then, with this cane in my hand. And, to make good use of it, I decided I would fake myself being a cripple. Therefore, I would have a fake reason to use a cane, a fake reason to have talked that old man into pretending he was falsely robbed. A fake reason to his wife's fake fear. All too fake things, and yet very real!

	- And, so it was, Charles, that I got this here cane! Quite a nifty thing, would you not say?
	- It is a fine cane indeed. But what will happen to poor john?!
	- Well, he will make his wife a bit shaken about these troubled times when even walking canes are robbed! And from now on John will have constant reasons to giggle a bit with his old wife. Simple minds, simple pleasures. Old minds, old pleasures.
	- And why in blazes is this cane and this fake crippling so useful for you?
	- Well, Charles, anything that can be found can be useful, if you know how to use it, and know how other people will end up thinking you are using it! But we are talking too much about these things already. Over there, is that the pub where we are going?
	- Well, yes, that is the pub. We have arrived!
	- Quite a long walk for a crippled man! He he!
	And Pasquim took his cane and pretended once again to have a crippled right leg. He chose this day to have a crippled right leg, another day he might choose a the left leg. His imitation of a cripple could not be better. Only a man truly blessed with good notions of sight and perception would notice that the cripple was a fake.
	As they both entered, many a person noticed the fine garb of the crippled man who entered. Little did they know that the newcomer was but an old drunkard who had quite some skill to cheat the senses of others. Charles and Pasquim took a seat by the bar, once more, where the gallant old man asked for a beer with quite flawless politeness to the bartender lady.
	- Excuse me, my dear madam, mayhap you would be so kind to go get some of that amber medicine recommended by the gods themselves to ease my failing composition and my bad leg? Many years have passed, and a taste of bitter beer would do wonders to remind me of the pleasures of youth, as much as the sight of such a pretty lady such as yourself reminds me of the freshness of these new brave times and the good things I still am to see in this life!
	After the beer bottle and two glasses arrived, Pasquim had a very important question to ask Charles.
	- Say, Charles... you are paying, right?
	- Sure Pasquim. But only if you tell me how you came by this very nice wardrobe!
	- Ah yes! Mayhap it was one of my finest byproducts of my wits to this day! Sit back for a while and enjoy the beer. And be ready to order another bottle soon, because this tale will require quite a few toasts later on.
	As he took a refreshing sip of beer, Pasquim Elias readied himself to show to Charles how it was that he made things work on his behalf.

	There was I, Pasquim Elias, walking with my crippled right leg, wielding bravely my walking cane. I had places to go, things to do. I wanted to visit the city's bustling center, the very commercial hub of it. And so it was that I made my way over there, bravely walking through these cities with my busted leg, and in many a street crossing I asked for help from the kind pedestrians.
As soon as I arrived in the region, my tired muscles and bones complained to me due to my constant walking. My body was hungry. And what better place to take care of that? Well, I knew the exact place I should go, a bakery!
Ah, what a fine bakery it was, lad! A large place, comfortable for he body and pretty to the eyes, right by the sidewalk. Very good indeed. As I entered the place, with my bad leg and my cane, soon a very nice gentleman came to attend me right by the counter. The lad had those pulled eyes, so typical of the people of the orient of this world.
- Hello, sir. How may I help you!
- Greetings, my good Chinese fellow! How ddo you fare this fine day?
- I do quite well sir. I hope you are welll too.
- Well, I had better days. I have been wallking these streets long, and as you can see my leg is not helping much!
- Yes, indeed the sidewalks of this city hhave not been very friendly to us. It seems that public policy only cares about automobiles these days!
- Yes, automobiles! If only I could drive  one! But anyway, please, before anything, could you spare me a nice cup of coffee? I need to regain my strength!
- Surely! With or without cream?
- Without. The bitter taste of coffee is ggood to my memory. I like to counterbalance the bitterness of being old with the bitterness of coffee. Makes me feel that, even though I may grow to be a very bitter old man, still there will be a thing that is more bitter!
- Very well, sir. Coming right up!
And the fine Chinese lad gave me a cup of fresh espresso which tasted quite good. It certainly did bring back much of the faculties of my brain in full shape!
- Ah, delicious, my good Chinese friend! BBut the truth is that I need more than just a cup of coffee today. I came here searching for something more.
- Really sir? What would it be.
- I came to buy bagels. Quite a few of theem.
- Sure, sir, I will get some from you. Howw many do you want?
- Well... actually, hmm... this is embarraassing because of all the trouble it will make... hum...
- Well, sir, don't worry, I will not tell  a soul about how many bagels you buy. No need to worry about guilty pleasures.
- It's not that, it's just that I need...  two hundred and fifty bagels.
- TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY BAGELS?!
- Yes. Two hundred and fifty. I am throwinng a party today, you see, and I really need lots of bagels. It is a small party, you see, and just 250 would do. Good thing I am sharing some of the pay of this party with a friend, though. Else, it would be a lot of cash for these many foods!
- Well, sir, those are a lot of bagels! I  surely don't have 250 bagels here with me ready. It will take some time to make them!
- Well, it is no problem. How much time wiill it take?
- Well... it is a good thing for you that  bagel bakery technology has made so many advances in this XXI century! Normally it would take a full day to make so many of them, but nowadays I think it can get it done in an hour and a half.
- Expended! Indeed, last time, many decadees ago, when I threw such a party, I had to plan ahead many days the baking of the bagels! I shall solve some other stuff, and be back in just an hour and half. Thank you, my good Chinese chap!
- No problem sir. I shall get baking then!! When ready, shall I deliver them somewhere?
- Yes, surely, but I still must set the prrecise deliver place. Actually, a part of it is for a friend who works nearby. But since I will be around, I shall be back later, to see about all these details! Until then, buddy!
- Until later! Now let me see where I havee placed all that left-over flour...
And so, the Chinese guy went on with his heroic task of baking all those 250 bagels. Meanwhile, as I awaited for them to be ready, I could not help but notice right across the street a very nice clothing shop. It had everything a nice gentleman would need for a good wardrobe. I crossed the street, helped by a good boy who helped me with my bad leg, and entered the place. A kind clerk came to help me and offered a seat so I could be more comfortable.
- Hello sir. Welcome! How can I help you tthis fine afternoon?
- Ah, sir, you see, I am having a party toonight and I do require a mighty good garb. Nothing outstandingly fancy, but something pretty for the eyes for at least one or two nights! As you can see from my current clothing, I do prefer much more comfortable, even if less gallant, clothing as it makes me a bit nimbler whilst I have to cross the city with my bad leg and walking cane!
- Very well, sir. Indeed, walking around tthe city in fine suits is not easy for those who have such impairments on their lives. Anything special in mind, sir?
- Well, I see over here that fine dark broown suit, as well as its matching trousers. Looks mighty fine to me. You have any thoughts?
- Well, it is a fine suit with a fair pricce. It is even on sale. We could provide with you some brown shoes as well as a brown belt and socks. To finish I would say we could get it mixing with a fine white shirt, as well.
- I see. Why don't you go gather these forr then? I would very much care to try them on!
- Surely sir. Just a moment.
And so, the good man went to get the many pieces of clothing, as I awaited holding my cane and cursing my tired bad leg. Soon enough, the man came by, gave me the clothes, and I tried them on a booth by the store. They fitted perfectly. I left the booth wearing them and keeping my old clothes in a plastic sack the man so kindly offered me.
- My good sir, I believe we have a deal heere! All the clothes you suggested are excellent! I will leave this place wearing them right on! All that is left for us to discuss are the costs of this mighty fine wardrobe!
- Very well, sir. The cost of it all wouldd be of 190 bucks. However, since we are on sale after all, I can just as easily make it 150.
- My, my, this is quite a deal! I have thee cash right here, as I had to draw some to prepare for the party! Let me just get my wallet...
But as I started looking for my wallet, I noticed something was terribly wrong! I had left it in the left pocket of my old clothes, and just as I took them off the bag, I could not see it there.
- Strange! I did not take my wallet of my  clothes. Where is it?!
I looked around the booth I used. Nothing. I looked all around the many other pockets and places of my clothes, even the ones I was purchasing. Nothing. The worst of my conclusions came to mind!
- NO! NO! SOMEBODY TOOK MY WALLET AWAY!
- What sir?! You have been robbed!
- YES! Some damned street urchin must havee put its hand in my trousers while I did not notice and pulled away my wallet! It probably was that lad who helped me cross the street! He must be reveling itself on the cash I took to make my party today! This is unbelievable!
- What world is this we live in?! People aare robbing poor old men who are crippled! This is an act of total lack of morality! Shall I call the police?!
- Surely, but... Oh drat! I know how thesee things are! Now I will have to answer all kinds of questions about this robbery to the cops, they will want to know details, all that nonsense that takes place whilst the robber runs away! Let me call the police later, good man. I will o it away from this store, I know that the police will bring bad looks to this fine establishment of yours.
- As you wish sir. We will help in any wayy that is needed.
- Worst thing now will be leaving and not  buying these wonderful clothes! Oh, I enjoyed them so much! I wish there was something to be done...
As I bowed down my head to start crying, suddenly a good idea came to my mind.
- Sir, wait! I know how I can pay for thesse things! Most certainly you know the Chinese fellow from that bakery right across the street?
- You mean Mr. Wong?!
- Yes! He himself! I did invite him to my  party tonight, and over there he will finally hand me over those 250 bucks he owes me! I could simply tell him to give 150 to you!
- Well, I suppose so, but how will I know  this is true?
- Easy lad! Just come with me over there aand we will tell him that. Give me a hand to cross the street, will you?
And so me and the salesman crossed the street and went to the front of the bakery. Over there, the Chinese fellow was certainly too busy, as could be seen. So I just waved and called his attention, then I yelled.
- HEY! CHINESE CHAP! YOU KNOW THOSE TWO HUUNDRED AND FIFTY?! SEND ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY TO THIS GUY HERE, FROM THE CLOTHING SHOP!
The Chinese fellow could be seen leaning upon a notebook, scribbling something, and then yelling back at me:
- OK! IT'S NOTED, FRIEND!
With things said and done, I took off. I said goodbye to the salesman, telling him I had to go to the police department. And so I took off.
And now, here am I, drinking some fine beer, with my brother Charles.

Charles heard the story perplexed. His mouth was wide open.
- Pasquim! I... I ... I have no words!
- That is too bad, you should pronounce riight now one thing.
- What?! What is it?!
- This!
And turning around and facing the bar, Pasquim yelled:
- MY BEAUTIFUL LASS, MIND BRINGING ANOTHERR BOTTLE TO THIS OLD MAN?!

	CHAPTER 7 - WILD HEART

	Neither Pasquim nor Charles cared to drink excessively in that night. Charles never drank in excess anyway, and Pasquim knew that too much alcohol could disrupt his perfect imitation of a cripple. A drunken cripple is sadder than a sober one, however not if discovered that it is fake. And Pasquim always took very seriously the Latin phrase that said "In Vino Veritas".
	Dreadfully, since there was only one bartender this time, it was quite difficult to gain a discount, however it was not that hard to swindle a nearby group into offering the two men a sip or two of their own beers, therefore increasing the alcohol count whilst dropping costs. The two paid their tab, courted the young bartender lass once more, and left the pub, going to Charles' home. In the way, Pasquim revealed their schedule for the next day.
	- Charles, tomorrow we must go to the home of your informant and pry out valuable  information.
	- But Pasquim, you then mean going directly to Cleston's house and looking for his daughter!
	- Well, since she is you informant, then yes, it means going there directly. Unless we can meet with her in another place?
	- Her father would never let me in! But maybe we could visit her in her school? I think she is studying in the Maringá University tomorrow. Maybe we can find her in the library. She is there all the time.
	- What is her major?
	- Well, she is studying... journalism!
	- Oh! We have heirs to our profession then! Is she any good in her studies?!
	- Oh, she is... remarkable. Not quite her older brother.
	- Really? What about her brother?
	- Oh, he studies law. And how to screw people too. Wants to follow his parent's footsteps.
	- Really? And I suppose the daughter does not?
	- Yes, I guess the daughter does not. I HOPE the daughter does not!
	- We will find out tomorrow! If we don't find her tomorrow at the university, we will have to go to the house of the councilman.
	- But how we shall get in then?! The father would never allow me!
	- The father would not allow Charles Losetti in. He would let Pasquim Elias. Tell you what, we split up tomorrow. While I go to the house of the councilman, you go to the university. How about it?
	- Fine, I think. Are you sure about what you are doing?
	- I always am! Just tell me where the house is and what are the name of the people inside.
	And so the two went to bed, resting before waking up early in the morning and looking for the daughter of councilman Joachim Cleston, called Victoria.
	Pasquim fell asleep quite quickly after arriving, in the bed of Aristophanes. But Charles could not help but accidentally waking up his wife and son in his room. He had to talk to his wife about the developments of the day. He told her about the few bottles of beer they had, and their decision to search for clues about the councilman in the morning. But Charles said not a thing about the councilman's daughter.

	Morning. Pasquim arose from bed in an excellent disposition. He put on back his fine suit and took his cane. He felt today to be crippled from the left leg instead of the right one, but decided against it so Alice would not notice anything suspicious. He asked politely if he could take a shower, and after such a privilege was granted, he stepped right in to refresh himself a bit.
	Charles went after him, and just before entering the shower his wife smacked him a big kiss, and said that she would shower with him if only she were not afraid she would be too forward near Pasquim. Charles wondered whilst showering what could possibly seem too forward for the Pasquim Elias he knew.
	After putting on his fine suit and taking his cane, Pasquim awaited for Charles to be ready as well. As he awaited, he took from the house a magazine he had found and read a few pages. It was a news magazine. Pasquim read a few tidbits of the thing people called "journalism" these days. Then he sighed and thought to himself how dull the profession had become. He remembered the days when he and Jorge (now know as "Wonder George") Searched far and wide for news that rarely someone wanted them to find. When the world was a truly dangerous place with the cold war and its menaces above everyone's head. When there was a feeling that a small news item that could go against the will of the militarists to ruled Brazil all through the seventies could be a step to make the country and the world a better place. But the XXI century, it seemed, was all about bickering people trying to get more money from other people, if possible without working and without caring for the rest of the world.
	But these thoughts faded quickly after Charles finally got ready. It was time to get going. And after all, complaints about how the world was turning out could be filed for later processing with a bit of booze.
	Pasquim did notice a curious thing about Charles' garb as he presented himself to him. First of all, Charles had taken quite a bit of time to ready himself, denouncing in this time spent great care as to how he would look. Second, he did not choose a look that would make him look like a sober businessman or a corporate executive with great interest in straightforwardness. Instead, he opted for a look that would still make him look serious, and yet could look good at the same time. It was as if he was going out to get some tail instead of searching for clues to incriminate a corrupt councilman. Alice had a quick comment to make of her husband's attire.
	- My my, Charles! You look handsome! And you are wearing perfume today as well! You never wear perfume! Surely Mr. Elias seems to encourage you to put out your best!
	Charles giggled as his wife gave him another big kiss. He and Pasquim then headed out the apartment. Pasquim gave Alice a kiss in her hand and Charles one in her mouth as they left the home. In the elevator, the two discussed their next plan of action.
	- Very well, Pasquim! We must talk inventory now. I have agreed with Alice to take with us our car, she will take the bus today to go to work. I would ask you if you wanted to take the car, but I would bet that you do not have a driver's license.
	- Of course I do! Why wouldn't I!
	- You do?!
	- Surely! However, I did not actually renew it for a long time. I think it expired already!
	- Oh, right. Well, anyway, while I go to the university Campus, in the car, do you think you should get a cab to go to Cleston's house?
	- Well, not to go there, but maybe to leave it. It would be quite low-profile for a man who wishes to speak with the councilman to leave using the bus. But he has no business caring about how I got there!
	- Fine. Take this bit of cash here for the taxi ride. Also, I have told you the address already, right?
	- Yes, I have it written right here.
	- Oh! One more thing! I also have my cell phone right here with me. Which one of us should keep it?!
	- Let me have it, if you will. It might help me get a clue as to whatever I should try to speak with the councilman. Besides, I have a felling you really would not care much to have the wife nagging you this fine day, would you not say?
	Charles blushed.
	- You know me quite well already! Fine then, Pasquim! Just go over to the councilman's house, I will look for the girl in the university and, if she is not there, you probably will find her yourself. Pasquim, have you got a plan as to what you should say?
	- You know me. I always do!
	And so they went their separates ways. Charles to the garage where his car awaited, and Pasquim to the nearest bus stop, where he would have to find out which bus would go near the councilman's home. Good thing he could ask for a free bus ride thanks to his crippled leg!

	Charles arrived at the university. His heart pounding quickly, he parked his car near the library and boarded out of the vehicle. He then made his way to the front gate and found himself barred there from entering. Standard policy, to at least ask who is the person entering the place before effectively letting said person enter. Charles just signed in as a visitor and entered the library. Inside, he would look at all the tables searching for the person he fervently hoped had chosen this time of day to use the services of the facility. It generally was in such a person's routine to choose these hours of the morning to read a book or two there. It would be good for Charles that such a routine continued this day.
	Lo and behold! There she was! Sitting by a table, near a bookshelf of journalist entries, she was there reading a book about something Charles did not care. He took a deep breath, felt his heart pounding ever so quickly, and approached the table where the woman quietly read her book.
	- We meet again, Victoria.
	The girl's face bore a startled look. It could not be. That man had found her over there, in the library, where she liked to read exactly because she would be free from hassles. Now he was there, right before her, and calling for her attention. Quite alarming, and yet, quite a pleasant surprise.
	- Charles! It is you! What are you doing here?!
	- Well, Victoria, the things I have gotten myself into since that lawsuit, you just wouldn't believe it!
	- Charles! You look so tired and weakened! What have you been up to these days?! What has that man, "Wonder George" made you do?!
	- Victoria, Victoria... You just would not believe if I told you! Jorge told me to go to Londrina and seek there... Pasquim Elias!
	Victoria opened her eyes widely.
	- PASQUIM ELIAS?! "THE" PASQUIM ELIAS?!
	Someone said in a part of the library "shhhh!" in response to this loud talk. Victoria soon regained her composure.
	- Wow, Charles! You are remarkable! First you make contact with the famous "Wonder George" and then he even tells you how to find the incredible Pasquim Elias, founder of Elias' Press & Journalism Inc., and the grand winner of the Paraná Press trophy '95!
	- Well, thank you Victoria! I always feel that you are one of the few persons in this world who really understands me.
	- Oh, Charles, I am sure that more people must love the way you do and say things. You are such an accomplished man. A great writer. A fine journalist. A caring father. I would bet that your wife also gets the way you are, right?
	- Oh, her... well... you know how things are...
	...
	Awkward silence.
	- Say, better if we just let the subject go.
	- Yep, sure thing.
	...
	- Well, anyway, Victoria, can you guess why I have come here looking for you right in the library?
	- You knew where I was going to be and missed me?
	- Oh, that too. In truth I came here to see about that... unpleasant business...
	- Oh, I see, that blasted lawsuit my father has put up upon you. I am so sorry about it! I feel as if I am responsible!
	- Now, Victoria, do not say that! If it were not for you, then we never would have this chance of doing what is right in this city. The only thing I never understood is what grace came upon you to tell upon your own father about the corrupt things that he has been doing.
	- You know why it is! I was raised to be a good person, mom and dad always taught me about how I should only strive to do good. And then everyone I knew said the same. Then, when I found out father was a corrupt politician, I just had a most terrible feeling everyday! I never quite knew how to face this terrible thing! And as I sank in depression and wanted to kill myself, only with the Journalists I found some way to express all this anger at this world gone mad. I am specially thankful for a certain tall and handsome black man who always said so many good things to me...
	Charles blushed. Victoria was the only person that made him feel as his words were being read and listened, he felt she was the person that showed him the world had hope yet. He cherished those rough three years he had know that sweet lass of a corrupt father.
	- Thank you Victoria, such kind words!
	- What?! Oh you think I meant you?! No, no, I meant another guy, one of my neighbors!
	- Oh! You mean... ah... eh...
	Awkward silence. Another tall lack guy was a part of Victoria's life! Charles felt cold with near despair!
	- Kidding!
	- Oh, my!
	- Charles, you fall for that one all the time! Of course I meant you!
	Laughs.

	- Victoria, you do know that time is running short. Pasquim himself is going to your father's house and...
	- PASQUIM ELIAS IS GOING TO MY HOUSE! WOW!
	Another "shhhh" in the library.
	- Oops! But Pasquim Elias going to my house... sounds incredible! I wish I was there! I wonder what he is like?!
	- Well, he is a lunatic drunkard who hits people with whatever medieval weapon is at hand and also swindles shopkeepers into giving him clothes in exchange for bagels! Oh, I forgot, he also likes to fake being a cripple!
	- Charles! This is no way to talk about a legend of journalism! I am quite sure that the winner of the Paraná Press Trophy '95 would never turn out to be such a menacing person to society!
	- Oh, you are in for a surprise! Maybe the winners of the Paraná Press Trophy '96, '97, '98, '99, 2000, 2001, 2002 and 2003 are more like the stereotype you are thinking. But not he who won in '95. No ma'am!
	- Well, I find that hard to believe!
	- I also did. I do not anymore.
	- Well, anyone, so Pasquim is going to my house. He will meet my father there?
	- Yes. And I d hope he has good material to do his act! It would help if he knew what he should talk to Joachim about!
	- Well, Charles, all I have come to discover about is that the illegal money came from Portugal. And it has something to do with soccer!
	- Soccer in Portugal?! This sounds like a good clue.
	Actually, something was quite odd in this. Charles felt that for some reason this clue was vital and had a strange connection with all the things that were happening.
	- Victoria, I will go outside and use a payphone to call Pasquim Elias. He has my cell phone with him. I will tell him what you just told me.
	- No need for that, Charles. Here, use my cell phone to call him. Just go over to some distant bookshelf to do it. Someone definitely with reprimand you from talking in the cell phone in the library!

	Pasquim left the second free ride he took on a bus. The drivers of Maringá allowed a cripple to board their vehicles free of cost. He was just a block away from Cleston's house. Seeing no one in the street, he cursed that fact that there was no one to help him cross. SO he slowly made his way to the house with his bad leg and cane, until midway through this painful walk the cell phone he carried started to ring.
	The ring tone that played was "La Carmencita", a famous Tango. Pasquim cursed his foolish friend who just couldn't look professional and have a cell phone whose ring tone sounded like "riiiing!". Cell Phone Music was a thing Pasquim always detested. He looked at the cell phone and saw the caller ID: "Victoria". What should be done?! Was Cleston's daughter trying to talk to the man who she informed constantly?! What would she do if suddenly an old man with an old voice answered the phone?!
	Pasquim decided it would be best to do some more voice mimicry this time around, and put on a really "old man in his last days" accent to cover up his talk. This, of course, had no effective reason to be done. But Pasquim liked faking voices and physical defects, and so went on with his parody of himself.
	- Hello... (cough) ... Hello? (cough)
	- Pasquim?! Pasquim?! Is that you over there?! Hello?!
	Who was that man who knew Pasquim's name?! Had his cover fallen already?! Was his life in danger?!
	- Who is... (cough) (cough cough) ... who is this talking?!
	- Pasquim! It's me, Charles! Are you alright?! You sound horrible!
	- Oh, Charles, (cough) I believe those cigarettes are finally taking their toll on my frail body! (cough)
	- PASQUIM! Where are you?! Shall I call an ambulance?
	Then Pasquim switched to his normal tone.
	- No Charles, I am simply faking I am ill. By the powers, have you not noticed yet how much I like to do impersonations?! Damn, nobody has any sense of humor these days!
	- Oh, I see.
	Impersonations over the cell phone. Great. Anyway, nothing from Pasquim amused Charles anymore.
	- What is it, Charles?! And why are you over on the girl's phone talking?
	- Well, she just gave me a clue as to what you should talk about with Cleston.
	- Alright. Shoot. Tell me.
	- She says the illegal money that came to his account seems to have originated from Portugal, and has something to do with soccer.
	- Portugal, and soccer. Alright. I mentally noted it.
	- Very well. Over and out. Good luck Pasquim!
	- Luck is a lady and I get her laid. Worry not.
	After this rather explicit commentary Charles went back to Victoria's table.
	And soon after hanging up, Pasquim noticed that "Portugal" and "soccer" where stuff that no one should pronounce to Pasquim Elias and not hope that memories would flush back into the head of the old man.

	Just as Charles arrived at the table where Victoria waited him, the cell phone he was carrying started to ring. A ring tone that went "riiiiing!".
	"Shhhhhhhh!!!!!" Said that nagging voice somewhere in the library that seemed to be able only to make such sounds.
	Charles looked at the phone. The caller ID was "Big Gorgeous Charles". If it happened to be his cell phone on the other line, then this caller ID entry would need a serious explanation.
	But as he looked at those words and daydreamt, the phone went "riiiiing" again and the voice went "shhhhh" again, meaning that it was probably time to answer the call already. He would have passed the phone back to Victoria, but he had a felling the call was for him, not her.
	- Uh, 'allo? Pasquim?!
	- CHARLES! YOU SMARTASS! WAS YOU "CLUE" SOME PRANK BY WONDER GEORGE"?!?!
	What was that?! Prank from Wonder George?! What had he to do with any of this?! And why did Pasquim sound so mad?!
	- COME ON!!! "PORTUGAL"?! "SOCCER"?! JORGE CERTAINLY TOLD YOU WHAT THESE WORDS HAVE TO DO WITH ME!
	Portuguese Soccer had something to do with Pasquim?! What in blazes was going on?!
	- Pasquim, I have no idea what you are talking about! Are you mad? Have you been drinking?!
	- I wish I was drinking! Now I have to talk to a corrupt councilman and you and Wonder George make it all look like a prank! That is not something to be done with an old man!
	- Pasquim, I swear I do not know what you are talking about! Now, will you do your part of the task? Or should I go myself to the house of Cleston.
	- bah! I will go anyway. But this story is too strange for my liking! You better beware!
	- Fine, fine Pasquim! I will! Now get going!
	After hanging up, Charles reminded himself never to be amused at Pasquim Elias and his antics. He was an unpredictable man.
	Charles sat down and talked about more trivial matters with Victoria. He awaited for any outcome from Pasquim Elias to be noted through the cell phone which his female friend carried.

	Meanwhile, Pasquim Elias went to a phone booth near the place he was at at full pace, purposedly not faking to be a cripple to gain speed. He did so only after noticing that there was not a soul on the street could notice that.
	A phone rings. A collect call. From Maringá directly to the office of the great journalist name Jorge but known as "Wonder George".
	- Collect call?! I shall accept it, but the only man who could make me collect calls is a certain drunkard I know!
	And in the other side of the only, indeed, not a drunkard but nevertheless the same man he predicted was talking. And seemed angered.
	- Wonder George! I assume you have some explanation as to why Cleston's daughter speaks of "Portugal" and "Soccer" in the same sentence!
	- She does?! That is quite odd, really. Is she some fan of any handsome player from the riverbanks of the Tejo?!
	- Stop these shenanigans! It was not just chance that brought me and Charles together, you put your influence between us and united our paths. But now you are trying to USE the poor daughter of the councilman to put me in the way of MY PAST?! What is going on?!
	- What are you saying?! All I know about that girl is that she is the one who tipped off her father. When did she talk about Portuguese Soccer anyway?!
	- Like you did not know! She says it is the only clue she has as to her father's illegal dealings! But involving ME in these issues AGAIN by mentioning THIS?! Quite devious!
	Pasquim could not see that Wonder George, on the other side of the phone, had dropped his jaw.
	- BY THE POWERS! Pasquim, I SWEAR I did not know any of this! But don't you see how fortuitous this event is?!
	- You swear?! You really swear?!
	- Yes, I do!
	If there was one thing Pasquim could believe, was in any oath of Wonder George. He placed blind trust that he would not lie to him on this.
	- Well... Wonder George... if you do indeed swear... then I shall believe you. But at least answer one question! Why it was that you pointed to Charles to go after ME to help him?! What is the reason?!
	- The reason is a simple one. When I heard that the only connection between the councilman and his illegal dealings was something in Europe, I knew that only you combined the skills required to find out the proof of his actions as well as useful resources that you happen to have. This adding to the fact that Charles himself could help you. The trade off for you would be the deed to that property on Israel street, the only kind of payment I believe you would accept.
	- Fine. You were right. This kind of endeavor is the only kind I would do besides drinking the rest of my life until I got cirrhosis. But, wow, Wonder George... this is turning out quite differently than I would expect! If the illegal dealings are in Portugal, than that must mean that... that maybe I might get to see again that old geezer!
	- Are you talking about who I think you are talking?!
	- Yes, he himself!
	- I thought the same, Pasquim. I thought the same. Maybe he can help you and wrap this case up for both of you.
	- I sure hope so. Boy, I wonder how he has been doing after al these years!
	- He still is a champion. One of the most renowned men in Portugal to this day at what he does.
	- Good to hear that. Anyway, I guess it is time to go, I must still go face to face with councilman Cleston and see if indeed he has a finger in this Portuguese soccer business.
	- Godspeed, Pasquim! Until Later!
	Pasquim hanged up the phone and went finally the front of Councilman Cleston's house. This time, it was best to put the cripple imitation back on.

	Cleston's house was a very luxurious-looking place. It had a classical architecture, with a front yard that was pretty large and stone stairs that really looked pretty. In the front gate there was a buzzer. Pasquim pressed the button and shortly thereafter someone answered.
	- Hello? Who is this? - said the voice in the buzzer, probably Cleston's maid or servant.
	- Why, hello there! My name is Joachim Paschoale, and I have come as a councilman from Guarapoava to, if possible, talk with councilman Cleston about a joint venture I would like to propose between Maringá and Londrina.
	- Very well, sir, I will see if he can see you. Just one second please.
	Pasquim did know that there was a window or camera somewhere from which the maid could see him, but he did not pause to look at the house and search for signs of being spied. He felt it was better just to assume that.
	And, since he was assuming he was a spy, nothing better than to fake that he was Joachim Paschoale, councilman from the city of Guarapoava, not far from Maringá. The disguise seemed to fit. Better than saying he was Pasquim Elias, drunkard swindler from Londrina.
	Soon the buzzer replied to Pasquim that he could come inside. And so he did, stepping inside with a whole new persona.
	The inside of the house was as magnificent as the outside. Full of decorations and luxury items that Pasquim once had, but now cared no more for. He pitied Cleston for being the kind of man who consumed such items with probably so little of the true amusement one should have with the things that can make a person happy. He also hated the fact that all of that must have been bought with stolen corrupt money. But it was not time for these things. It was time for politics between two councilmen.
	Soon a large man, very young and with a very stupid and ogre-like face came to the room and addressed the visitor:
	- Hello, sir. I am Joachim Cleston jr., son of the councilman. He is busy right now with a few papers that need work. You would mind waiting for a little bit?
	- Why, not at all, young man, I would be delighted! I will just take a seat here then.
	Pasquim remembered when Charles told him that the Councilman had a son that was just as rotten as his father. Certainly this large man with more muscles than morality was the one. Probably more interested in getting the next piece of tail than the next act of heroism. Pasquim felt he could try to have a few laughs at the fellow.
	- Say, quite a turbulent time we live in, would you not agree?! The elections for mayor and city council have happened all over the country, and still many of the elected, and even some of the non-elected, still are having all sorts of problems with electoral law! Quite a ghastly thing, would you not agree?!
	- Uh? Well, surely, quite ghastly, I would say too.
	- Why yes. Indeed, such matters do make one aghast, indeed especially after all those discussions regarding the twelfth paragraph of the third article of the regional electoral code. Indeed, the form in which it was written is certainly a thing that leaves room for too many interpretations. Some even make me aghast at all that I hear! That certainly is a very complicated part of the legislation, would you not say?!
	- Uh... yes, indeed, complicated, ghastly. I myself do feel aghast at it too. It is quite an aghasting thing. Well, I have something to do in the... uh... bedroom, an I will get going. My father will be here in a second.
	And so the young man left the room, wondering what exactly did "aghast" mean.

	Not very long afterwards, came the councilman himself, Joachim Cleston Senior. He seemed very delighted to have an opportunity to do business with a fellow member of the profession who acted in another city. Such opportunities many times left room for one or two tentative business arrangements involving aspects of questionable integrity, and such profitable deals always were something that the councilman did have an eye out for.
	- Councilman Paschoale of Guarapoava! A pleasure to finally meet you! How are you faring these days?
	- Well, these have been quite tiring times! The city council has just been chosen in this last election and I already am preparing myself to take the post in the following year. It has been quite a hectic time, these past fast months of campaign!
	- Tell me about it! I was very luck that the good people of this city have accepted to re-elect me in this position! I sure hope that in the coming mandate I can right more wrongs than I have already been doing in these last four years!
	- Is this not the case for all of us?! Doesn't all councilman of this vast country strive only to make the best for its people, and bring forward the prosperity we all seek?
	- Indeed, the gods themselves have entrusted us with such great care to these responsibilities, and we must not fail them!
	The conversation between the two clearly seemed to point out that neither had already noticed that the campaigning moths were over and that they already had granted their seats in the city council. Both real and fake ones.
	- At any rate, my good councilman Paschoale, I imagine you have business with me and the city of Maringá in this fine day?
	- Why, yes, indeed I do! I have come here to make good use of these last two months of the year to see if I can already do some of the work that shall be under my jurisdiction as soon as I am placed in my elected charge. To show good faith to the people of Guarapoava, I feel that it should be my responsibility to start filling already a bit of the debt the city owes with the terrible expenditures of this electoral year. I have come due to the fact that I have know of your great experience with fair management of money, an art that as it seems there are none the wiser.
	Cleston's eyes suddenly showed a certain glow of their own. It seemed as if Pasquim had just hit the councilman's cup of tea. And best interest, too.
	- I see. And how exactly do you plan to help the city increase its payroll?
	- Well, the idea is quite a bit complex, I feel. Mind you, do you happen to have an interest in... say... soccer?
	- Soccer?!
	Cleston raised an eyebrow.
	- I have quite a liking, yes. Personally I feel that my team has not been doing very well in this year's league. I do hope it is just this year that things get so amiss!
	- Why, indeed, my team is also doing badly. But I am not talking about exactly teams from our liking or not. My interest is in soccer players.
	- Soccer players?
	- Yes. Let me explain. Certainly you must know that these days Brazil has been having a tendency to be a country whose best players and coaches get to play in teams in other countries. Why, the Official Brazilian Team for the world cup is composed almost solely of players that do not play in Brazilian teams!
	- Yes, I do understand that. A shame that the teams of our country have little to offer to superstar soccer players like those we see leaving, do you not think so?
	- I reckon, indeed. I figure it is no surprise to you also that most player go to Europe to play, right?
	- Yes, the soccer leagues of Europe are quite competitive and much cash flows in it.
	- Indeed. And finally I get to the point of this all. Certainly you know of the Bosman law?
	- Bosman Law? The law that determines that a foreign player in a soccer team is not considered foreign depending on the team's nationality and the player's?
	- Yes! As you know several teams over there have a problem with excess foreign players. And this applies to Brazilians, too. European teams cannot have many Brazilian players on their team or else they have problems with the legislation that states that soccer teams can have only a certain amount of foreign players.
	- Fine, I follow you to this point. What is your business then?
	- I ask you one more thing: what is the only country in Europe where Brazilian players can play without making the team worry about its quantity of foreign Brazilian players?
	The glow on Cleston's eyes became stronger.
	- It's Portugal!
	- Portugal! So now you see what I am trying to do. I have certain arrangements to... hmm...  help the city of Guarapoava increase its cashflow thanks to the city's backing of quality soccer players that wish to make profitable careers in Europe.
	- Why, this idea sounds lovely! Where does the... city of Maringá enter in this arrangement?
	- Well, I would like the ... city... to help our own ...city... to prosper in this endeavor by, say, facilitating the access to Portuguese soccer market.
	- Fine. And maybe you could tell me WHO it was that told you to seek me here in Maringá about such business. After all, I would bet that few people come to Maringá and simply asks a humble councilman about soccer business, right? I would believe someone has told you to seek me of all people.
	This time, no more faking could be taken place. It was time for Pasquim, or Joachim Paschoale for that matter, give out a name that could justify why that conversation was taking place. It was time for names. Names.
	- Who told me about your possible was...
	Who? Who should Pasquim try out?!
	- ...Amílcar Cipriota.
	Silence.

	The mouth of Cleston was opened. Yet no sound came out of it.
	He was dazzled. But Pasquim felt that it should be better to pretend that the councilman had not gotten the point.
	- You might know him by the name "Hamilcar of Cyprus", if the words fit better.
	Time to get off the dazzlement.
	- Yes, yes, Hamilcar from Cyprus, Amílcar, I know the man... and he was the one that indicated you to me?!
	- Yes. That was the person.
	- Why... I never... I never thought my fame would go as far as to Amílcar!
	- You can see it did.
	- Very well, then. I shall then make preparations so that the "city" can help you... and the city of Guarapoava too, of course.
	- Of course.
	- Let me tell you what should be done. You must contact in Portugal the coach of the Bethlemians team, Guriban Withelp. Few Portuguese have been as helpful to Maringá as he has. He is the man who has been making the bridge between Portugal and our valuable Brazilian players.
	- Very well. And what shall be your part in this process?
	- Well, I shall contact the coach first, and talk to him about the arrangements required for the arrangement to work. He shall prepare with him and the football club the necessary documents with the arrangements. I shall also need some papers from you to confirm your part in this all and make sure that the ...aid... arrives properly to the... city treasury.
	- Excellent. I shall you then what is to be done. First of all, I shall contact both Hamilcar of Cyprus and mr. Withelp. Then, when all is arranged, I shall give you the papers with the... billing address.
	- Well, all right. Is it all?
	- Yes, it is for now. We shall talk later when all is arranged. You shall hear from me again.
	- Oh! I forgot! Care for a cup of coffee before leaving?
	- Coffee?! Tempting, but my doctor does not think that is good for my bad leg.
	- Oh, I see. Medical issues.
	- Is the Coffee Irish?!
	- It can be.
	- Pour it up then! To hell with health!

	After drinking up some refreshing Irish Coffee, made so due to an exquisite Scottish Whisky bought with money made with Portuguese soccer league corruption, Pasquim finally left the house, limping with his bad leg, and called for a cab to return home.
	After the cab arrived, he said farewell to his host who told him about the many ways "cities" can raise a bit of cash, and boarded the taxi. Still licking his lips to get the last tastes of the excellent whisky he drank, he told the driver to go ahead and drive back to the address of Charles' House. However, just after the driver started driving there, he remembered that it maybe was better to go to the university, where Charles probably was. So he called with the cell phone to Charles, who probably had Victoria and her own cell phone with her.
	Charles answered the phone. He indeed was with Victoria's cell phone by him.
	- 'Allo?
	- Hey Charles. Where are ya?
	- Me? Maringá Library.
	- I am coming over. Wait for me there. Bye.
	And Pasquim hung up the phone.
	Soon after telling the driver his new destination, Pasquim's phone rang. With that irritating tone.
	He saw the caller ID. It was written "The Girl I Fancy". Was it Alice calling?
	- 'Allo?! It's Pasquim speaking.
	- Hey, It's Charles. Meet me in FRONT of the library. I will be there soon.

	Charles hung up the phone and turned to talk a few last words with the one he fancied. She was writing some bit of lettering.
	Charles had gained much courage these last days. Pasquim Elias gave him the courage to do some reckless things he yearned long to do. He wanted to follow his passion. Do something he fancied.
	- My dear, could you hold a phrase for me inside your letter?
	- Hm, Charles, what would it be that you want... hidden.
	And Charles leaned over the table to whisper in the girl's ear.
	- I want to hide a kiss in the foldings of your blouse.
	Victoria was startled by this phrase. And at the same time she got very happy. She knew that the only person who could say that to her and make her like it was Charles. Then she whispered in his ear.
	- My dear, my place is where you want it to be.
	Charles smiled as well and took her hand. Then the two of them went to a more hidden part of the library.
	And upon reaching a certain part where they had the company only of books and bookworms that ate them, finally they hugged each other strongly, as Charles whispered once more in Victoria's ear.
	- I don't want my mind to think, I want what the soul lingers for. I want your body, I am in a hurry to feel alive.
	- Oh Charles! But when you hold me, hold me slowly. Kiss me slowly. So I have time to fall. To fall in love.
	The two hugged each other. Slowly. And then they kissed. Slowly. And the lady's hand went directly to that of the she fancied. She directed his hand to touch her. It went directly to her breast. First in the outside, then beyond the buttons of the blouse and into its inside. Charles looked in full bliss and Victoria moaned in pleasure and Charles looked in full bliss at what was happening that he yearned for so long. He took a look at the nipple he touched. It had a beautiful brown color. It contrasted beautifully with Victoria's paler yet currently tanned coloring.
	- My dear Victoria, the whole world is in front of us in this long winding road. But let us make a stop, drink a soda and eat a hot dog, then continue the journey and make another trip. My wild heart has got this hurry to be alive.
	- And when life come to violent us, we shall ask the gods to be stepped upon slowly. My heart is pained and still fragile, my heart is like a glass, like a soap opera kiss.
	- My dear, maybe you can understand my solitude, my dreams and my fury, and in this hurry to live, and my way of always letting aside certainty and risking all over again with my passion.
	- Walk the wrong path with me, baby, for the simple joy of being this way. Come live with me, come be in danger with me, come die with me.
	- Maybe I will die young, with some curve on the road. Or maybe a stab from a betrayed love will finish my fate. I care little now that I can tell this to you.
	And this love scene went onwards for quite a bit of time. Certainly Pasquim would already be in the outside of the library waiting. To hell with him. Let him wait a bit more.

	Before leaving for the outside, Victoria produced the letter she was writing.
	- Charles, come with me. We shall make two copies of this letter. The original we will send to my father. The copies we shall keep with us as fond remembrances of our thrown gauntlet.
	- Of course. But before we do that, let me read the letter. In the end, I have some words of my own to send your father.

	Pasquim finally saw Charles leaving. He did not see Victoria with him. All that he saw before Charles left the library was a certain brunette girl, tall, with a very beautiful tanned skin and a huge smile who left the library building just before Charles. He also could not help but notice how the gods graced the girl with fairly good measurements.
	As Charles walked towards Pasquim, with a certain smile in his face much like the one of the girl, he held in his hand two letters. Pasquim soon addressed her.
	- Well, Charles, which one of us shall speak first?!
	- Well, would you grant me this honor?
	- Certainly!
	- Well, then why don't you proofread this letter I will send to our good friend Cleston? Victoria and I want to share the words with you. It has even a small tribute there to a certain friend of ours.
	Pasquim unfolded the photocopied letter while Charles dropped upon a nearby mailing box the original one. As he read the letter, he saw a feminine handwriting followed by a male one, in a letter which both authors remained anonymous.

	"When I had not these tearful eyes, that today I carry and bring with me;
	When I sweetened my crying and my sleep with the remains of the sugar plant;
	When I earned my place in this world of our gods tracing my own path;
	While I walked between the yellow and red cultured farms and missed the greenish blue of the wild sea;"
	
	"I was happy as a river,
	An animal, a swarm of sparrows,
	As a rooster when there were
	When there were roosters, nights and lawns."

	"But in came the dark times and by force made;
	With me the damage that the force always does."

	"I am not happy, but I am not Mute.
	Today I sing a lot more."

	PS: And as Worder George already used to say, full of reason, "Better to have a daughter in your hands than two parents flying by."
	You don't like me. Your daughter does.

	Pasquim folded back that copied letter and handed it back to Charles. He was delighted with the words.
	- Indeed, Charles, Cleston will be impressed. And it was a real nice thing you remembered those words by Wonder George! Now It's my turn to tell the news.
	- Go ahead Pasquim.
	- Are you ready?
	- I guess I Am.
	- Good. Then pack your bags and max out your credit cards. We are going to Portugal!

	PART 3 - THE TRIP TO PARIS

	CHAPTER 8 - VOYAGE, VOYAGE

	Charles trembled as he stood by the front of his house. The last thing he and Pasquim were talking about was how they were going to have to go to Portugal to finally find out the evidence that the councilman had been having corrupt dealings with some European contacts. Now, upon arriving at his apartment, he knew he would have to face Alice once more. Just after he had a rather passionate encounter with a woman other than his wife he had to tell her that he was going to Europe. Without her.
	Charles already felt he would have much explanation to do about why he had to go there, and how he got the information about Portugal in the first place. Telling that it was from the woman he really cared about was not an option.
	Due to this quite problematic set-up, Charles asked if Pasquim would go with him to his house to talk to Alice. Maybe having visitors in the house he would avoid her making a scene. Hopefully.
	Charles opened the door. Pasquim was by his side. Time to face the wife.
	The first thing Alice said once the two visitors arrived was this:
	- Why, hello again Charles! Say, there was a person who called you. I believe his name was Jorge. He said it was important. I told him to call you on the cell phone but he preferred to just leave a message and his number. It's over there by the table.
	Charles shrugged and went over to the table. There it was, the phone number of Wonder George. Surely it was him calling. Charles then picked up the phone and dialed the number.
	- Hello? Who is this?
	- Is it you, Jorge? It's Charles here.
	- Oh! Charles! How are you doing?! Packing already?
	- Well, I just arrived home. I assume Pasquim already told you about everything?
	- Yes, he did call me while he awaited in the library. He told me about all the things that went on. So, let me ask you, is your passport in order?
	- Yes the... document is in order all right.
	Charles did not want to say yet the word "passport", or anything related to travel. Not now.
	- Good. Then all that there is to it is getting you and Pasquim some tickets. I do believe you happen to have a credit card that can be... maxed out?!
	- Well... uh... (sigh) yes, I do.
	- Well, the good news is that I have found out about a cheaper way for you to get there.
	- Going by... er... using the sea?!
	- Well, that would be cheaper, but also would take a lot longer than you could afford. No, you have to go by plane indeed.
	- Fine. And how is that cheaper plan you talked about?
	- Well, I managed to get a discount reserved to members of the press in a flight to Paris tomorrow. You can take the plane in the city of São Paulo and then get to Paris. From France to Portugal you need but a train ride.
	- Well, and I do believe that such... "arrangements" do not include any extras?
	- No, sorry. Hotels and such are on your own.
	- Fine, fine. So, what do I do? Where do I call? Where do I sign?
	- Well, just call me back later on and tell me the credit card number. Then get going to São Paulo and the city airport.
	- Wait a second! How can I trust that everything will go smoothly?! This is quite a big deal you are asking me to do, don't you think?!
	- It is a big deal, indeed. But you will be going to Portugal with an expert in the subject. Also, travelling with the man who knows the joke of Mr. John Dove is a guarantee of success in getting required evidence.
	- Joke of Mr. John Dove?
	As he pronounced loud these words, Pasquim's eyes flashed as he looked in the direction of Charles. He chose not to say a word about what it meant, though.
	- Yes. Ask later on the man himself about this. Now get packing. Until later.
	Charles hung up. Time to tell Alice what has been going on. Not an easy task.

	First thing Charles did was to ask Pasquim to go play with Aristophanes in the other room while he and Alice had a little chat.
	- Alice, my dear. I believe I will have to... go away for some more time to get this whole mess all wrapped up.
	- Really?! That is too bad! Are you going back to Londrina?
	- Well... no. Further on.
	- Where? São Paulo then?!
	- Yes. I will have to take a bus to get there 
	- And what will you do in São Paulo? Search for evidence there?
	- No, I know where the evidence I need is.
	- Really? And is it in São Paulo?
	- Well, no.
	- Then what are you going to do there?
	Charles hesitated before saying.
	- Catch a plane to go to Paris.
	And so Alice got stunned.
	- PARIS?! FRANCE?! EUROPE?! YOU ARE GOING TO EUROPE?!
	- Calm down! Yes, I have to go to Europe.
	- You are going to Europe?! How can you afford to go there at all?! How do you know the evidence you need is there and not in the councilman's desk?!
	- Because Pasquim talked to the councilman, and he said that he was dealing with a soccer club in Portugal where he got all the illegal money.
	- PORTUGAL?! You said you were going to France!!!
	- Well, yes, I will take the PLANE there. But the rest of the trip will be done by train. It's cheaper this way, you see.
	- CHEAPER?! Have you any idea how much a ticket to Europe costs?! Can we afford that much money in the first place?!
	- My dear, if I do not do this, then we shall lose a lot more than this amount with the lawsuit. Believe me, it is better this way!
	Alice was inconsolable. Both she and her husband argued a lot more about this matter.
	
	Meanwhile, in Aristophanes' room, the kid and Pasquim waited for a bit of time as husband and wife argued. The boy was a very curious one.
	- So, sir, what have you been doing in your city before coming here with dad?
	- Oh, I was a researcher there. I did scientific research about many things.
	- Really? Like what?
	- Well, for instance, I researched how certain... insects were attracted to certain different forms of... nutrients that were available in many of the places I... studied. It was the goal of my research sometimes to catalog which of these places had the smaller amount of insects so that people could go there without being bothered by them.
	- Really? And what did you recommend?
	- Well, the cleaner and less seedy the place, the less insects it will have!
	- Less seedy? What is that?
	- Oh... it is when a place has very few plant seeds in there. You know plants and their seeds? A place that has less of those I less seedy than a place which has a lot of them.
	- So I guess this room is not very seedy. It has no plants and no seeds at all!
	- Yes. This place is not seedy. But I had to work in several seedy places!
	- Really? And what kinds of plants did you find that had seeds?
	- Oh, quite a lot of the type that require water that birds dare not drink.
	- So there were very few birds in these places too? They could not drink the water?
	- No, they could not. We did not let them. We drank it all ourselves.
	- But if the birds could not drink it, then why could you?
	- Do I have any feathers on my body?! Am I a bird?!
	- No. Well, maybe that is why people do not fly?
	- Well, I may not fly, but I do enjoy getting a little high!
	- You like getting high?! How do you get high?
	- Well, normally I just use stilts.
	- So you like stilts?! How do you use stilts with a bad leg like yours?
	- Well, I just use a really big cane when I use them.
	By then the argument between Alice and Charles had ended and it was time for Aristophanes to also get to know that his daddy was going to travel. So Charles opened the door and entered the room where Pasquim and Aristophanes were.
	- Hey son. What has Pasquim been talking to you?
	- Hey dad, he was just telling me he likes to get high! I want to get high too!
	Charles was dazzled and gave an angry look at Pasquim. Was the drunkard already disrupting his son's education?!
	- Dad, could we get any stilts? I want to get high using stilts! Must be fun!
	- Oh! Stilts! I see. Well, son, maybe we can talk about stilts later, all right? Now I must talk with you about another trip dad must do.
	- Are you going back to Londrina?
	- No, son, it is not Londrina I will go.
	- Then anywhere near Londrina?
	- Well, the place I am going is closer to London than Londrina, son!

	Words were traded, tears rolled down, but in the end clearly Charles and Pasquim really had to go to Paris, then Portugal, to solve once and for all the big mess they got themselves into. Besides, leaving Maringá would be a good idea since probably a very angry shopkeeper would be on the lookout for a man looking like 150 bucks, and if he found such a man, no joke whatsoever could maybe solve the situation.
	Charles really did not care much about what Alice was thinking of his trip. In that day, he had finally tasted the lips of the woman he truly fancied, and discovered that she fancied him as well. If he were to make this trip to Europe with someone, he would much rather do it with Victoria than Alice. As for his son, he knew he would understand what was needed to do and would forgive his father for leaving so soon. That, of course, provided the mother did not poison his mind with ill thoughts of his father while he were away. And, of course, provided the kid did not get high. Without stilts.
	Charles set off to pack his things for the trip. He took his passport and filled a suitcase of medium size with all he needed to travel. He took most of his credit cards with him, hoping that they could be used fully for cash in the coming trip. And then he remembered about Pasquim Elias. He probably did not have his passport with him at the time. In fact, Charles did not really think Pasquim had one in the first place. At least not one that had not expired.
	- Pasquim, what about your passport?! How are you going to get to France and Portugal without one?!
	- Charles, I have all I need in my wallet and in my wits! Worry not!
	- Are you sure?! International security in Airports is very high since 2001!
	- Have I ever truly given you reason to worry when I said you should worry not?!
	- Uh... Kinda!
	- Well, Charles, worry not. I have all I need here with me already!
	- Your wits?
	- Exactly!
	Great, Charles felt great. He was going to Europe leaving behind an angry wife and child and also with very little money left in the bank. Oh, and his friend was also going to try to bypass airport security.
	With his gear ready, Charles called back Wonder George and told him his credit card number. With the cash arranged, Jorge told him to get on the next bus to São Paulo and get his tickets by the Air France booth in the airport. But Charles also had to ask Wonder George if Pasquim Elias was going to make it through the airport security in France. Wonder George just replied to him "Worry not".
	Preparations set, gear packed, wife maddened and bankruptcy in sight, Charles and Pasquim took a taxi to the bus terminal after a long goodbye with the little Aristophanes and a less long angry goodbye with the blond wife, whose husband was going to Paris without her.

	Night had already fallen a long time ago. The two travelers arrived in the bus terminal of Maringá ready to buy tickets to the next bus to São Paulo, largest city in Brazil. Charles bought a ticket for him and Pasquim in the next bus, which would travel all through the night and arrive by morning in São Paulo. Ironically, it would make a stop by Londrina before making it to its final destination.
	Before the two boarded the bus, Pasquim made a suggestion for Charles.
	- Want a beer?
	- Hm. Why not?
	Then he thought some more.
	- You know, Pasquim, better not. I do not want to become an alcoholic yet.
	- Suit yourself. I will buy myself one. Really not in the mood?
	- No. But then again, I guess there is something else I should do.
	Charles went to the nearest phone booth and called a certain person, the one he fancied, to say goodbye to her.
	Victoria was actually quite thrilled that Charles was going to Europe. She demanded upon his return a postcard at least. She would much prefer a kiss, but then again she did not know if such pleasantries would be available to her if her father ever discovered about the true author of the letter he probably was going to receive the next day.
	The people who boarded the bus were a formerly unhappy man and a formerly sober cripple. They went to the seats that the tickets they bought assigned them. Charles took the aisle seat, since he liked it best, and Pasquim accepted to take the window seat. He also liked the aisle seat more, but he felt he had already been nagging Charles for too long to take away from him this simple pleasure. Besides, if he chose to let go of the aisle seat in the bus, he probably would have a better argument to take the aisle seat when they boarded the plane.

	The bus went ahead, braving the road to Londrina before going to São Paulo. The two journalists inside knew they were about to have very hectic days ahead. They just sat in the bus and looked out the window as the passage rolled by. Fortunately, this bus was a comfortable one, unlike the ones they took to go to Maringá. Finally, Charles felt that it was time to ask Pasquim a question he longed for the answer for very long.
	- Pasquim, we are going to France, then Portugal. It will be a very long road ahead of us. I have never really done anything so crazy as to go to Europe with a drunkard. So, maybe you can tell me now, what happened for you to become a drunkard just like that?!
	Pasquim Elias took a long pause for thought. It was not the first time someone asked him this, and it was not going to be the last.
	- Charles... you have been through so much these last few days. And most of what you went through was my fault, really. I am so sorry for that. As a minimally generous thought, I should indeed tell you why I became a drunkard, after being so filthy rich. I will tell you then.
	And Pasquim took another pause for thought. He finally got ready to speak.
	- I will tell you why I became a drunkard...

	-...but not here! It is a long tale and not fit for this time and place!
	- Oh! Come on Pasquim! What is wrong with this bus!
	- It has many people inside of it. We will disturb their rest if we talk too loud. Also, my tale fits better for a pub than a bus to be told. And we shall have plenty of opportunities to talk about this subject in the coming long trip. So take it easy, alright? Let us rest here in this bus, sleep the night through, and tomorrow get ready to fly. We shall talk some more then.
	- Bah! Fine, fine!
	And so the two men soon got asleep in the bus. In the next day they would talk more. For now, they were both already pretty tired.
	But Charles did something wrong.

	Upon arriving in londrina, as the bus stops dictated, more passengers boarded the bus. Charles woke up from his sleep at the stop. He noticed he was back at the bus terminal of Londrina. A few days ago, when he was at this place before, he wanted to take a bus just like the one he was in now to go home. But a certain drunkard friend of his made him choose another means of transportation.
	And as he turned to look at his drunkard friend, Charles realized he had done something very wrong.
	He had asked Pasquim Elias why he became a drunkard.
	What have you done, Charles?! You have allowed a rush of sad memories go back to the mind of the man who wanted so badly to forget them!
	Certainly that was a bad thing to do, because he noticed Pasquim Elias was crying. Sobbing silently. He noticed then that he was slowly and softly singing a song of great sadness. He had probably been doing this for a long time, but Charles did not wake up with the low sound of the song. As the bus left Londrina after taking in more passengers and letting some go, Charles paid attention to the words Pasquim moaned.

	CHAPTER 9 - TEARS AND LAUGHS

	"Life is all made of this, of laugh and pain, an endless sea.
	Happy one day comes the laugh, and the crying wll follow as well."

	"The little toddler, as he is born, acknowledges the pain, starts to cry.
	However the laughter in his face, only much later does it bloom."

	"Smile, Cry, and so goes life passing by."
	Sing, Moan, agony comes with the pleasure.
	It's maybe a madman he who tells he considers himself happy.
	That lady luck throws herself at his arms.
	A Lie. A Lie.
	For soon he shall instead of sing, cry, cry."

	"I who, singing, am here today whilst the audience (HAHA) smiles.
	Who knows if instead of singing I feel like crying.
	(WAHAHAHAHAHA)
	In the circus you see in the arena,
	HEHEHE, laughs the clown, HAHAHAHA, losing himself.
	And at home the daughter minds herself,
	Maybe she would let herself die."

	"WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahaaa...."

	"Smile... Cry... and so goes life passing... by...
	Sing... Moan... agony comes with HAHAHA the pleasure!
	HAHAHA Clown who alughs non-stop HAHAHAHA
	you must not you may not cry WHAhahahaha
	For you are paid to laugh to find funny
	HEHEHeehehe... disgrace... disgrace...
	If in crying you find the weapon for peace...
	HAHAHA Smile! HAHAHAHA Sing!"

	A sad song indeed. The laughter made itself very loud if compared to the rest of the tone of the song, but they were nonetheless very sad things indeed. No laugh came without tears.

	The bus ride went on. The night passed by, and as Charles slept, Pasquim moaned some more sad songs. Charles left him as he was. No sense in not letting the old man suffer and be bothered whilst doing so. Mayhap once a new way of gaining some discount somewhere was discovered he would improve. For now, though, only the sad memories of the past were in his mind. Too bad Charles asked that question to Pasquim at that time. Maybe then he would have enjoyed the bus ride.
	São Paulo, at last. The bus came to stop in Brazil's largest city as the two men got off of it. Charles was not really that rested from sleeping in the bus, and Pasquim was much less after sleeping only a little bit wearing his fine clothes and moaning sad songs. At any rate, there they were, and from there they had to get to the airport. Luckily for them, the intermetropolitan bus terminal of São Paulo had a service to haul people directly to the airport. They bought two tickets and once again rode a bus to get to the airport.

	At the airport, they went directly to the booth of the French airlines. Over there, surely enough, they found two airplane tickets for them. Wonder Jorge really did find cheaper tickets, although this would just ease the pain of Charles' bank account by little. And they would face a flight of about fourteen hours to France sitting on coach, to boot.
	The airplane was scheduled to leave for Paris only in the afternoon, and it was still morning. They had roughly some five hours to wait in the airport. It was a big airport. Not the biggest one in the world, far from that, but at any rate the largest of Brazil. And that had a bit of importance.
	To start off nicely, the two decided to get the check-in ready already. They left with the airline their luggage, which was quite small really since wits take little suitcase space. The check-in for the flight taken care of. That took no more than fifteen minutes. Fout hours and forty five minutes to wait. What to do?!
	- So Pasquim, we have four hours and forty five minutes to wait for the airplane to take off. How shall we spend our time here in the airport?!
	Pasquim just looked to Charles and laughed.
	- Must I really say?
	- Are you suggesting what I think you suggest, Pasquim?
	- Yes, I am!
	- Fine. The pub it is then!
	Quite differently from a city with its six hundred thousand inhabitants, an airport does not tend to have seedy pubs. On the contrary, since the public that usually goes to airports is the public that also tends to have money to buy airplane tickets, then the pubs in airports tend to charge extra for you to get high before you fly. Then again, the beer, the whisky and the vodka are also quite top notch.

	It had been many days, maybe months, since Pasquim had entered such a fine looking place to drink. And to Charles the situation was no different. The walls of that waiting room converted in to a pub were fit for high executives who wanted a fine twelve-year-old whisky to moist their throats before their next business trip to Berlin. Or maybe the first taste of true Russian Vodka before embarking on the first plane to St. Petersburg. For the people heading off to Okinawa or Kyoto, a good sake to get in the mood. And for those who had just arrived in Brazil, the airport could easily be the place to get a first taste of the famous "caipirinha". And the pub owners did want the first impression of newcomers to be quite a good one, so they might drink even more "caipirinhas". To these two newcomers, the first impression they had was none too shabby.
	As they both took their seats by the bar, quite a fancy bar by the way, Pasquim winked at Charles. Charles did not really understand what the wink was about, but he chose to play along whatever game was about to take place.
	Pasquim called for the bartender, a young man with quite a bit of trained finesse who certainly cared about his looks, if not for the ladies then for the boss. Pasquim felt quite honored to be served by such a lad. Quite a difference from the old pub owners he usually met on his beloved seedy pubs. When the youngster got closer, Pasquim talked to him in an accent quite like one that Charles knew from other encounters.
	- Ahoy there, fine lad! I have just made my from Alverca, in Portugal, to this fine establishment. Pray, mayhap thou couldst show to my old weathered lusitan liver what is the fine taste of what our fellow speakers of the same delighting language who reside across the ocean can offer to visitors?
	- Surely enough, kind sir. Do you...
	The bartender actually almost said "thee", but contained himself from making fun of the crippled tourist's accent.
	- ... you crave for any liquor in particular, my lusitan peer?
	- Why! I have just been discussing this subject with this lad right over in the next seat! According to his tales, the lands of Brazil have been renowned for a certain mixed beverage they call the... what was the word again, my brother Charles?
	Charles thought about if he should or should not also fake a Portuguese accent, and chose not to.
	- My, my, I do believe I was talking about earlier of the "Caipirinha", if my mind has not failed me. Mayhap the words do strike your brain in remembrance?
	- Aye! Aye indeed! My my, quite a creative mind of thine people! To name a famous drink as the synonym for "little redneck"! Say, does it look red just like the "Bloody Mary"?
	- No, not really. It might look a bit green since we add lemon to it. But since the liquor used in crystal clear, so tends the drink to be.
	- Very well then! Bartender, only one more question separates our throats from the pleasantries of alcohol, and the question is not for you, but to my friend sitting right here. Charles, answer me this: shall this good man prepare one or two glasses of this exquisite beverage?!
	- My my, quite a difficult one it is, this decision! I shall trust the gods with my fate, and shall say that it will be two glasses he shall pour.
	The bartender went off and started mixing the ingredients of the drink. Some liquor, some sugar and some fruit, in this case lemon, formed the basis of the drink. In record time this novelty gallant bartender finished both of the drinks and handed them over to the lusitan cripple and his friend.
	The first few sips of the drink were poured upon the lips and throats of the visitors. Bliss, it best describes their sensation. For long Pasquim had not quite the pleasure of having a truly sophisticated drink. And Charles was just having the same thought added to the fact that he was going to get to know Europe in the next day. Quite a mood for a bit of celebration, even though the subject that would come next would be one not quite festive.
	Pasquim drank about half of his glass, and as he noticed it was definitely half empty, he called the bartender and started talking to him again using the accent he mastered.
	- Bartender! I have one wish that thou couldst maybe fulfill for this old crippled lusitan.
	- Mayhap. What is it, sir?
	- I would wish that thou tookest notice of whenever this glass passes on from half empty to fully empty. And in the case of such an event, took the means to revert the situation to turn the gals into a glass not at all empty.
	- As you wish, sir.
	- I do hope thou dost comprehend the graveness of this action. It will have quite a dire effect if the flow of alcohol is interrupted. Perhaps thou wouldst care to know the two reasons behind this graveness?!
	- Surely enough, sir.
	- Very well. The first reason is the fact that my brother Charles here is the one whose credit card will pay the tab. I must make good use of this fact.
	Charles sighed as he took another sip from his glass and reckoned it was true.
	- But, my good bartender, the second reason is even more dire than the first, for it is time that I finally told my pal in this other seat the very story of how I ended up becoming a drunkard!
	Fortunately for Charles, the glass he held was made of quite sturdy glass. Unfortunately for him, he held it in his hand as he heard Pasquim say those last words. Charles dropped the glass he held. It did not break, but it did spill out all of the liquor inside. This made the bartender get to work faster as he prepared another "caipirinha" for the man whose glass spilled.
	No use weeping over spilled liquor. The weeping for the sad tale of Pasquim Elias would leave no time for that.
	Without any further ado, Pasquim kept on his flawless Portuguese accent and began his narration...

	"...
	In the days of yore. when journalism was for me but a passion, I began studies that I knew would me into great national and international acclaim.
	I will not venture into the tales of the things I have made before and after my journalist career. For I was born an artist, and I was made a Journalist. Naught may deny this fact. Naught.
	My name kept growing, growing, until it reached the very peak of glory.
	It was not an easy road to arrive there. Nay, sire. Many things have happened in this meantime. I have countless tales to tell. The pranks in the journalism university, the many debates over trivial and not so trivial aspects of life, my battles to earn dear freedom, the many ways in which I could haggle both in fair and unfair ways for many goods, the techniques I have mastered to make sure teachers would give me high grades, the things that were true and untrue in my résumé, the jobs I applied myself into and succeeded or failed, and a whole lifetime of tales which could fill many tomes of history books.
	But true journalistic duty began for me after I met Jorge, a man who later would be known worldwide as "Wonder George". I would not call him that, were I the one who gave him the nickname. No. I would call him "Miracle Worker George". That would fit him much better.
	Jorge. That man and I made quite a pair in the years of the 1960's and 1970's. Yes, quite a pair. In those turbulent times, both the cold war and cold grip of militaristic thought made this country be bathed in true dark times of injustice. And the Paladins who got up to the task of fighting for righteousness were the journalists! Yes! The journalists! Me and Jorge, what a pair of partisans we were! Fighting side by side with inflamed speeches in underground newspapers! Every day could be our last, and every hour could be the best or worse in our lives. We were cursed, scolded, even hit hard by those who opposed our thoughts! But for every thorn that came in our path, a more colored rose blossomed in response for our efforts.
	Not just in Brazil we acted. In attempts to bring clarity to other people oppressed by the lack of options that force imposes upon the less fortunate, we have sent our message abroad in many languages so that the whole world could be with us for our united battle. Oh, what days were those, were the world yearned for days of peace and freedom! From Hong Kong, Kyoto, Leipzig, Marseilles, Des Moines, Cuzco and Londrina, from all over we spread our thoughts for a better world where more people could breathe easier without having nagging armaments put with its smoking barrels on their heads.
	The sixties and the seventies, those were the days for truly fighting for causes we held dear! It was in those passionate days that my truest of all passions came to my life. It bore the name "Diana", a beautiful woman made only more beautiful for the thoughts she embraced. She did not care about the needs of the capitalist mind. She did not care for the coziness of a warm home when other people were suffering from famine. She did not care that I wore black shoes with socks whilst I had in my waist a brown belt. No, she did not.
	We loved each other deeply. Both in mind as in body. When we did not search for means to deepen our cultural knowledge, we searched for ways for even deeper penetration as we tried new positions. Glorious times of bliss ensued, for nothing brings to a Paladin more joy than to serve the gods of righteousness whilst making passionate love with the woman you love both in both mind and body.
	But then, came the eighties. The eighties saw the power of the USSR fade and that of the USA fade too, in a certain way. It saw the decline of the frightening of the people, for heir traded fear for emptiness of living. No longer great causes required our care. No longer the imminence of the end of the world fell upon our heads. People started having the insane thought that they probably would live for the next day. I grew old and grumpy. I no longer had all the energy to fight oppression that I had whilst I had only eighteen years of age. Things did not look so novel anymore.
	Then Jorge went away from our partnership. He felt that it was time to try something new. We were no more in condition of fighting without resources in a world were the capital was starting to become stronger than the power of ideology. No longer we needed to fight undeclared oppression because each day more the world was being denounced of the cruelties people were committing. The world did not worsen from the days that it was but a nuclear bomb away from being destroyed, it did not get better either, in truth it was the press that had gotten better coverage of things.
	Better coverage of things. But what coverage was that? What coverage was that?! It was coverage that did not want to make the world become a better place to live! It became a way to make people gain more money! "Press" started, more than ever, to become a synonym for "Money"! What about the denounces of the truculent ways the military forced civilians to do things?! Did the world become less violent because violence was no longer physical but each day more spiritual instead?!
	I could not tolerate the new way things were for newspapers and news broadcasts everywhere, especially in Brazil. The new way to deal with things was not armed fight, it was self-help books and news! Self-help! Now the great enemy of the common man was not the people who wanted him to be obliterated and reduced to simple serfdom! Now the news tried to convince that the true enemy of mankind was the general feeling of a emptiness of existence, that this emptiness was what consumed the spirits of the populace and made them seek ways to hate their neighbors in order to feel happy again, to cling to concepts such as "family happiness" to find new ways of oppressing their children not to follow the paths they chose to trail and instead continue on the empty life that their parents lived. The middle classes of the world were specially vicious in this, wanting now not to raise a finger and become new paladins for a world that needed new heroes to improve itself. Instead, these people started to care only about becoming the next masters of the system that was in place, continuing the plague that people such as me and Jorge fought so hard to diminish!
	As I found out that what the people of the world were feeling was a terrible emptiness of existence, I started to take a look at myself and Diana. We did not seem to be feeling so empty. Why was that?! Was that because we were different?! Was that because we were full?!
	No! It was because we learned to cope with the emptiness! We have learned that life would start to be even more empty from now on, and that was a good thing! Only when the human being is totally released from all the things he holds dear and feels responsible about he may be able to trade these feelings to true pleasure. For something to be truly pleasurable must be in the first place not a responsibility, put a choice. It was time for people not to cling upon their material and immaterial conquests so they could maintain the things as they were being maintained. It was time for people to understand that life should be a place where people have joy because they choose to have joy, and be free because they choose to be free and fight to be free.
	It was the year 1985 when I founded "Elias' Press & Journalism Inc". The purpose of my company? To write and provide journalism with a new philosophy of life. No longer would people have to do as the gods bid them to. No. No longer would they have to bow upon the needs of the capitalist world. No. No longer would people have to feel guilt over the things other people told them they did wrong. No.
	My solution to these problems of life? To understand, first, that life IS empty and that life IS NOT sacred. Why would mankind feel better with such horrid words?! It is simple. Because if no longer humanity needed to be molded by abstract thoughts of how things should be and what kind of worries they should prioritize, then mankind would learn slowly the principles of freedom. Men and women alike would learn that they did not have to follow certain paths in life for the simple reason that they should do the things they were responsible to do. Instead of being given responsibilities by other, people should make themselves responsible for the things they themselves feel that should be important. The difference it would make in the lives of people would be tremendous. People would no longer have to fear the other people for their differences, people would be able to talk to each other about any subjects and be at least free together, and feeling well. They would be able to learn new ways of leading their lives, be they lives of abundance or poverty, abstinence of indulgence, happiness or self-inflicted sadness.
	In short, I wanted to make a company that would tell people that they should mold humanity the way they felt like it. For renowned anthropologists already defend that the human being is a cultural, not biological, being, and thusly can evolve itself in any way it feels like evolving. Better it would be to evolve to ways of freedom than oppression.
	"Elias' Press & Journalism Inc", "making life emptier and thusly better". My motto. Gave me many critics. Good. Gave me also many readers, the rebellious of the world who also felt that mankind should be free and unique.
	 Ten years elapsed. Ten years of good life. Not so much money, but quite enough to make the company a news world name. Me and Diana lived many happy years together writing things that at first made people very angry and sad and later made them very happy and free. Good days. Finally a sensation that we were again doing something to make the world better. Jorge, who made world fame himself in his own ways, also prospered. No wonder he became "Wonder George". But one day there was a chance for my company to truly become a grand name in international Journalism.
	It was the year of 1995. And that year the prize of the Paraná Press Trophy '95 was up for grabs for my company! I felt it was time to show to Paraná and the world what could be done by our company and our ideals. We wrote a mighty fine news topic about how the most unnatural statistics had the most unbelievable consequences around the world.
	My, what an article! In its lines, the very outline of many ways of life became clear as each person in the world found out that life was worth living and dying for. It had true journalism written in it as well as a good deal of poetry. I had the help of many people to write it. People from all the world, from Europe to Africa, aided me in the grand article. Surely enough it felt unique and worth of praise.
	Indeed, in the year of 1995 my company won the Paraná Press Trophy. Now, the doors to true success were open! From all over the world I received congratulations. From all over Paraná people and companies sought out our services. We could gather quite a lot of money for ourselves. It was then that I had the from wall of my main office painted with the sign that I always held so dear. And it became even more dear due to the dark times that went ahead.
	The year was 1996. The Paraná Press Trophy was once again up for grabs. Countless efforts were once again made to write a whole new article which should, if possible, make even greater furor than the year 1995 made.
	It was then that I did my worst mistake. I hired more people to work in my company than I should. Worse, I hired the wrong people.
	His name was Alexander Montus. He was one of my most professional workers. Smart and gallant, he did alone work that many workers together could not accomplish. When I hired him, I truly felt that it was the time to make the jump of the cat. Foolish me.
	Cursed be his name. Cursed be! Dost thou knowest what happened the day that the article I, I myself, created was exposed to the judges of the Paraná Press Trophy '96?!
	He STOLE the credits to the article for himself! Worse, he had created a company that existed only on paper, but that was just waiting for the Paraná Press Trophy '96 to be awarded to start truly operating, under his command! The scheme he plotted all along was to take away MY ARTICLE and give it to HIS COMPANY!
	After the incident, the worst happened. My dearest Diana, who I always thought loved me so deeply as I did, left away with that very bastard who stole my article and my trophy! She went away leaving me but a letter, and in the letter a goodbye.
	I felt devastated. No longer the many printings I wrote had any public, no longer anyone wanted our services. They all started caring only for the work of the company of that rotten bastard! And he started to write self-help too!
	Tormented by the way things folded themselves out, I could not bear anymore to live this life. I felt I should commit suicide and let mankind destroy itself without my guidance. And so I did just that.
	I did not shoot myself in the head. I killed myself in spirit. No longer the world would have Pasquim Elias, the journalist, walking the earth. From that year of 1997 onwards, I would be Pasquim Elias, the drunkard swindler.
	My health is gone. My life is ruined. I no longer do any good to society and society does me no good. I only make money by swindling people. I care no more.
	I chose that, for the rest of my existence in this earth, the only reminder of all the good I tried to make to society would be the wall of my former office, now all but a ruined shack. That wall would be my testament to the world. The words painted there would be my epitaph. I chose to defend those last words to my death, even if it meant losing my life doing so.
	The last person I allowed myself to keep normal contact was my friend Wonder George. If one day he asked me, either personally or with an avatar of his, to go back to the field and fight the good fight, I would rise to challenge.
	So it is, Charles and my good Bartender friend, that both of thee see me in this bar now, keeping the drunkardness and trying to bring back the last traces of the good I can still do to people.
	I do so not in happiness, but simply out of respect for Wonder George and the clause I inserted concerning him in the writing of the project I have committed myself into doing.
	..."

	Pasquim Elias finished his tale after drinking four full "caipirinhas", and when he finished he asked one last thing of his two listeners.
	- If now both of thee would not mind, I would ask myself to retire from thine presence. I will weep in the corner for a bit of time and soon be right back.
	And so Pasquim left to weep a bit in an empty table in the pub. And Charles asked for another "caipirinha". He needed it. The bartender himself was quite troubled and was very slow to make the drink. He had much to ponder.
	The flight would depart in two hours and a half after the incident of Pasquim's tale. They had to recover themselves to soon get to the boarding room. Recover from the many "caipirinhas" and from the sadness of the tale by Pasquim and his strange sense of a good yet empty life.
	Charles drew out his credit card and gave it to the barkeeper for him to pay the tab. As he did so, he asked to his customer:
	- Say, sir, I did actually think your friend was a lusitan man who never had set off in Brazil. Especially with the accent and that talk about not ever having had a "caipirinha". Was I wrong about it? And, by the way, how did he get to the table without his cane? He left it by the bar!
	Charles was puzzled about what to say, and as he started to talk...
	-... well, you see, he is not really lusitan. He is...
	...Pasquim stopped weeping and arose from the table back to the bar. Without his cane or any impairs by his crippled leg he closed on the barkeep again speaking with lusitan accent.
	- I AM LUSITAN, YES! What I meant by saying that I have never drunk a "caipirinha" was simply to say that I actually never drank one from these parts. I only drank them in Paraná. Mind thee, the people of Paraná have no tradition in the makings of a good "caipirinha".
	- I see. Well, sir, then you have been to Brazil before?
	- Yes, I have lived in these fair lands for quite a bit of time. Most of my years, actually. I feel that the good air of this land makes my leg forget it is crippled sometimes, both good times and sad times just like these that made me weep.
	Charles then intervened.
	- Very well, gentlemen. We must be going now. Our flight leaves in a few hours, and as it is well-known we should strive to arrive by the boarding gates with some time left before boarding.
	And so, with the salty tab paid, the two left the airport's pub. Luckily for Charles, who paid for the many "caipirinhas", the barkeep forgot to put some of the many drinks they had drunk and so the tab got smaller than it should be. Maybe Pasquim Elias chose only moments where he knew he could throw the barkeeper off his guard and attention to tell the tale of his life.
	At any rate, the tale of Pasquim left some doubts in the head of Charles. After they went to the boarding room, he asked him about them.
	- So, Pasquim that tale you told about your life was quite a large one. Was it all true?
	- Why would I lie?!
	- You have done so before. You even said to the bartender that you were a Portuguese man!
	- Charles! You have reminded me of something! For the duration of this trip, consider me a Lusitan! I will talk to you in Europe and to other people mostly using my Portuguese accent. Remember that!
	- Fine by me. But at any rate, was the story of your life true?
	- Yes, it was. I made much money after winning the Paraná Press Trophy '95. But after that damned Alexander took away my Paraná Press Trophy '96 and also my dear Diana, I chose to become a drunkard instead. Oh, and I forgot to tell that I castrated myself also.
	- You castrated yourself?! I thought it was an accident!
	- The things that made me castrate myself were an accident. The castration process was not.
	- My, my! But what do you have to say about that strange philosophy of life?! About admitting that life was empty and that was a good thing?! And the idea that life itself was not sacred?!
	Pasquim switched to his Portuguese accent.
	- Such statements maketh thee think about them?
	- Yes, they did.
	- And whilst thou wert thinking, didst thou actually give them the chance to make them prove themselves right? Didst thou for a moment allow thyself to believe that mayhap life was not sacred and life was an empty thing?! And that if such were the case, it could actually be a good thing?!
	- Well, for a moment they did, I must admit. For a moment I doubted many things.
	Pasquim switched back to his normal speech.
	- Good. Then my speech made you doubt. Made you question the way things are. It made you think. They fulfilled their purpose.
	Charles thought about it for a second. Pasquim was right.
	- I see. Is that what you wanted people to do, Pasquim?
	- Yes. I wanted people to question the way the world was. If they could gain the ability to question everything, life, death, and everything the other peoples and all gods say, then the world could be a better place to live.
	- I believe you are right. But did you really have to throw all you gained in the toilet and become a drunkard.
	- I chose to do so. I regret it not.
	- Not at all.
	- No. It was a choice I made. I was allowed to make a choice. I chose. After I made my choice, it is mine to bear. No one else has any saying in it.
	- Did you leave behind no family? Parents? Children?
	- My parents died of old age long ago. My family was Diana, some cousins and other distant relatives, and my company and employees. Diana chose to abandon me to live with Alexander, the man who stole all I cared for. When my company began to lose money to Alexander's, my distant relatives became even more distant since they only cared for my cash. My company and employees went to whenever capitalism drove them. To think about it, some of my employees were very loyal to me to the very end. I cherish them. I hope they are well today.
	- You are indeed a very interesting chap, Pasquim. And you have had a very interesting life. But a very strange one too, and with many strange options.
	- Strange options are good. They make you think.
	The airport personnel called for the boarding of the airplane. It was time to go to Paris. Pasquim Elias and Charles Losetti went to their seats trying to walk as straight as they could and hiding the breath of alcohol from the airplane personnel as they boarded the craft. It was a difficult undertaking, since a very nice and pretty lady insisted to help the crippled man to his seat.

	CHAPTER 10 - FEAR OF AIRPLANE

	Seat belts on. Engines running. Last preparations going on. Pasquim and Charles were seated next to each other around the middle of the craft. Pasquim asked for the aisle seat. Charles sat on the center seat, between Pasquim and an young blond man with a pin in his shirt with the flag of Germany printed on it. Both Pasquim and Charles assumed he was German.
	- Hey, Charles, there is one of the air hostesses coming in with newspapers. Get one and I will get another.
	- Alright. Is it for reading?
	- Of course not!
	- Why did I ask?!
	The hostess came and gave each of them a newspaper. The German chap did not get one, but Pasquim actually insisted, nicely, that if the chap did not want a newspaper he would love to take his. She did understand Portuguese, so the communication between the two was quite flawless.
	Newspapers in hand, Pasquim pretended to read his for a while. Soon afterwards he took the little plastic bag that had earphones and other goodies and stuffed it in his newspaper, folding it afterwards and keeping the goodies inside of it. He then instructed Charles to do the same. He did it only after he saw the German fellow looking away, and even so he had a quite embarrassed look on his face.
	Pasquim then pressed the button to call the hostess again. Another lady came to his aid. He politely asked the woman, this time in French:
	- Excuse moi, Mademoiselle. Me and my friend have not received ear phones in our seats. Could you get two for us?
	The lady nodded and soon enough came back with two ear phones for the two passengers, which also included the other goodies that were packed with them. As she went away, Charles got quite puzzled.
	- So Pasquim, care to tell me why did you do that?!
	- Surely. You see, by the end of the flight, the personnel will ask for us to return to them the earphones we used in the trip. We can deliver to them these earphones we received and smuggle out of the plane the earphones we already have.
	Talking in a low tone to avoid alerting the German guy, Charles replied:
	- So we are smuggling earphones now?!
	- Well, having extra earphones, as well as some other goodies sounds quite nice. Don't you think so too?
	- But what if we get caught leaving the plane with earphones of the company?!
	- Well, I never got caught before. Who knows?! Maybe it will be fun?!
	- I beg to differ! But I have seen you do worse. Then tell me something else. I saw you speaking with that girl in French. You speak French?!
	- Oui, monsieur.
	- How did you learn French?!
	- It's a bit of a long story, but I will tell it to you. Not right now, though. The plane is taking off, and I enjoy the time of the take off.

	The plane took off, and Pasquim enjoyed the feeling of movement the action proportionated. It felt good to get high without alcohol, although he had quite a bit of it running in his circulatory system. After the proceedings of the take off were done and those signs stating that all the passengers should stay seated with their seat belts on, he started telling Charles his tale about how he learned French.
	- Very well, Charles, let me tell you how I learned French. You see, I went to France and got to know Paris. I sang a Samba, and they asked me "BIS"! Soon after the Samba was finished, a pretty French lady came by my side, and started telling me all she felt, but I did not comprehend for I did not know French. She then got disappointed and my illusion that night got dispelled. I had the remembrance to buy a dictionary to not look like a fool and defend myself, for the French lady was truly pretty, I had the need to understand. In the next day when I met her, a "bon soir" I soon spoke to her, and after that she replied "comme sa va mon amour, comme sa va"! And then I told her all that I learned, including "trés bien, mon amour, trés jolie"! And the French girl, full of bliss, spoke to me about marriage and insisted a lot. But I who have my love in Rio de Janeiro said to her "Jamais, mademoiselle, Jamais! Que pouve faire, n'ai pas de argent, n'ai pais d'amour, and whatnot; I will be back to Brazil, hehehe!".
	- My, you sing Samba songs also?
	- Surely. Especially to French ladies.

	Time went by. Food and orange juice came in for the passengers. Television shows started to be displayed in the Airplane TV. Pasquim and Charles listened to them using the extra earphones they got from the airplane personnel with the intent of smuggling their stuff.
	At some point in the flight, some turbulence started to take effect on the airplane. Some rough turbulence, actually. Pasquim noticed Charles was a bit uneasy.
	- Scared of the airplane, Charles?
	- A bit maybe!
	Pasquim Elias held Charles' hand. He held it hard. He held it with fervor even. Then he laughed.
	- It was with fear of airplane that I first held Diana's hand. Took a sip of cognac after that touch on her clothing. Quite an adolescent thing, quite "James Dean"! It was a common emotion like those that spikes up the skin and guides the hands to different spots, running through the silks and the eyelashes, through nice hairs, virgin hairs who never saw razors or combs. Her large lips and teeth were glowing. So it was with fear of airplane the first time I held Diana's hand. I no longer get nervous and I no longer scream, and the sexy stewardess get even prettier. It was not the brute force of beauty, nor the cruel vigor of young lust. It was two animals in peace with nature, it was two sensual bodies against the law of gravity. And we did not think about the happiness. It was with fear of airplane that I first held Diana's hand, and now it got easy, everyone understands that Beatles' song "I wanna Hold Your Hand".
	Charles got a bit scared of this entire explanation. Far too weird and sexually related for his liking. Even more troubling than the turbulence.
	Pasquim did notice that.
	- It was with fear of airplane that I first held Diana's hand. And Charles, it was due to fear of airplane that I first held YOUR hand. Now I hope that you no longer fear the airplane. And, by the way, wipe away that scared face from your face. I am castrated.

	Time went on. The two men slept a bit sometimes, sometimes watched some of the airplane "TV", sometimes listened to music, sometimes talked about several subjects, and absolutely ways accepted any drinks that the stewardesses offered them, which were, much to their dismay only a few.
	Eventually the airplane started to get near the airport of Paris, the famous "Charles de Gaulle". The stewards of the plane started to hand out to all passengers a certain card present in pretty much all international flights, a card where the passenger should write down some of his personal information, his passport number, his intentions in the country, and other such things.
	A pen for the actual writing was needed, of course, and neither Pasquim nor Charles had one. When they saw that the German fellow actually did seem to have one, Pasquim very politely asked him in French. The German guy gave them the pen after replying in a very good French accent. This made many thoughts fly on the minds of the two men, even more so because theoretically they were flying as well since they were in the plane. The simple event did render a conversation between Charles and Pasquim in which they both agreed that the fellow with such a fine French accent maybe was not German. After seeing that Charles was curious enough but not quite brave to ask, Pasquim politely decided to ask the fellow if he was German, since he was wearing that pin. He answered the question without feeling the least embarrassed or in that matter embarrassing anyone. As it turned out, the fellow was actually a Canadian man from Montreal who really, really like Germany. He was actually going to France because the ticket for a flight between Brazil and France was, just like it happened with Portugal, a cheaper ticket  than from Brazil to Germany. From Paris the fellow would just take a train to Hamburg and spend some more quality time in the country he liked. In a last commentary, Charles and Pasquim agreed that if the fellow spoke French as his first language and also was a lover of Germany, quite probably that would mean he was not French but Canadian. Maybe even Algerian.
	Whilst using the pen that the Canadian fellow who many thought was German lent him with so much grace, Charles remembered that Pasquim did not seem to be with the passport he needed to enter Paris. He simply said that he was going to enter Paris anyway, but the card really made Charles worry once more.
	- Pasquim! This card! How will you fill it out, and how will you get into France?!
	- I already told you before! I will use the things I have packed with me!
	- But Pasquim! Will wits alone win your right to enter France?! You cannot be serious! Airport security is very tight!
	- I know about that. Worry not. And remember to take with you the newspaper you have there. The goodies inside sure will be nice to have.
	- How can you think about goodies in a time like this!
	- Hmm... just thinking. It's quite easy to do, actually.
	- Damn it, Pasquim! Let me see what you are writing in this card!
	- No.
	- Come on!
	- No!
	- By the powers! Will you not tell how you will get inside France?!
	- No.
	- Fine! Then at least tell me what I should write in my card to deliver to the French customs.
	- Write that you are going to France because you bought a cheap airplane ticket to get there and that what you really want is to go to Portugal. And write down all your personal information correctly. You do not need to hide anything.
	- Fine. What will you change and write differently than it really is in your card?!
	- Nothing.
	- What do you mean, nothing?!
	- Nothing means nothing.
	- Then how will you get through the French customs?!
	- You will see.

	Charles was full of nervousism when the plane landed. He did not want to speak, he just wanted to get quickly past customs. He just wanted Pasquim to do what he wanted to do and be over with it. After the plane landed and everyone left it, soon enough it was time to get past customs. Pasquim wanted Charles to carry around his folded newspaper as if it was just a newspaper he was reading casually, not one of those newspapers that hide smuggled goodies in its foldings. Although the biggest problem they would probably have if anyone in the French Airlines found out that two of their passengers were taking out of the plane two sets of ear phones they were not really supposed to take out with them was probably just a matter of having to pay for those phones taken, Charles absolutely refused to take with him his folded newspaper. He was too frightened that customs could nail him for that. In such a situation, Pasquim just decided that he would carry both folded newspapers and pretend that he was an artist who would start doing a lot of paper Mache.
	The lines for customs were set, and the people who left the airplane were walking towards the booths where the police of France looked at everyone's passports and saw who could enter the country and who could not. Charles held his card in sweating hands, as well as his perfectly legal and validated passport. Pasquim Elias held in his hands two newspapers that were folded in a way that they concealed two sets of earphones and other goodies that most passengers leave on the airplane.
	To try to distract himself a little from all the nervousism he was feeling, Charles tried to focus on something else. He looked a bit at what the Canadian fellow who he thought was German was doing. As it turned out, he was carrying a newspaper with him. Charles did get very curious as to what could be hidden inside the foldings of that media vehicle. But then he remembered that the Canadian guy who he thought was German did not actually take a newspaper with him when one was offered to him. That newspaper there really puzzled Charles. And Charles should have already learned that whenever he seemed puzzled, Pasquim would know that and try to solve whatever enigma was in his friend's mind. Pasquim noticed the Canadian fellow who had a German pin holding a newspaper and approached him to ask about it in French. Then the conundrum was solved as he explained it. As it turned out, the Canadian man who many thought was German also wanted to have with him a ear phone. He was delighted to see the plan Pasquim devised. Unfortunately for him, though, he did not ask for a second pair of ear phones and goodies before the take off, and he did remember that all stewards saw him using his own ear phones. Logically, then, any of his claims for a second pair of ear phones on the grounds that he did not have one in the first place would be considered null and void. So he could not get extra earphones, and he had to give to the steward the ones he used in the flight, as was proper procedure. All he could get was a newspaper to conceal the non-existent smuggled ear phone, which made the newspaper that could conceal illegally obtained goods really just a newspaper. Pasquim felt very touched by the tale of the chap who everyone thought was German but in truth was Canadian, and so decided to let him have one of the two ear phones he was carrying with him, together with its deceptive folded newspaper.
	The line for customs was long, but it line kept on going. Soon enough it was the turn for Charles and Pasquim to go. Charles would be terribly pale and white with fright if only it were not the fact that he was black. Pasquim looked like his normal self, only crippled and still walking with his cane. Charles was the first in the line, Pasquim the second. Then two booths were opened and the two next passengers were to go one to each.
	Charles reached the booth trembling. There he met one of the fine officers of the French Police who asked to see his passport. He handed it over. As the policeman was seeing if the passport was in order, he looked at Pasquim and his booth. All that he saw was Pasquim holding something in his hand showing it to the policeman who attended him, because soon enough Charles had to look at the police officer and talk to him about his intentions in France. Seeing no harm in the explanation and feeling that it was better for him to do what a normal lawful citizen would do, he explained to the policeman that he was passing through France to then take a train to Portugal where he would do some "tourism", the word he used for lack of a better one. He really felt that saying "tourism" was better than "searching for evidence that will show that a Brazilian politician is corrupt".
	Seeing that everything was in order, the customs officer allowed Charles to enter France.
	When he got to the other side of those booths, his jaw dropped. He saw Pasquim Elias, and he was...


	Pasquim Elias was already in the other side! Even before Charles!
	Charles was astonished. How did Pasquim get by customs?!
	- Pasquim! How did you get by customs?!
	- How?! Well, like all other people. Showing my documentation to the customs officer.
	- But how?! You did not have a passport with you!
	- Well, yes, I did not.
	- Then how did you get past customs?!
	Then Charles remembered that Pasquim Showed the customs officer something before passing.
	- Wait! What was the thing you showed to the officer before passing through?!
	- The thing? Oh, it was this.
	Pasquim handed over to Charles a card.
	It was an ID card. With his name in it. And a symbol of Portugal.
	
	A Portuguese ID Card with the name "Pasquim Elias" printed in it. It was that thing that Pasquim Elias showed to the French customs officer.
	- PASQUIM! YOU ARE... YOU ARE PORTUGUESE?!?!?!?!?
	- Not entirely, but just enough. I have two nationalities. I was born in Brazil and had a Brazilian mother, but my Father was Portuguese. This allowed me to apply for a Portuguese citizenship. Thusly, I am Brazilian as well as Portuguese.
	- And being Portuguese you can enter with little hassle in pretty much any country in the European Union!
	- Exactly.
	Charles thought some more.
	- So, that would explain how you have come to develop such a fine Portuguese accent when you tell Portuguese jokes!
	- More than that Charles. You see, Portuguese jokes can sometimes be considered quite offensive, especially when told near Portuguese people. However, being a Portuguese man myself, I have Portuguese joke immunity. Therefore, I have used this boon that was granted to me fully, and so I ended up becoming an expert in jokes about the Portuguese.
	- So this explains why Wonder George said that the best way to find you was by going into pubs and telling Portuguese jokes!
	- Yes, he knew I would show great interest in that. But let us not tarry long here. We have a train to catch! We cannot sightsee in Paris for long!
	Pasquim pointed to the exit. They should get going to the nearest train station that could take them to Portugal.

	After asking in an information booth how to get to the nearest international train station, Pasquim and Charles decided to take a bus to the place. It was not a hard thing to do. In the way to the station, Pasquim mentioned to Charles what they had to do next.
	- Charles, we are in Europe. Here we shall find the evidence that will put Cleston behind bars. Here we shall find the evidence that will make your name clean again. Here we shall find the evidence that will help compensate whatever damage is being made as we speak to my beloved wall.
	- How is that, Pasquim?!
	- Because, if we succeed, I shall have the deed to that place on Israel street.
	- So?!
	- SO?! What does that place have, Charles?!
	- Well, it has bad neighbors, a house that needs lots of repairs, and nothing else but a...
	Charles finally got the point of why Pasquim told him to "worry not" about his beloved wall.
	- ...a wall that really could do with some paint. Maybe even with some sign written on it.
	- Exactly.

	The train station loomed in the distance. Both men left the bus and entered the trains station. Inside, they started looking for a train to catch that could take them to Portugal.
	- Charles, we must hurry! We must take the first train we can find! If we are fast enough, we might just make it in time to find a certain man that would truly help us in our endeavor.
	- Who is this man, Pasquim?
	Pasquim Elias took a moment before answering. It was a name that meant much to him. A name of an old friend he did see for a long time. Someone who could be unpredictable when together with Pasquim Elias.
	- This man, Charles... his name...
	... his name is Amílcar Cipriota. But nowadays he also answers as "Hamilcar from Cyprus"...

	Pasquim's mind seemed to grow distant as he spoke the name, but Charles quickly brought him back to real time.
	- Pasquim! What train do we get?! You speak French, I do not! I think you will have to see what train we should go in.
	- Hey, you are right. There is an information booth over there. Let us ask the clerk about what train we can get to Lisbon.
	Pasquim went over to the booth with slow steps. He was a cripple, after all. Upon arriving, without beating around the bush too much, he simply asked the man there what train they could get to head to Lisbon. According to the clerk, there was one that was about to leave in about forty five minutes. It would make few stops along the way, so it was pretty much the fastest one they could arrnage to get.
	Going over to the ticket desk and asking for two tickets to this train was actually not a hard thing. The clerk simply handed over two such tickets to the lusitan man who had such a good notion of how to speak French. The hard part was paying for the tickets. Once again Charles' credit card was required for the task, another task he really did not enjoy much. Nevertheless, after much sighing over another big credit card bill he was going to have to pay, in Euro, Pasquim and Charles had with them each a ticket that would give them a ride through France, Spain and then Portugal until they reached Lisbon.
	Waiting for the forty-five minutes to elapse was not really very hard. Charles only regretted the fact that he was not going to be able to enjoy anything that Paris could offer due to his rush to get once and for all the evidence he needed to put Cleston behind bars. When the train arrived, the two men went to their cabins and there took their places in what was going to be a quite amusing train ride.

	PART 4 - LAND OF THE LUSITANS

	CHAPTER 11 - AS YET UNTITLED

	Cabins. Comfortable ones. Really. Good places to be seated and rest for a bit. But also a bit cramped, if you come to think of it.