Pepe Propina had no money. The Ojo had not bought the story he wrote about killing the Vampire of Ixtlahuacan. He knew nothing about Vampires, so he had gone to his Bisabuela for help.
“Pepe, you are my great grandson. I will help you. I know a great story about a Vampire. Just change the names and the places to make it more Mexican.”
“But that is not honest.”
“Pepe, many writers take other author’s stories, make changes and sell them.”
The day after he had submitted the story, the Editor had called him. Lying in bed, trying to decide what to do, he recalled the conversation, word for word.
“Pepe, I cannot believe that the Vampire of Ixtlahuacan is named “Carlos Dracula of Chihuahua.”
Pepe thought fast. “That is what he told me,” he stammered. “Maybe he is a great grandson of the original Count Dracula.”
“If a relative of a famous Vampire did come to Mexico, he would go to a big city, not a small town.”
“Tell me the truth. You never killed the Vampire.”
“But the four Juans were with me. They saw me do it. Ask them.”
The editor laughed. “They are like politicians,” the Editor snorted. “Every day they think of new ways to make money.”
Pepe leaped out of bed. The editor’s words were the solution. He would become a politician.
He hurried to the Casa de Ancianos to see his bisabuela.
“Great Grandma, you must help me become a politician.”
“To become a politician you must make a party and build a platform.
“But I have no money. A party is expensive. I will need food and tequila and even a mariachi band. For a platform I will need wood and a carpenter. I have no money for such things.”
“Caramba,” his Great Grandmother exploded. “It is not that kind of party. You must get people to support your platform.”
“Oh, then I will not have to build it with expensive wood. Maybe I can use a big cardboard box. People can get inside it and support me when I stand on it.”
His Great Grandmother rolled her eyes, “Pepe, a platform is just made up of words. You make promises to do things after you are elected. I did it by promising to tell fortunes free for three months for every one who voted for me.”
“But what can I promise?”
“It does not matter. Politicians do not keep their promises. But you must have a slogan that you can write on walls.”
They sat in silence. His bisabuela shut her eyes. Pepe thought she was sleeping. Suddenly she sat up straight.
“Propina for Propinas,” she shouted. “Now only waiters and waitresses get tips. You will propose a new law that will say that a 3% propina must be given for all services. Bank tellers, clerks in government offices, cashiers in stores, kids who bag purchases, garbage men, those pumping gasoline, car washers and others. All those who serve us every day will like the idea. You will attract thousands of voters.”
“But how do I make money?”
His bisabuela laughed, “When you announce your slogan, people whom you do not include on the list to receive the propinas will come to you. They will offer some pesos to be included. Others will offer you funds if you promise to drop the program. Even if you are not elected, you can keep running for office. Politicians do it all the time and people will keep on giving you money.”
The next day Pepe and the four Juans started spray painting “PROPINA FOR PROPINAS” all over town. By the end of the day, they had collected $500 pesos. I gave him $20 myself and asked him to make “Gringos” exempt from paying these propinas He said he would if ex-pats supported him. I am now accepting donations for him. Call me.
