The Story of My Teeth (12 page)

Borges is my idol. Have you read him? asked young Voragine with childlike enthusiasm.

Not as much as I will in the future, I replied.

I think you and I are going to rub along well, Mr. Highway. And I’d be happy to write your biography.

It is my autobiography, you stubborn matchstick, because it is my story, and I will tell it, you’ll just transcribe.

As you wish, sir. I’d be happy to write your dental autobiography.

That’s more like it.

We spent the rest of the morning ordering Nescafés, exchanging stories, and fine-tuning the details of our arrangement. Around noon, the summer sun began to warm the concrete floor of the café. The Nescafés had us as perky as a couple of protococaine addicts, and the Chinese fortune cookies were all gone.

Let’s go, Voragine, I said, leaving a twenty on the table, Benito Juarez face up. I’ve got my new bicycle here outside. A friend just gave it to me.

My bicycle’s outside too, he said.

Perfect. We can pick up your things, and I’ll take you to Disneylandia.

I’m in.

Great. Say no more. Shall we go?

Right now?

This very instant.

End of conversation.

TACITO’S FORTUNE COOKIES:

     
The man atop the mountain does not fall.

     
The motionless dragon in deep waters becomes the prey of the crabs.

     
Fortune never comes with a parallel, and misfortune never comes alone.

     
When two brothers work together, the mountains turn to gold.

     
Not hearing is not as good as hearing, hearing is not as good as seeing, seeing is not as good as mentally knowing, mentally knowing is not as good as acting; true learning continues up to the point of action.

     
When the wind changes, some people build walls, others windmills.

     
The tongue resists because it is soft; the teeth yield because they are hard.

     
Put your words in the mouth of the stomach.