Exemplifying the best in narrative art, Robert Coover's brilliant collection PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS tells good s
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English Pages 256 [260] Year 1969
Table of contents :
THE DOOR: A Prologue of Sorts 13
THE MAGIC POKER 20
MORRIS IN CHAINS 46
THE GINGERBREAD HOUSE 61
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS 76
Dedicatoria y Prologo a don Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra 76
1 Panel Game 79
2 The Marker 88
3 The Brother 92
4 In a Train Station 98
5 Klee Dead 104
6 J's Marriage 112
7 The Wayfarer 120
THE ELEVATOR 125
ROMANCE OF THE THIN MAN AND THE FAT LADY 138
QUENBY AND OLA, SWEDE AND CARL 150
THE SENTIENT LENS 168
1 Scene for "Winter" 168
2 The Milkmaid of Samaniego 174
3 The Leper's Helix 179
A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT 183
THE BABYSITTER 206
THE HAT ACT 240
I
SHORT STORIES BY
COOVER ACHIEVES HIGHEST EXCELLENCE
IN
A
SCINTILLANT VARIETY OF SHORT FICTIONAL FORMS."
—Saturday Review
filCMGS & DOTS
D.
PLUME CONTEMPORARY FICTION
©
ROBERT COOVER has been acclaimed by writers and
critics as
American
one of the strongest and most original voices
fiction.
His
first
novel,
in
the origin of the
brunists, was the winner of the 1966 William Faulkner
Award
for the best
first
highly praised novel, inc., j.
the universal baseball association,
henry waugh,
His other
and
novel of that year. In 1968 he wrote the
titles
include
prop, (available in a Plume edition).
The Water
A Theological Position.
Fourer,
The Public Burning
PRICKSONGS X^P DESCANTS FiCTiOKS
'S
r
Robert Coover
©
A PLUME BOOK
NEW AlViemCAIM LIBRARY NEW YORK AND SCARBOROUGH, ONTARIO
Copyright All rights reserved.
No
©
1969, by Robert Coovcr
part of this publication
may be reproduced
or transmitted
any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper or broadcast. For information address E. P. Dutton, Inc., a division of NAL PENGUIN INC., 2 Park Avenue, New York, New York 10016. in
of the stories in this volume originally appeared in the new American REVIEW, the QUARTERLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, EVERGREEN REVIEW, PLAYBOY, ESQUIRE, CAVALIER, and OLYMPIA.
Some
an authorized reprint of a hardcover edition published by E. P. Dutton, & The hardcover edition was published simultaneously in Canada by Clarke, Irwin & Company Limited, Toronto and Vancouver.
This
is
Co., Inc.
© PAT OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES REGISTERED TRADEMARK MARCA REGISTRADA HECHO EN WESTFORD, MASS U S.A
PLUME TRADEMARK REG.
U.S.
—
.
Signet, Signet Classic,
Mentor, Onyx, Plume, Meridian and NAL Books
are published in the United States
NAL PENGUIN 1633 Broadway, in
by
INC.,
New York, New York
10019,
Canada by The New American Library of Canada Limited, 81 Mack Avenue, Scarborough, Ontario MIL 1M8. First Printing,
September, 1970
10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
For You,
QBSP
He thrusts, she
—
heaves,
JOHN CLELAND, FANNY HILL
They
therefore set
me
this
problem of the equality of appearance
and numbers.
—PAUL VALERY, "VARIATIONS ON THE ECLOGUES"
CONTENTS THE DOOR: A Prologue of Sorts THE MAGIC POKER
20
MORRIS IN CHAINS
46
THE GINGERBREAD HOUSE
13
61
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
76
Dedicatoria y Prologo a don Miguel
de Cervantes Saavedra
Game
79
2 The Marker
88
/
Panel
76
CONTENTS 3
The Brother
92
4 In a Train Station
5 Klee Dead
104
Marriage
112
6
y
/*i
The Wayfarer
THE ELEVATOR
98
120
125
ROMANCE OF THE THIN MAN AND THE FAT LADY QUENBY AND OLA, SWEDE AND CARL
THE SENTIENT LENS
168
/
Scene for "Winter"
168
2
The Milkmaid
3
The Leper's Helix
of
Samaniego 179
A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT
THE BABYSITTER THE HAT ACT
240
206
183
174
150
138
PRICKSONGS
&
DESCANTS
THE DOOR: A
Prologue
of Sorts This was the hard truth: to be Jack become the Giant, his
mansions routed by the child he was. Yes, he'd climbed his
own
green stalk to the clouds and tipped old
over, only to learn,
the
Ola Man,
now much
later, that that
own and
Humpty
was probably the way
wisdom, had wanted it.
in his
He swung, chanting to himself to dropped those
spilled his beans
keep his stroke steady, and he
trees, but he was all too aware of what he what was happening up there, or about to, and how the Ogre in him wouldn't drop away and leave her free. And, look, he was picking on the young trees today, too, he caught him-
was
tall
hard
really doing, of
self at that,
my
God.
Was
it
envy, was that
all it
was ? Feeling
sorry,
13
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
14
old
man,
that
and
that joy
all
terror
is
over for you, never to
rise
again ? Hell, now. But, no,
own
wasn't jealousy, she was his
it
blood, after
all.
And
just a child.
He
swung, a sinew snapped, the
with a great wheeze and crash.
He
tree leaned, crackled, toppled
decided to chop
it
up
into foot-
length logs.
And,
listen,
that matter,
wanted her
Those
if
he wished her the not
to love life
much. But he
He
saw the
removed
tree
had held a
so he
a
it,
was
it?
it.
and watch her wonder with a
about the terror.
nest. Its pale speckled
He
he'd
it,
good part of
eggs lay
unbroken egg.
stared at the
wiped the sweat from the back of
what could he do about
And
much
broken but one.
his hat,
told her about
beanstem had taught him that
his
liked to hear her laugh
smile, and, well, he hadn't said
scattered, all
had
and that was part of
up and down
frantic trips
He
the world.
all
he did, both of them for
joy, yes,
He But
his neck.
Nothing.
afraid.
For
her.
For himself. Because he'd given
her her view of the world, in fragments of course, not really thinking
it all
out, she listening,
his love, his
smelled the blood,
telling,
all right,
and because of her
love, he'd left
but he'd called
it
and
gaiety
out the terror. He'd
essence.
And when
she
found herself alone and besieged: what then? He'd
encountered
it,
be part of
that's
it,
he
cowardly lonely
what, feared and hated.
And
he'd thought the old
Giant had lived in heaven, the poor bastard!
He swung
furiously at the felled tree, his
from the shock of the blows, enraged People-agony. Love.
There was
Hanging on.
his old
at life that
they
all
plicable
it
should so
resist.
A goddamn mess.
mother up
there, suffering continuance, pre-
ferring rot to obliteration, possessed like
mindless and intransigent.
whole body vibrating
Did he
them
all
by a
mad
resent her? yes, he did.
will,
There
went, birthing hopelessly sentient creatures into the inexemptiness,
giving carelessly of their
strength, then sinking
away
bellies,
into addled uselessness,
teats,
humming
and the
THE DOOR: A PROLOGUE OF SORTS old songs, the old
lies,
and smiling
he leaned into the
tree
with
And
bering the world's dead and
out of
and
it.
with
live
But, no, he thought,
and
paused in his chopping. Yes, a knock, he'd heard
He
rise again,
:
But
fill
it.
He remembered
wait. Sooner or later,
must happen, mustn't
it
it?
know
that there
were no monsters, no wolves or witches, but
it,
crotch,
everything,
me
he'd
And
now, made him grab up
and return
so-called
know
there were, there were.
right
made him laugh
so bless
the old
the belly full of stones.
later, she'd
him
Perhaps
leaned his axe against the felled
turned anxiously toward the cottage.
formula
damn
the
the kings were gone.
all
today then. Perhaps very soon.
of
all
remem-
forgotten itches, you can't get
all their
that easy, old buddy, only kings could sleep
it
He tree,
from death,
die to save her
he could but free her from
if
God!
toothless enfuriating smiles.
strength.
worse: that she could fear, his daughter, that she could
He'd willingly
hate.
terror
all his
15
.
to his labors, .
lied.
in fact
Sooner or
He'd pretended
to her
god-
yes,
one of them got ahold
his axe, dig ceremonially at his
and with a weird perverse
insistence,
.
I'm ruminatin on the old times
when
virtue
was
its
own
reward and acquired a well-bejeweled stud in the bargain
propped up there in the
stale
blood and beauty like
say propped
old four-poster which
I
limp sheets once the scene of so
up and dyin away
much
there in
on gamier days might seem a handsome
my
well-
lathed challenge to an old doxy but which this bad day threatens to
throw up walls between the posts and box
wondeVin where's
my
goodies? will
I
me
make
it
God
help and I'm
to the
end? where's
in
the durned kid? and to while the awful time workin up a
tuneful reminiscence or
two not
so
suffered but rather of the old wild
kinda world
I
mighta had yes
me
much
little
of the old obscenities
dreams of what in some other
with
my
wishful
way
of neckin
ducks and kissin toads and lizards
oh
I
know why
she's late
you warn
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
16
her and
it
does no good
I
know
who's got her giddy ear with his old
death-cunt-and-prick songs haven't
heard them
I
smelt his hot breath in the singin ? yes lickin his hairy black chops
I
and composin
my God
and
can see him
now
all
know him
his polyphonies outa
dread and appetite whisperin his eclogues sprung from disaster croonin his sacral entertainments yes
know him
I
well and
I tell
her
but Granny she says Granny you don't understand the times are different there's a
whole new
whose nose does
don't understand!
she think she's twistin the
and
juice in the
little
little
cow?
new fuzz on
bit of
hers that ain't got forests nor prodigies a dippy smile
her skirts up around her ears well well I
will
if
I'm not too
late already
go tippytoin through the
flux
drawers a few times and see
Granny God preserve me stand! hah! for ain't
her pubes
bubbies and off she prances into that world of
I
and
so
what
she don't
am?
if I
and tedium and if
on her
face
and
give her a mystery today
I'll
trip
shoot!
let
her
on her dropped
come runnin back
to old
whistlin a different tune! don't under-
the old Beauty
who
married the Beast? yes
knew
all
the old legends
my
did and gave
I
wouldn't that heard them ?
ain't there
my
them who
heart to
somethin wrong with Beauty
odd chasin about after toads and crows and stinky old creatures? but I had a dream and Papa maybe was uneasy about it but he was nothin if not orthodox and so had to respect it and even blessed my marriage when I found Papa?
me
sisters
would ask
ain't she a little
a Beast
only
my
Beast never became a prince
but Granny
new
generation! hah! child
transient as clouds
and
I
give you generations without
fertile as fieldmice!
revelations of rebirthers
don't speak to
and genitomancers! sing
to
him
I
have mated with the monster
my
a
number
me
of the
me no lumpen
ballads of deodorized earths cleansed of the stink of
revulsion! for
it's
love
enigma and and
listened
lap clean his lolly after
and the basket of goodies ?
is
that
you
THE DOOR: A PROLOGUE OF SORTS
my
on the path
dear? hurry! for
overflows and your
own
time
is
17
my
need
is
great
for listen
doggy stink
lifetime of his it
and child
and
my wisdom
hard by
until
I
truly felt
I
have suffered a
I
couldn't live without
would wake the dead though now I cannot and I have pawed in stewpots with him
his snore
sleep for the silence yes
and have paused
watch him drop a public turd or two on
to
side-
walks and seashores in populous parks and private parlors and
granddaughter his thick
on
as
I
have been
split
quick cock and then
he leapt other bitches
my
beauty decline
at
and
love
with the pain and
still
itchin
random and
still
I
Beast after
all
yes yes
me goodies!
for
I
I
have
my
hear you knockin
veils to lift
I
have watched
and
child loved the
come
tales to tell
Something had changed. She stood motionless Suspended. She
hummed
among
in! .
hurry! bring
.
at the cottage door.
the flowers alongside the path.
The sun
the white weatherboards with an incessant, almost
What was
urgent, calm.
.
damned
abandoned, orphaned. Yet discovered. The bees
felt
relentlessly
down on
beat
my own
no Prince no Prince and yet you
understand ? and loved him
doubt that
terrible haste of
and bleedin have gazed
—
it
?
Aha! To begin with: the door was
open! Yes, she had been
seemed, and that's
what
memory
—
?
many
it
coming here
and
years, forever
it
times each year, always for the same reason,
if
for years
—she hesitated: —always the door had been closed.
was, a reason, and always
no,
some dim
no
Well, and so what? She stepped back from the door, and a kind of relief swept over her, and a kind of anxiety. It was curious. That door. Yet, otherwise, things seemed about the same: the cottage itself,
white in the sun; the garden, well cared for and in neat
litde
rows, and over there the small shed where the garden tools were kept; the old well with the bucket like roof, the
bucket
itself
drawn up under
dry and cracked, surely
the small parasoluseless,
but
much
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
18
as
had always been;
it
cottage, the
down a short now could be
finally,
woods, where even
from the
distance
heard the familiar
chuck-chuck-chuck of the lumberman's axe, measured, deliberate, solemn, muffled but clearly audible.
It
was simply
that the door
was
open.
But wait! She frowned, clutched her basket around.
The
sun, like just the sun: wasn't
brighter, didn't standstill?
And
it
seem stuck up
there,
it
to her side, glanced
somehow
brought
hotter today,
to a strange deadly
the cottage, didn't the cottage have a harder edge,
the vines a subtler grip on the weatherboards, and wasn't the air
somehow
full of spiders?
She trembled. The old well seemed sud-
denly to hide some other well, the garden to speak of a stranger
And
unimagined garden.
even the friendly rhythmic chucking of
the lumberman's axe: wasn't versely insistent in
Old
stories
somehow
constancy ?
its
images with flashing teeth and
phantoms springing from the
childhood
too close by today, per-
welled in her like a summation of an old woman's
witless terrors, fierce sinuous eyes,
it
sun's night-tunnels to
terrible
devour her
—in fright, she reached impulsively for the doorknob,
tering brassily in the sun's glare. She hesitated.
The knob was warm
in her grip,
Beyond
glit-
the door?
and she had a new awareness of
breath and motion. She stared at the aperture and knew: not her.
No. That much was obvious, an age had ajar had told her. She
listened to the
surprised by so:
somehow
it
then, but
she had
the door
lumberman's steady axe-stroke. The woods.
Yes, an encounter, she smiled to recall
And
much
passed, that
no
known
longer. all
An
along.
it,
to
remember
his deference,
encounter and an emergence.
And knowing
she'd
known
eased her anguish. She smiled faintly at the mockery of
the basket she clutched. Well,
already apparent.
An
it
would be
a big production, that
elaborate game, embellished with
poetry, a marshalling of legendary doves
and herbs.
was
masks and
And why
not?
She could well
avail herself of his curiously obsequious appetite
while
Even
it
lasted.
as the
sun suddenly snapped
its
bonds and
jerked westward, propelling her over the threshold, she realized that
THE DOOR: A PROLOGUE OF SORTS though
this
returned, jurings,
it
its
gardens, and
was
a
comedy from which, once
nevertheless possessed
towers and
more
closets,
its
own
entered,
and even more pathways, more
immediate oppression of the scene behind
off her shoulders like a red cloak. All that
the sullen beat of the lumberman's axe,
remained of
and she was
that finally, by closing the door firmly behind her latch.
you never
astonishments and con-
doors.
Inside, she felt the
drop
19
able to
it
still
was even
and putting the
—
THE MAGIC POKER I
wander the
pines
island, inventing
it.
I
and birch and dogwood and
the pebbles of
its
abandoned
make
a sun for
it,
and
trees
—and cause the water to
firs
shores. This,
shadows and dampness, spin webs, and
and more:
scatter ruins.
I
lap
deposit
Yes: ruins.
mansion and guest cabins and boat houses and docks. Terraces,
A
too,
and bath houses and even an observation tower. All gutted and window-busted and autographed and shat upon. I impose a hot
midday
silence, a
profound and heavy
stillness.
But anything can
happen.
This small and secretive bay, here
20
just
below what was once the
— THE MAGIC POKER and not
caretaker's cabin
once possessed
21
its
own
far
from the main boat house, probably
system of docks, built out to protect boats
At least the refuse gray lumber heaped up at one end of
from the big rocks along the bony planks of
would suggest
shore.
But aside from the planks, the bay
that.
bay, shallow, floored with rocks
its
the bay
now
bottles.
long
only a
Schools of
fog the bottom, and dragonflies dart
silver fish, thin as fingernails,
and hover over
and cans and
is
—the
placid surface.
The
harsh snarl of the boat
—for indeed a boat has been approaching, coming in off the —breaks off abruptly, as the boat carves a
motor
lake into this small bay
long gentle arc through the bay, and a shallow pebbly corner. There are
Bedded deep lies
slides,
two
girls in the boat.
in the grass, near the path
a wrought-iron poker. It
worked handle, and
it is
is
scraping bottom, toward
up
to the first guest cabin,
long and slender with an
orange with
rust. It lies
but by the grass that has grown up wildly around
trees,
intricately
shadowed, not by it. I
put
it
there.
The
caretaker's
son, left
behind when the island was deserted,
crouches naked in the brambly fringe of the forest overlooking the bay.
He
and the
watches, scratching himself, as the boat scrapes to a stop girls
stand
—then he scampers through the trees and bushes
to the guest cabin.
The
girl
ruffled blouse, silk
jumps from the She
—fashionbook-trim makes neckscarf—
standing forward
hesitates,
one
false start,
then
boat, her sandaled heel catching the water's edge.
utters a short irritable cry,
finally in
in tight gold pants,
hops up on a rock, stumbles, lands
dry weeds on the other
side.
She turns her heel up and
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
22 *
frowns
down
ears tense
over her shoulder at
and
I
infest the walls. I tear
smash the windows, and
and
rot the porch
in front of her
at a thick black fly in
and asks peevishly: "What do
arrange the guest cabin.
and
Tiny muscles
She brushes anxiously
ripple.
front of her face,
I
it.
I
do now, Karen?"
tatter the screen
door
out the light switches, gut the mattresses,
shit
on the bathroom
floor. I rust the pipes,
kick in the papered walls, unhinge doors. Really, there's nothing to it.
In
fact, it's a pleasure.
Once,
earlier in this age, a family
entire island, here
these cabins
up on
with great wealth purchased
the border,
and
built
on
it all
island some, seeded
lawn
for the Japanese lanterns
up here from time on the
to
They tamed
own sewage
grass, contrived their
with indoor appurtenances, generated
caretaker
these houses,
and the mansion up there on the promontory, and the
boat house, docks, bath houses, observation tower.
and
this
electricity for the
rooms
the
system inside
and postlamps without, and they came
time in the summers. They used to maintain a
island year round, housed
him
in the cabin by the
boat house, but then the patriarch of the family died, and the rest
had other things
to do.
They stopped coming
to the island
and
forgot about caretaking.
The one
in gold pants watches as the girl
the motor into neutral
and upends
from the bottom, and
tosses
straight-armed, then shies takes her.
it
up with two
The
other
girl,
beige cardigan over
it
from
fingers
it,
up
a yellowish-gray rope
ashore to her. She reaches for it,
letting
it fall
to the
and a thumb and holds
Karen (she wears it),
in the boat switches
still
picks
it
it
ground. She
out in front of
a light yellow dress with a
pushes a toolkit under a
seat,
gazes thought-
THE MAGIC POKER
23
fully about the boat, then
jumps
water's edge, but she pays
no
in gold pants, loops
it
and then, with a nod,
At
out.
notice.
around a birch near the
leads the
way up
main house, the mansion,
the
balcony of
terrace, a
sorts,
its
many
is
a
tall
against the stone parapet.
He
unsure.
is
more
Also
The sound
distant, before
islands,
it
fireplaces
slender
warmly,
is
a kind of veranda or
wide interconnected expanses of
now, gazing thoughtfully
man, dressed
come
a boat
motor seemed
stopped. Yet,
in slacks, white
smoking a
jacket,
Has he heard of the
then: the mansion with
and wasps'
nests, its
loggia and bright red doors.
—
here for a while
poker to find
keys,
girl
on
pipe,
leaning
to the island?
to diminish, to
grow
water, especially around
one can never trust what he hears.
this,
piano.
there
its
and navy-blue
turtleneck shirt,
shore, smiles
the path.
islands. Poised there
out on that view,
shoes splash in the
high out on the promontory, offering a
spectacular view of the lake with
blue and
Her canvas
She takes the rope from the
I
—
I
first,
many
its
musty basement,
Though
the
two
have pulled out its
its
wires, chipped
green paint.
debris,
its
grand hexagonal
girls will
not come
I
am
I
have placed a green
and yellowed
nothing
if
its
ivory
not thorough, a
have dismembered the piano's pedals and
real stickler for detail. I
dropped an old boot in
its
its
they have the guest cabin to explore, the
have been busy. In the loggia,
and cracked
rooms,
its
zontal and harp-shaped).
body
(this, too, I've
The broken
wires
designed:
hang
it is
hori-
like rusted hairs.
The caretaker's son watches for their approach through a shattered window of the guest cabin. He is stout and hairy, muscular, dark, with short bowed legs and a rounded spiny back. The hair on his
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
24
head lip.
is
long,
His
and a thin young beard sprouts on
genitals
hang
His small eyes dart
to
thick
and
and heavy and
fro
:
where
and upper
his chin
his buttocks are shaggy.
are they
?
In the bay, the sun's light has been constant and oppressive; along the path, is
it is
mottled and varied. Even in
this variety,
though, there
kind of monotony, a determined patterning that wants a good
a
wind. Through these patterns move the two
girls,
Karen
long-strid-
ing with soft steps and expectant smile, the other girl hurrying behind, halting, hurrying again, slapping her arms, her
legs,
the
back of her neck, cursing plaintively. Each time she passes between the
two
trees,
the girl in pants stops, claws the space with her hands,
runs through, but spiderwebs keep diving and tangling into her hair just the same.
Between two heart
on
terrified.
its
trees
on the
abdomen
path, a large spider
—weaves an intricate web. The
Nimbly, the shiny black creature works,
out some terrible message for her alone.
through here without brushing into ward, holding her hands to her it is
—black
face.
as
How
with a red
girl stops short,
though spelling did Karen pass
it? The girl takes a step backWhich way around ? To the left
dark, to the right sunny: she chooses the sunny side and there,
not far from the path, comes upon a wrought-iron poker, long and slender with an intricately
worked handle. She bends low, her
golden haunches gleaming over the grass: strange impulse, she kisses
man, handsome, dressed jacket, smoking a pipe. says,
and takes her hand.
it
how
beautiful
poof! before her stands a
it is!
tall
On
in dark slacks, white turdeneck shirt,
He
smiles
down
at her.
"Thank
a
slender
and
you," he
THE MAGIC POKER Karen
is
some
when
distance in front, almost out of sight,
bedded in the
girl discovers,
with
25
grass, a
the other
wrought-iron poker. Orange
long and slender with an elaborate handle. She
rust, it is
crouches to examine
her haunches curving golden above the
it,
down
bluegreen grass, her long black hair drifting lightly
over her
small shoulders and wafting in front of her fineboned face. "Oh!"
she says softly. touches
underside
A
it,
strange!
picks
—but bugs!
How
beautiful!" Squeamishly, she
up, turns
it
it
over.
Not
so rusty
on the
millions of them! She drops the thing, shud-
wipes her hand several times on her pants, shudders
ders, stands,
again.
"How
grips
it,
few
steps
away, she pauses, glances back, then around
at
everything about her, concentrating, memorizing the place probably.
She hurries on up the path and
her
sees
sister
already at the
first
guest cabin.
The
girl in
they are
and
may
gold pants?
sisters. I
yes.
The
shall, in time,
send them
home
well choose to undress them.
the other none at cruelty. It
parents.
other one, Karen? also. In fact,
have brought two
all,
nor
is
I
again.
No,
I
have not.
some
We .
.
I
have dressed them and
have given one three marriages,
end of
that the
might even be argued that
strangely limited to
invented island,
sisters to this
I
my
beneficence and
have invented
have options that
may,
their I
common
admit, seem
.
She crouches, haunches flexing golden above the bluegreen
and
kisses the strange poker, kisses
shaft.
smiling
Yet
why
taste. I
else has she
grass,
its
long rusted
am
a fool, she
been diverted to
meadow? She kisses the tip—poof! "Thank you," he says, down at her. He bows to kiss her cheek and take her
small
hand.
handle and
Nothing. Only a harsh unpleasant
thinks, a silly romantic fool. this
its
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
26
The
guest cabin
funds
fashionable; proof of
vided by
its
traffic
Karen
is
with other cultures It is
standing, waiting for her
she sees her, ducking
hardly the fruit of
logs,
hand, but probably
at
gabled roof and log columns.
porch, where
when
rough-hewn
built of
is
necessity, given the
down
is
was thought
it
adequately pro-
here,
on the shaded
sister.
Karen waves
there along the path; then she
turns and enters the cabin through the broken front door.
He knows
that one. He's been there before.
He
crouches inside the
door, his hairy body tense. She enters, staring straight at him.
He
grunts. She smiles, backing away. "Karen!" His small eyes dart to
the doorway,
She
and he shrinks back
into the shadows.
kisses the rusted iron poker, kisses its ornate handle,
rusted shaft, kisses the
her mouth. Something
Nothing happens. Only
tip. is
its
long
a rotten taste in
wrong. "Karen!"
"Karen!" the
girl
from outside the guest
cabin.
"Karen,
found the most beautiful thing!" The second
step of
I
the porch
just is
in
pants
calls
She hops over
rotted away.
open the tattered screen door. "Karen, they've done
to this house!
I
it
onto the porch, drags
oh,
good God! look what
Just loo\l" Karen, about to enter the
kitchen, turns back, smiling, as her sister surveys the
walls
all
smashed
in,
switches pulled out!
Out here on what it!
Think
so
of
this island, so far
beautiful paper they
It's
—oh!
what
room: "The
even the plugs in the wall and the light it,
Karen! They even had
from everything
had on the
walls!
civilized!
And now
a dreadful beautiful beastly thing
electricity!
And,
see,
just look at all at
once!"
THE MAGIC POKER But where
is
27
the caretaker's son ?
I
with the his
This
girls
—to
shirt
I
don't
his legs
tell .
.
him
invent
and cause the hair girls, yes,
be sure, he's one of the
To he who invented me
here, shrink-
Yet, though she
no mention of the
is
I
was
first
to
my
I
round
hang between
and the
of
care-
myself, along
in the turtleneck shirt? Didn't
know. The
caretaker's son?
The
man
and the
back and stunt
buttocks?
awkward. Didn't
is
He
sister entered.
catalogues the room's disrepair, there taker's son.
know.
don't
when Karen's
ing into the shadows,
tall
man
But the
inventions.
sometimes wonder
his
in the
if it
was not
hanging hard and heavy, eyes
aglitter,
the truth,
I
.
caretaker's son, genitals
shrinks back into the shadows as the girl approaches, and then goes
bounding he peeks
silently into the
stealthily at the
empty rooms. Behind an unhinged door, declaiming
girl in
gold pants, then
almost instinctively, into the bathroom to hide.
where
Karen
first
It
was
slips,
here, after
all,
they met.
passes quietly through the house, as
though familiar with
it.
In the kitchen, she picks up a chipped blue teakettle, peers inside. All rust. She thumps the sunlight.
On
all
it,
the sound
is
sides, there are
dull.
She
sets it
on
a
bench in
broken things: rubble
really.
Windows gape, shards of glass in the edges pointing out the middle spaces. The mattresses on the floors have been slashed with knives. What Jittle there is of wood is warped. The girl in the tight gold pants and silk neckscarf moves, chattering, in and out of rooms. She
opens a white door, steps into a bathroom, steps quickly out again. "Judas God!" she gasps, clearly horrified. Karen turns, eyebrows raised in concern.
"Don't go in there, Karen! Don't go in there!"
She clutches one hand
to her ruffled blouse.
"About a hundred
million people have gone to the bathroom in there!" Exiting the
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
28
bathroom behind
warm
close
her, a lone fly
swims
elbow into the
lazily past her
air of the kitchen. It circles
over a cracked table
—the
table bearing newspapers, shreds of wallpaper, tin cans, a stiff black
washcloth chafes
—then
its
on
settles
a counter near a rusted pipeless sink.
rear legs, walks past the blue teakettle's
band of pure sunlight stretched out along
shadow
and
the counter,
It
into a sits
there.
The
tall
man
moved by
deeply
one foot up on the stone parapet, gazing out on
stands,
the blue sunlit lake,
drawing meditatively on
his pipe.
And
the desolation of this island.
desolation of artifact,
is it
not, the ruin of
He
yet, it
has been
is
only the
man's civilized arrogance,
nature reclaiming her own. Even the willful mutilations: a kind of instinctive response to the futile artifices of
imposed order,
But such reasoning does not appease him. Leaning against knee, staring out
upon the
vast wilderness,
after
all.
his raised
hoping indeed he has
heard a boat come here, he puffs vigorously on his pipe and affirms reason,
man,
order.
Are we merely blind brutes loosed
in a system of
mindless energy, impotent, misdirected, and insolent? "No," he says aloud,
"we
are not."
She peeks into the bathroom; scurely, shaggily,
but eyes
yes,
aglitter,
he
is
in there, crouching ob-
behind the
urgent grunt and smiles. "Oh, Karen!"
stool.
She hears
cries the other girl
rear of the house. "It's so very sad!" Hastily,
Karen
his
from the
steps out into
the hallway, eases the bathroom door shut, her heart pounding.
"Oh, Karen, of course. grass,
it's
Now
so very sad!" That's the girl in the gold pants again,
she
is
gazing out a window. At: high weeds and
crowding young
birches,
red rattan chair with the seat
THE MAGIC POKER smashed
29
backdrop of gray-trunked pines. She
out,
wrecked marriages, her
three
The broken
rattan
of real physical pain. "I
mean,
Where have all the Princes gone ? she wonders. who stole the things, you know, the
and eating them, and
doing
just
even
sorry for them.
I felt
if
it
I
Mexico and
Algiers, lots of
and fishheads out of the heaped-up
places, scooping rotten oranges
them,
thinking of her
not the ones
it's
scavengers. I've seen people in Paris and
gutters
is
and her desolation of spirit. chair somehow communicates to her a sensation affairs,
I
didn't
even
felt
blame them, sorry for
I
them
didn't dislike if
they were
something for nothing,
to be stealing something, to get
they weren't hungry or anything. But
it isn't
the people
who
look for things they want or need or even don't need and take them, the people
it's
just
want
who
just destroy, destroy because
to destroy! Lust! That's
went around
these
rooms driving
didn't matter
to hurt,
it
with his
feet,
who
all,
—God!
Karen! See? Somebody
his fist in the walls because
would anybody want
it
all!
Oh my
God!
curtains
is,
but for one panel,
whole. In the excepted panel, the rupture in the glass
spanned by a spiderweb more stars,
its
intricate
silver paths
than a
seeming
butterfly's
hole. It
is
a
new web,
alter its original construction.
then withdraws. "Karen,
The
girls
have gone.
let's
still
now
is
wing, than
to imitate or perhaps
merely to extend the delicate tracery of the fractured glass
rounding the
and
Why? Why
do that?" The window in front of Karen
to
(she has long since turned her back)
a system of
just
he had
maybe he kicked them
or what, or
and bashed the windows and ripped the
then went to the bathroom on
because they
for nothing has entered
still it
Karen's hand reaches toward
sur-
yet to it,
but
get out of here!"
The
caretaker's
son
bounds about the
guest cabin, holding himself with one hand, smashing walls and
busting windows with the other, grunting happily as he goes. leaps
He
up onto the kitchen counter, watches the two girls from the as they wind their way up to the main mansion, then
window,
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
30
... a love
squats joyfully over the blue teakettle, depositing
letter,
so to speak.
A
love letter!
happened
Wait a minute,
to that poker, I
had something going
this is getting
was doing much
there, archetypal
blend of eros and wisdom, sex and
what
am
I
going
to
do with
out of hand!
and even maybe
sensibility,
to
Enough
that the skin of the world
artifice,
lepered with the stigmata of
beautiful, a
music and myth. But
shit in a rusty teakettle
nothing
What
better with the poker, I
?
No, no,
there's
be gained by burdening our fabrications with impieties.
without suffering our songs to be
is
littered
human
with our contentious
aggression and despair,
by savagery. Back
flatted
to the
poker.
"Thank
you," he says, smiling
down
at her, her
golden over the shadowed grass. "But, kiss it?" "Call
and
was
rises
it
woman's
tell
me,
haunches gleaming
how
did you
with an appreciative glance. "But the neglected
in, it
must have
kisses her gently
know
to
intuition," she replies, laughing lightly, state that
tasted simply dreadful," he apologizes,
on the cheek. "What momentary
bitterness
I
it
and
might
have suffered," she responds, "has been more than indemnified by the sweetness of your disenchantment." no,
my
dear, there are
styles of possession.
marveling, at his
"My
disenchantment?
To
exist
is
to
be spell-bound." She collapses,
feet.
Karen, alone on the path to the mansion, pauses. Where sister ?
Oh
no disenchantments, merely progressions and
Has something
distracted her
has gone on ahead. Well, desolate island? they'll
it
?
Has
is
her
she strayed ? Perhaps she
hardly matters, what can happen on a
meet soon enough
at the
mansion. In
fact,
THE MAGIC POKER Karen
31
even thinking about her
isn't
she's staring silently,
sister,
entranced, at a small green snake, stretched across the path.
dozing? Or simply unafraid? Maybe before, doesn't
know what
come here now, and
it
it's
Is it
never seen a real person
people can do.
It's
possible:
few people
young snake.
looks like a very
Slender,
No, probably it's asleep. Smiling, Karen away from the snake so as not to disturb it. To the right of the path is a small clearing and the sun is hot there; to the left it is cool and shadowed in the gathering forest. Karen moves that way, in under the trees, picking the flowers that grow wildly here. Her cardigan catches on brambles and birch seedlings, so she pulls it of?, tosses it loosely over her shoulder, hooked on one wriggly, green, and shiny.
leaves the path, circling
finger.
She hears, not far away, a sound not unlike
Curious, she wanders that
The path up
to the
way
to see
an ambience of mushrooms and
gold pants, were she to come
and
what
crickets
this
it
is
it is.
not even mottled,
dark and damp-smell-
all, it is
dead brown leaves never quite dry, or so
dart to
or
main house, the mansion,
the sun does not reach back here at ing,
who
soft footfalls.
and fingery
might seem
way. Where
is
rustles
and
to the girl in
she ? His small eyes
Here, beside the path, trees have collapsed and
fro.
rotted, seedlings
and underbrush have sprung up, and
crept softly over
all surfaces, alive
lichens have
and dead. Strange creatures abide
here.
"Call
it
woman's
intuition," she says
with a light laugh.
praises her fineboned features, her delicate hands, her soft
breasts
under the
ruffled blouse, her firm
over the shadowed grass. cheek.
"You and
like to lie
kisses his
ap-
haunches gleaming golden
pulls her gently to her feet, kisses her
are enchantingly beautiful,
"Wouldn't you replies,
He
He
maidenly
with
me
my
dear!" he whispers.
here awhile?" "Of course," she
cheek in return, "but these pants are an awful
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
32
my
bother to remove, and
awaits us.
sister
Come! Let
us go
up
to
the mansion!"
A
small green snake
lies
proaching does not see girl in tight
Her hand
it,
motionless across the path. sees
pants which are
flutters ceaselessly
that drove these people right way?",
at the
its
golden here in the deep shadows.
before her face,
away from here
it
was surely the bugs "Karen,
finally,
shiny green
tail off
her
now switches with a frantic damp leaves. The girl starts
at her feet, spins
around clutching her
upper arms, expecting the worst, but though staring
to her
sister talk
the webs
sister's
all
and
the gnats
on
girl
come up
is
just a small hairy
beyond the mound of heavy back. His arms are
and the elbows,
grows between
up a pebble
the path.
caretaker's son.
of dark hair sprout randomly. His head
are short,
on up the path,
From the rear, his prominent broad and rounded, humped almost, where tufts
Karen watches the his back,
flies,
a moss-covered rock, peek-
ing through thick branches, watches the
is
did she ever
name.
caretaker's son, poised gingerly
feature
Why
her into coming here? "Karen!" She runs, ignoring
now, right through
crying out her
The
this the
into the
wide-eyed right at the sound, she can see nothing. let
is
and she very nearly walks right on the snake, which
sudden whirring shush
hands
girl ap-
only the insects flicking damply, the
still
has perhaps been dozing, but which
whip of
The
like the knees, turn
his buttocks
to toss at
and down
as
long
lump
as his legs
outward. Thick hair
his thighs. Smiling, she picks
him, but then she hears her
sister call
her
name.
Leaning against
his raised knee,
the parapet stares out
on the
smoking
his pipe, the tall
man on
wilderness, contemplating the island's
THE MAGIC POKER
33
upon one
ruin. Trees have collapsed island,
another, and vast areas of the
once cleared and no doubt the stage for garden parties
famous
now
for miles around, are
everything in sight union, he
moment,
recalls,
it
have company,
He
and
smiles
same
at the
has been brought into being by his smile,
A
on the garden path.
hears a voice
and
shinleaf,
mottled with moss. Lichens: the symbiotic
is
of fungi and algae.
though
as
Brambles
virtually impassable.
and bunchberries grow wildly amid saxifrage and
At
after all!
least
How
girl.
charming,
he's to
two, for he heard the voice on the
path behind the mansion, and below him, slipping surefootedly
through the
trees
and bushes, moves another creature
dress, carrying a beige sweater over her shoulder.
in a yellow
She looks a
little
simple, not his type really, but then dissimilar organisms can, at
He
times, enjoy mutually advantageous partnerships, can they not?
knocks the ashes from
At
times,
his pipe
and
forget that this arrangement
I
begin to think of the island as intractable,
an
the bowl.
refills
its
I
is
my own
invention.
real, its objects solid
much an
condition of ruin not so
denouement.
historical
somehow
aesthetic design as
find myself peering into blue teakettles,
batting at spiderwebs, and contemplating a greenish-gray growth the side of a stone parapet.
without
my knowing
I
remain. "I have brought two
This
is
no extravagance.
wonder
wonder
I
it;
and
griefs, I
have provided them. "In
done this
all
that
seemed
I
as
and even more say to you. is
.
.
.)
is
shall do.
not I
might
I
die
and the
teakettle
invented island,"
I
say.
who burdens them with
rhetoric. If they fact/' I add,
(I interrupt
on
might wander here
here to
have names and
"without tell
me
they'd
you that
I
have
return here to bring you this news, since
good a place to suffer
if I
indeed
and
history, appetite
others
if
sisters to this
It is
curiosity
have no cunts." This
I
and
as any.
from me,
Though you have more
this is
to face,
in fact the last thing
I
shall
But can the end be in the middle? Yes, yes, it always to alarm, merely to make a truth manifest—yet / am
meant
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
34
myself somewhat alarmed. hair between
my
It is
one thing
to discover the
shag of
buttocks, quite another to find myself tugging the
Or perhaps
tight gold pants off Karen's sister.
Where
yet troubling in either case.
it
the same thing,
is
come from,
does this illusion
this
sensation of "hardness" in a blue teakettle or an iron poker, golden
haunches or a green piano ?
In the hexagonal loggia of the mansion stands a grand piano,
now
painted bright green, though chipped and cracked
and abuse. One can
imagine a child
easily
such a piano, a piano so
at
glad and ready, perhaps two children, and the sun rather, there
is
a storm
on the
lake, the sky
is
bit,
on the
boy on the
right, the
and
wind and storm, the
pushing
left,
—no,
shining
is
in a fury, all black
pitching, the children are inside here out of the little girl
with age
at
each other a
staking out property lines on the keys, a grandmother, or per-
haps just a lady, yet
why
not a grandmother? sitting on a window-
bench gazing out on the frothy blue-black playing "Chopsticks," laughing, a
lake,
and the children are
noisy surely, and the grand-
little
mother, or lady, looks over from time to time, forms a patient smile if
they chance to glance
up
at her,
then
—well, but
only a suppo-
it's
sition,
who knows whether
damn
about a green piano even on a bad day, "Chopsticks"
all?
No,
it's
if
they cared a
only a piece of fancy, the kind of fancy that
through the mind of the strikes a key.
there were children or
There
is
girl in
gold pants
who now
no sound, of course. The ivory
is
least of
passing
reaches is
down,
chipped and
yellowed, the pedals dismembered, the wires torn out and hanging like rusted hairs.
lock loose
The
girl
wonders
at her
on her forehead, but there
own
are
unkemptness,
feels
a
no mirrors. Stolen or
broken. She stares about her, nostalgically absorbed for some reason, at the elegantly
timbered roof of the loggia,
fireplace, at the old
at the
enormous stone
shoe in the doorway, the wasps' nests over one
broken-out window. She sighs, steps out on the terrace, steep and
proud over the
lake. "It's a sad place," she says aloud.
THE MAGIC POKER
The
tall
man
35
in the navy-blue jacket stands,
on
stone parapet, gazing out
on
tatively
his pipe, while being sketched
gold pants. "I
somehow
been waiting for you,"
him from
one foot up on the
the blue sunlit lake,
by the
drawing medi-
girl in the tight
expected to find you here," she says. "I've
man. Her
replies the
three-quarters view of
the rear allows her to include only the tip of his nose in
her sketch, the edge of his pipebowl, the collar of his white turtle-
neck
shirt. "I
was
afraid there
names everywhere
I
might be
others," she says. "Others?"
Or somebody's grandmother.
"Yes. Children perhaps.
I
saw
so
many
went, on walls and doors and trees and even
scratched into that green piano." She
carefully filling in
is
on her
sketch the dark contours of his navy-blue jacket. "No," he says,
"whoever they were, they says,
"and
losing
all
too
struggle
brought
to
much
left
like
against
here long ago."
my own
life."
inscrutable
moment," she
says,
and he resumes
plished a reasonable likeness of the
"You mean, the young dreams says. "And getting
nods.
forces,
ruin?" "Yes, something like that," she
kicked in and gutted and shat upon." a
He
blind
"Mmm." He his pose.
tall
a sad place," she
"It's
straightens. "Just
The
man, except
girl has
accom-
that his legs are
stubby (perhaps she failed to center her drawing properly, and ran
out of space at the bottom of the paper) and his buttocks are bare
and shaggy.
"It's
a sad place," he says, contemplating the vast wilderness.
He
turns to find her grinning and wiggling her ears at him. "Karen,
you're
on
mocking me!" he complains, laughing. She props one
the stone parapet, leans against her leg, sticks
between her it!"
teeth,
and scowls out upon the
lake.
foot
up
an iron poker
"Come
on! Stop
he laughs. She puffs on the iron poker, blowing imaginary
smokerings, then turns
it
into a
imitating an old granny chasing
poker to her shoulder like a
walking
young
rifle
stick
and hobbles about
children. Next, she puts the
and conducts an inspection of
all
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
36
windows facing on
the broken
broadly before each one.
the terrace, scowling or weeping
The man
has slumped to the terrace
floor,
doubled up with laughter. Suddenly, Karen discovers an unbroken
window. She
up and down, does
leaps
jumps up and
man
points again. "Yes, yes!" the
window, Karen?" he
like the
laughs, "I see
window,
points to herself, then at the
a somersault, pirouettes,
She points
clicks her heels together.
at
it,
but
and rusty and he
dirty
stand
through the window.
clumsy with the thing.
feels
She grabs
."
.
.
it
out of his hands and
his hands. It
is
"I don't under-
crash!
"Oh no, Karen! No, no ...
it,
laughing. She
still
nods her head vigorously, thrusts the iron poker into
kisses
"You ? You're
to herself again.
asks, puzzled,
it,
Karen!" She
—drives
it
1"
Karen has joined her sister on the terrace, the balcony, and they gaze out at the lake, two girls alone on a desolate a sad place."
"It's
island.
regret
"Sad and yet
any of
don't regret
wouldn't
it,
it,
it.
all
too right for me,
Karen. No,
It'd
be
silly
Karen?" The
I
suppose. Oh,
was wrong, wrong
I
don't
as always, but I
pinched and morbid about
to be all
girl,
I
of course,
it,
talking about the failure
is
of her third marriage. "Things are done and they are undone and
then
we
get ready to do
them
Karen looks
again."
at
her shyly, then
turns her gentle gaze back out across the lake, blue with a river's
muted blue under
this
pants exclaims, though to explain that she
is
"The sun!"
afternoon sun. it is
like the
why
the girl in gold
she thought of
it.
sun somehow, or the sun
is
not clear
She
tries
like her,
but she becomes confused. Finally, she interrupts herself to blurt out: "Oh, Karen! I'm so miserable!" there are fully
no
tears in
on her lower
her
lip.
sister's eyes,
Karen
quite understanding perhaps,
moment, then grace
settles
Karen looks up anxiously:
but she
is
biting
down
pain-
offers a smile, a little
awkward, not
and
eyes closing a
finally
fluttering open, smiles
her
wanly
sister,
in return.
A
between them, but Karen turns her back on
moment it
of
clumsily.
THE MAGIC POKER
37
"No, Karen! Please! Stop!" The man, collapsed has tears of laughter running old shoe and silent
is
now
down
holding
it
up
at arm's length,
motions with her upper torso and free arm
ing upon the sadness of the shoe. She
and squats down over
floor
to the terrace floor,
Karen has found an
his cheeks.
it,
sets
covering
as
making broad
though declaim-
the shoe
on the
with the
it
terrace
skirt of
her
yellow dress. "No, Karen! No!" She leaps up, whacks her heels together in midair, picks
up the shoe and peers
spreads across her face, and she does a aloft.
With
a
little
A
no!
A broad
still
smile
dance, holding the shoe
man. "No!
curtsy, she presents the shoe to the
Please!" Warily, but
Oh
little
inside.
laughing, he looks inside. "What's this?
flower! Karen, this
is
much!" She runs
too
into the
mansion, returns carrying the green piano on her back. She drops
one leg breaks
so hard,
up with
it,
sits
off.
it
She finds an iron poker, props the piano
down on an imaginary
stool to play.
She
lifts
her
hands high over her head, then comes driving down with extravagant magisterial gestures.
The
piano, of course, has been completely
disemboweled, so no sounds emerge, but up and
keyboard Karen's stubby fingers
fly,
arriving at
down last,
the,
broken
with a cre-
scendo of violent flourishes, at a grand climactic coda, which she delivers with such force as to buckle the
two remaining
legs of the
Oh
piano and send
it all
my God!" Out
of the wreckage, a wild goose springs, honking in
crashing to the terrace
floor.
"No, Karen!
holy terror, and goes flapping out over the lake. Karen carries the
piano back inside, there's a splintering carash, and she returns wielding the poker. "Careful!" She holds the poker up with two hands
and does a
little
dance, toes turned outward, hippety-hopping about
the terrace. She stops abruptly over the front of his nose, then slowly brings
it
man,
to her
thrusts the poker in
own
lips
and
kisses
it.
She makes a wry face. "Oh, Karen! Whoo! Please! You're killing me!" She kisses the handle, the shaft, the tip. She wrinkles her nose and shudders, lifts her skirt and wipes her tongue with it. She scowls at the poker. She takes a firm grip on the poking end and bats the handle a couple times against the stone parapet as testing
it.
"Oh, Karen! Oh!" Then she
lifts it
though
high over her head
—
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
38
and brings
down with
it
caretaker's son,
him,
yowling with pain. She
he strikes out
as
at
wham! —poof!
her might
all
lets
it
the
is
go and spins away from
her in distress and fury. She tumbles into a
corner of the terrace and cowers there, whimpering, pale and
terri-
the caretaker's son, breathing heavily, back stooped and
fied, as
buttocks tensed, circles her, prepared
spring.
to
Suddenly, she
dashes for the parapet and leaps over, the caretaker's son bounding after,
and
off they go,
brambles, leaving the
scrambling frantically through the tall
man
and limp from laughter on the
There
is
Two
grandmother
with an iron poker, then returns
The
and
terrace.
a storm on the lake.
the green piano. Their
trees
in the white turtleneck shirt alone
on
children play "Chopsticks" stirs
the embers in the fireplace
to her seat
on the windowbench.
children glance over at her and she smiles at them. Suddenly a
strange naked creature comes bounding into the loggia, grinning idiotically.
The
children and their grandmother scream with terror
and race from the room and on out of the mansion, running their lives.
The
visitor leaps
up on the piano bench and squats
staring quizzically at the ivory keys.
sounds a note another
—a
—he
jerks his
different note.
He
hand back
He
reaches for one and
in fright.
brings his
for
there,
fist
He
it
reaches for
down blam! Aha!
Again: blam! Excitedly, he leaps up and down on the piano bench,
banging
his
fists
on the piano keyboard.
finds wires inside, genitals with
it,
pulls
them
out.
He
hops up on the piano,
twang! twang!
He
holds his
one hand and rips out the wires with the other, grunt-
ing with delight.
admires
and
Then he
spies the iron poker.
He
grabs
it
up,
then bounds joyfully around the room, smashing win-
dows and wrecking furniture. The girl in gold pants enters and takes the poker away from him. "Lust! That's all it is!" she scolds. She whacks him on the nates with the poker, and, yelping with pain and astonishment, he bounds away, leaping over the stone parapet,
and
slinks off
through the brambly
forest.
THE MAGIC POKER
39
"Lust!" she says, "that's
"And
happen.
Her sketch is nearly The worst ones are the
all it is!"
they're not the worst ones.
kept their caretaker here
If they'd
."
complete.
who The man
ones
just let
it
smiles.
"There never was a caretaker," he explains. "Really? But
thought—!" "No," he seems taken aback by understand
He
sketch.
.
.
."
He
laughs
says, "that's just a
this
when he
he exclaims, "but a poor
sees the
likeness,
a movie
starlet's.
Her
.
.
wanders over
I
.
then
I
don't
to appraise her
shaggy buttocks. "Marvelous!"
He
I'm afraid! Look!"
dark slacks and show her his hindend, smooth less as
.
legend of the island." She
new knowledge. "Then
relights his pipe,
.
curiosity
is
as
lowers his
marble and hair-
caught, however, not by his
barbered buttocks, but by the hair around his genitals the tight neat :
curls fan out in both directions like the
goose
.
.
The two
wings of an
.
sisters
return to the loggia, their visit nearly concluded, the
one in gold pants
trying to explain about herself and the sun,
still
about consuming herself with an outer icecold center within. It is
eagle, or a wild
obvious she
still
Her gaze
falls
fore the green piano. Haltingly, she note, only a dull thuck. it
while harboring an
has something more to say. But
declaims, she has less of an audience.
obtained about
fire,
once more on the green piano.
Her
sister reveals
not being the people
wantonly destroy, but those
Karen stands
lifts
who
let it
now
as she
distractedly be-
a finger, strikes a key. a
new
who
insight she has just
steal or
happen,
No
who
even those
who
just don't give a
proper damn. She provides instances. Once, Karen nods, but maybe only at something she has thought to herself.
Thuck! Again. Thuck! Her whole arm
Her
finger
lifts,
strikes.
drives the strong blunt
Thuck! Thuck! There is something genuinely beautiful about the girl in gold pants and silk neckscarf as she gestures and speaks. Her eyes are sorrowful and wise. Thuck! Karen strikes the key. Suddenly, her sister breaks off her message. "Oh, I'm sorry,
finger.
PRICKSONGS
40
Karen!" she
She
says.
stares at the piano,
DESCANTS
8c
then runs out of the
room.
I
am
disappearing.
You have no doubt
noticed. Yes,
and by some no
we
doubt calculable formula of event and pagination. But before drift apart to a distance
warn you: as
like Zeno's turtle, I
feared,
I
beyond the reach of confessions (though
geography.
my
am
invented island
Why,
this island
with you always),
is
really
taking
much
sounds very
its
place in world
wonder: can
it
be happening? Someone
tells
put
a resort there or something.
yet
it
seems possible.
there's Jackfish Island.
surely.
me
And
I
On my
look on a
Who
Dahl-
like the old
berg place on Jackfish Island up on Rainy Lake, people
somebody bought the place recendy and plans
me: to fix
and
say,
invented this
I
understand
I it
up,
maybe
—and
island? Extraordinary!
map:
I
listen: it's just
yes, there's
Rainy Lake,
map?
I
Well,
must have,
the Dahlbergs, too, of course, and the people
about them. Yes, and perhaps tomorrow
I
who
and Jesus Christ and the history of the moon.
Just as
told
Chicago
will invent
have
I
in-
vented you, dear reader, while lying here in the afternoon sun,
bedded deeply in the bluegreen grass
There
is
a storm
on the lake and
wind howls around trees
like
an old iron poker
the water
is
The two
.
.
The
frothy and black.
the corner of the stone parapet
shake and creak.
.
and the pine
on
children playing "Chopsticks"
the green piano are arguing about the jurisdiction of the bench and
keyboard.
"Come
over here," their grandmother says from her seat
by the window, "and
I'll tell
you the
Once upon a time, a family island on Rainy Lake up on
story of
The Magic Poker'
.
.
."
of wealthy Minnesotans bought an the Canadian border.
They
built
a
THE MAGIC POKER
home on
it
They
tower.
indoor
41
and guest cabins and boat houses and an observation an electric generator and a sewage system with
installed
toilets,
maintained a caretaker, and constructed docks and
name it Jackfish Island, or did it bear that The legend does not say, nor should it. however, is that when the family abandoned the
bath houses. Did they
name when
What
they bought it?
does say,
it
island, they left
behind an iron poker, which, years
young
the island, a beautiful
girl,
And when
altogether equal to the occasion, kissed.
thing quite extraordinary happened
Once upon
a time there
was an
.
.
who had
Others
island visited
either died or
said, no, there
was never
legend. Others believed there there yet
All this that
and was
is
back.
Only
so,
some-
it
had once had a
found another job elsewhere.
was only a
childish
was indeed a caretaker and he
What
visited the island,
names were
and carved on
Once upon its
their
she did
lived
in fact responsible for the island's tragic condition.
dary Magic Poker or avenging the
ceilings
a visit to
by ruin and inhabited
a caretaker, that
neither here nor there.
no one who
on
.
by strange woodland creatures. Some thought caretaker
later,
not quite a princess perhaps, yet
a time,
left,
is
certainly
beyond dispute
whether searching for loss of a
its
is
legen-
came on walls and
loved one, ever
inscribed hastily
trees.
two
sisters visited a desolate island.
paths with their proclivities and scruples,
dreaming
They walked their
dreams
They scared a snake and probably a windows (there were few left to break), and gazed meditatively out upon the lake from the terrace of the main house. They wrote their names above the stone fireplace in the hexagonal loggia and shat in the soundbox of an old green piano. One of them did anyway; the other one couldn't get her pants and sorrowing
their sorrows.
bird or two, broke a few
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
42
On
down.
the island, they found a beautiful iron poker,
they went home, they took
The
cabin and on
earlier the
down
the mottled path toward the boat.
who
will not live out the
hops into a darkness.
stone, burps,
web
down
the
snake slept and past the gutted guest
To
either side
and bees mumble indolently under the summer sun.
flies
small speckled frog
the
and when
with them.
gold pants hastens out of the big house and
girl in
dark path where
of her,
it
A
A
day squats staring on a
white moth
drifts silently into
of a spider, flutters there awhile before his execution. Sud-
denly, there
on the path mottled with
sunlight, the girl stops short,
her breath coming in short gasps, looking around her. Wasn't this
—
there
?
Yes, yes,
it is!
it is
A smile begins
the place!
to
form.
And
in fact,
She waits for Karen.
Once upon
was a beautiful young Princess in tight gold fact that no one could remove them from her.
a time there
pants, so very tight in
Knights came from far and wide, and they huffed and they puffed,
and they grunted and they groaned, but the pants would not come
down. One rash Knight even went so far as to jam the blade of his sword down the front of the gold pants, striving to pry them from her, but
lifelong
he succeeded only in shattering
dismay and ignominy. The King
his sword,
"shall
to his
at last delivered a Procla-
mation. "Whosoever shall succeed in pulling
down," he declared,
much
my
daughter's pants
have her for his bride!" Since
this
was
perhaps not the most tempting of trophies, the Princess having been
married off three times already in previous competitions, the King
added:
"And moreover he
shall
have bestowed upon him the Magic
Poker, whose powers and prodigies are well-known in the King-
dom!" "The Old Man's got Knight complained sourly mation. "If
I
his
to a
bloody cart before his horse," one
companion upon hearing the Procla-
had the bloody Poker, you could damn well bet
I'd
— THE MAGIC POKER have no trouble
43
gettin' the
bloody pants off her!"
Now,
it
chanced
remark was overheard by a peculiar little gnomehuddling naked and unshaven in the brush alongside
that this heedless like creature,
the road, and no sooner had the words been uttered than this
Magic Poker and win the might well have seemed im-
strange fellow determined to steal the
beauty for himself. Such an enterprise
most dauntless of Knights, much
possible for even the
but the truth, always stranger than
once been the King's
among
and
the mysteries
fiction,
Official Caretaker,
was
loins,
that his father
had
and the son had grown up
chambers of the Court. Imagine the
secret
Kingdom's astonishment,
entire
less for so
naked brute with the shaggy
hapless a creature as this poor
therefore,
when, the very next day,
the Caretaker's son appeared, squat, naked, and hirsute, before the
King and with grunts and broad
gestures
tion to quit the Princess of her pants
The
"Indeed!" cried her father. the Palace, and j
all
manifest his inten-
King's laughter
for himself!
boomed throughout
the Knights and Ladies joined in, creating the
my
of uproars. "Bring
oiliest
made
and win the prizes
daughter here at once!" the King
The
thundered, delighted by the droll spectacle.
Princess,
but at the same time somewhat afrighted of the strange
amused,
little
man,
stepped timidly forward, her golden haunches gleaming in the bright lights of the Palace. the
The
Magic Poker, pointed
it
Caretaker's son promptly
at the Princess,
and
poof!
drew
forth
—the
gold
dropped—plop!—to the Palace floor. "Oh's!" and "Ah's!" of amazement and admiration rose up in excited chorus from the crowd of nobles attending this most extraordinary moment. Flushed, trembling, impatient, the Princess grasped the Magic Poker and pants
kissed
it—poof!—a handsome Knight
navy blue stood before
her,
in shining
smoking a
pipe.
He
armor of white and drew his sword and
slew the Caretaker's son. Then, smiling at the maiden standing in her puddle of gold pants, he sheathed his sword, knocked the ashes
from
his pipe bowl,
said, "I
have
all," replied
the fool,
and knelt before the King. "Your Majesty," he monster and rescued your daughter!" "Not at
slain the
the
King
gloomily.
"You have made her
a
widow. Kiss
my dear!" "No, please!" the Knight begged. "Stop!"
?
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
44
"Look, Karen, look! See what it? It doesn't hurt,
just beautiful
and
does
I
it,
Do
found!
I
you think we can take
can scour off the rust and
I
— — ?" Karen glances at
mean, what with everything
else
?
the poker in the grass, shrugs, smiles in assent, turns to stride
down
Could you please sister,
head
something
—
trees,
?"
one
tilted to
below, at the end of the path. "Karen
Karen turns around, gazes side
like a half-gargle,
—then
laughs, a
it,
but Karen grunts again, keeps
There, she washes
She
dries
it
Her
it,
sister,
carries it
delighted, reaches
down
"Don't get your dress
dress.
rusty anyway. We'll clean
it
when we
Wet
it.
still,
it
it
to their boat.
with sand.
it
dirty,
Karen!
It's
Karen holds
get home."
between them a moment before tossing both smile to see
low grunting sound,
clean in the lake water, scrubbing
it
on her
—
quizzically at her
walks back and picks up the poker,
brushes off the insects with her hand. for
on
which can be
the rise toward the boat, a small white edge of
glimpsed through the
It's
into the boat,
glistens, sparkling
with
it
and they flecks of
rainbow-colored light in the sunshine.
The
tall
man
stands poised before her,
smoking
his pipe,
one hand
in the pocket of his navy-blue jacket. Besides the jacket, he wears
only a white turtleneck
shirt.
The
girl in
From
the tip of his
Only
a bitter wild goose taste in the
crown
gold pants
to the least of his toes.
is
kissing him.
Nothing happens.
mouth. Something
is
wrong.
"Karen!" Karen laughs, a low gunting sound, then takes hold of the
man and
lifts
"Stop!" poof!
her
skirts.
From
her
"No, Karen! Please!" he
cries,
laughing.
Karen withdraws a wrought-iron worked handle. "It's for it. Karen reaches exclaims and
skirts,
poker, long and slender with an intricately beautiful,
Karen!" her
smile to see
it.
a beautiful day.
It
sister
up between them a moment, and they both glistens in the sunshine, a handsome souvenir of
grunts again, holds
it
THE MAGIC POKER
Soon the bay returned,
is
45
and the dragonflies are
again, the silver fish
still
and only the
slightest
murmur
near the shore by the old
waterlogged lumber betrays the recent disquiet. far out
who
on the
lake,
its
prepared this island does not
nor would
it
astonish
them
place, or
to
why
they built
know
to hear of
common
that touch of the divinity
forgotten
boat
all
on
family
have probably
this island in the first
to
squander good hours, over the selection of
made
already
a matter of fact, with
to the rich, they
the things
is
The
the girls have been here,
As
it.
whatever possessed them seriously
decorate the newly
The
stern confronting us in retreat.
concern themselves,
this or that object to
spaces or to do the things that
had usually
to be done, over the selection of this or that iron poker, for example.
The
boat
is
almost out of sight, so distant in
possible to see
are— all
its
occupants or even to
just a blurred speck
the lowering sun.
The
lake
frog dies, a strange creature
fact, it's
no longer
know how many
there
on the bright sheen laid on the lake by calm. Here, a few shadows lengthen, a
is
lies slain,
a tanager sings.
MORRIS IN CHAINS We
have him,
I
make
intransigent effort in the
Morris has
this report to the nation. Sleepless search,
common
at last surrendered.
behalf: our thanks to his captors!
Pursued night and day through the
complexity of our parksystem (Morris, old head, protested: '"But only the parks remain!" Bumpkin! know, then, that
is
not your
crime!), tracked by the undisguisable deposit of sheepshit, am-
bushed in the end by a massing of passive
was
tion
It will
shot.
brief, the confession
not repeat not be
tourists.
The
interroga-
not quite so: alexandrian impudence!
made
public. Morris
is
in chains, his sheep
He has requested exile— they all do! —he shall not receive it.
The hunt was
long, nor
was
it
painless
:
Morris trod old paths,
forced a suffering of the inveterate green visions, a merciless hacking
46
— MORRIS IN CHAINS
47
damp growths
through the
haps an epic of
its
must be granted the grandeur.
Much
of our historic hebephrenia. It
was
per-
kind, our best minds were engaged, and yet chis captive:
was
it
his
own grit and
cunning gave
time was wasted, of course, undue risks taken.
fundamental error here was probably in the chase
itself.
it
Our
But once
the remarkable Doris Peloris, M.D., Ph.D., U.D., assumed com-
mand,
the
end came quickly. She gathered the necessary
data, reined
in the hunters, set a trap of mechanical crickets,
and waited
inexorable conclusion. All praise to Dr. Peloris!
Her wisdom
for the
the
is
State's blessing!
Encounters with Morris were never
who
stayed to fight. Cowardice?
but Morris never
rare,
could say so? he had his sheep to
care for. Loose shreds of shrill fluting
would reach our
bucking the melodic rack, we would approach,
ears,
and,
encircle, converge,
catch a glimpse of his beardtuft, sheepskin jerkin, leather breeches
and then: gone! how explain
sheep and
it?
all.
For a time: confu-
group gloom. Then a distant report of Morris' piping
sion, silence,
:
and the chase was on again.
It
was almost
as
though Morris were
challenging us. But simple song against our science! he course. clear
hand,
As
how it is
well
is
known, our parks
are not connected. It
Morris forded the concrete
no
unredeemed
secret that
still
stretches,
but on the other
he has friends in the City. Categories of the
tile sluices I tell
ye
poor old Rameses and the to dry
girls their
if
they figger to live so
makes a grim swim of wool all clotted with that gop
close atop each other they gotta excrete less
it
by and overhead the raspin scrape of
steel heels
needlin the concrete cobble that caterwaul of sirenshrieks the
me
sure ain't nothin like the nightjars scares
pox on ain't
em
old furry legs!
it
it's
damn hard
silly
to
come by
I
which
sometimes/ well a
mine god knows / that's all I'm seekin and
ain't the choice
got no mission! just alfalf and lotus
these days
of
not yet
through their blinkerin unarkades and splashin
here below through the
and no suns
lost,
to be catalogued.
(slippin nightlike
it
is
can
is
tell
ye/ sure hard to
)
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
48
figger
it
we swooned
their old
granddaddies but something clear the
matter with this brood ain't none of em'll
let
an old hero
damn
achin arse or play a lay clean through and the
rest his
sedge swarmin
with them buggers by damn! blessed flock run sick and meatless
mangerotted and
their hides
froth in the tired old teats
all
and
burred and briared nothin but sour
spite of all they'll get us they'll get us
makes me plumb sick! them slickers they do mean business damn if they don't! see them jaws? see them eyes? they ain't kiddin and if you don't get em first old furrylegs them steelyglass muckers'll have an end to us so a pox on em you hear ? a pox on em!
There were
the eventual outcome, of course: infallibility
No
early crises, these have been admitted.
was merest Morris versus the
it
of our computers, after
one doubted
all.
Data properly gathered and
applied must sooner or later worst the wily old cock. But, perhaps
due
to
an underestimation of the adversary's perverse
were
early expeditions
can
now
series of
own
were
little
those
vitality,
too often subverted by disorder,
see as undeniable disorder,
more than
a
what we
random
spontaneous incursions of the sort that most suited Morris'
patternless
fluted a
all
and irresponsible
few slim echoes
off
life.
He
just stayed
our City walls, and led
pursuants into one blind valley after another. serious. It ceased
ported forming.
being a mere parlorgame.
New
The
New
downwind, his
panicky
grew
times
flocks
were
re-
pipes were heard, plaintive essays, not to be
compared with Morris' mastery,
to
be sure, but the oldstyle har-
monics was unmistakeable. Rebellion threatened. Dr. Doris Peloris
was given command.
On
a worldwide appearance, Dr. Peloris reassured the citizens
that there
was nothing
to fear. "All possible cause for panic will
eradicated," she affirmed with a
destined for immortality.
studied dissonance
"We
machined
shall
precision, her
words
put an end to idylatry.
upon which our modern
State
is
be
The
painstakingly
structured will not so easily be corrupted."
Through
the tense days that followed, Dr. Peloris and her
MORRIS IN CHAINS handpicked
staff
49
of highly trained urbanologists, high above the
City, pored over the dossiers of previous forays. Polly
systems analysts
made
octal
down
tional program, broke
the data under
new
and symbolic
old software systems and reassembled
and came up with a new standard
descriptors,
programming package
and the other
corrections to the opera-
for the project,
now known
as Project
Sheep
Shape. Boris the Chartchief prepared detailed flowcharts, built three-
dimensional transverse Mercator's projections of the entire parksystem, and
mapped out
doctor agreed there was
Morris' movements, but both he and the
little
go on. "Even nonpattern eventually
to
betrays a secret system," Dr. Peloris explained confidently to present, "but so far that of our subject, tual,
is
which seems
all
largely instinc-
simply not apparent." Nan, her personal aide, working out of
the newly reprocessed data, reduced Morris'
known
personal habits,
the natural objects that seemed to attract him, his
own minimal
needs and the needs of his beasts, manifest psychosexual behavior,
and the
like,
to realtime-based
mathematical formulizations, but
even these computations proved inconclusive. "No, Nan," said the
moment
doctor gravely, pencil gripped in her teeth, "clearly for the the hunt
itself
must go on."
She assembled the expeditionary force into emergency braced them for the
difficult
session,
assignments that lay ahead, spoke
"You laugh. Yet, we are already, let degree corrupted. As much by our own shaky starts
frankly of old temptations.
us
admit, to a
as
by Morris. not yet the
We can nearly admit notes of savagery in our parks, have the wild optimistic call. We might yet be thrilled by
stifled
glimmer of disembodied eyes burning hot
the vision of bathing naiads' bared
mammaries
with furry thighs, by the one-note
we
from the
are not yet freed
ceivable realities. It all,
is
for
they
whom we
them between
who
or of
nutbrown
torsos
of hemlock pipes. In short,
sin of the simple.
children, to speak in the old way,
must be no confusions
calls
in the dark forest, by
must
But
is
it
consider.
our
There
the old legends and con-
oblige us to grub up, once
and
for
the contaminated seed of our unfortunate origins." Enthusiastic
applause. Boris recorded the intensity
on
his
phonometer, wrote out
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
50
the figure for Nan to report in her log. He nodded toward Polly, and both observed with troubled frowns her unmoved placidity, her subtle smile.
"Our
strategy
divided into two parts," Dr. Peloris
is
continued, "the pursuit and the trap.
on the the
which
first,
same time may
The second
of course depends
essentially a fact-finding mission,
is
but which at
complementary function of harassing
serve the
and exhausting the adversary, forcing predictable
pattern-reliance:
the wearier, the unwarier."
Boris and
Nan
spoke to the doctor after the meeting about
"Her mind wanders,"
Polly.
said Boris.
"Her
observed Nan. Dr. Peloris nodded wistfully. Polly
was one of her
favorites.
It
butt's too
plump,"
was well known
"Does she dream of the sweet
that bird,
the bright star?" sighed the doctor. "Well, our interest in her
wanes."
(third national they calls
hankerin
come on
to it
it all
it
but
spite of that
right don't plot
my
it's
clear I've took a
how we
trackin but seems as
often enough: silver poplars
and old old beeches bio win
wisted measures in the green breeze the mingled elms and hazels
and
shadows and a clean brook
westerlies shiftin the flickerin
moonbathin and drownin the
and wanderin
lice in
ivytendrils
for
and
foxglove and colocasia mingled with the laughin acanthus and a
sweet bluegrass bed halffoot spongy
but it
it's
happy enough
here too
damn
damn
if
:
ain't the happiest valley
it's
why make him decamp
he don't he's gettin old that boy
him
near bullwhip
mebbe
happy enough/ and old Rameses he savors ever time to
I
have to
this little
old dell he sure don't cater none to these long ramblins hasty grub-
blame him neither/ besides
bins and don't say as
I
somethin nice well sure
it's
time but ain't
I tell
them
that's
younguns
folks they like
some
this place
tourists here
it's
most of the
ye they ain't bad they don't really bother us none
buggin us and
antisocial type in fact
the
true they's
tickle it
it
em
after all
me
into
I
ain't the
somewhat to pipe for dancin a round or two and their old
pleasures
too don't
you know
it
let
em
no
little
kid ye otherhow/then top of
all
MORRIS IN CHAINS
that
51
why now and
again on lucky days
sion to stick the old staff
a hurried
little
touristhumpin in the copse
heedin yes by damn!
one up:
why
even experiences an occa-
I
mongst the tender herbage
women]
as the poet says:
when
the cops ain't
can't say as old Morris ever passed a
took on everthin short of newborns and old
I've
corses/ well ceptin for one
mebbe but
that there's another story a
tender folklay outa the callow prepubes:
it
was a sunny midday
in
the hot bulge of spring drove the flock into a grove of massy old
oaks dipped
my
taut untufted flesh in the cool runlet nearby reposed
alongside afterward blouse wrapped round
phoebus lap
me
made my first squawky know? seen this
dry
looked up and whaddaya stretched out beside
grabbed on
my
me! well
I
was
just a
breeches showin forth
my
breech lettin old
boggles on a set of reeds here
little
youngun
I
goosegirl just jolted
my shiny white my leatherns I
that lifted a titter outa her/ then snug in
me down
longside her
nice day wasn't it?
and
I said
and
we
so
and she
got to talkin
said yes
it
I
said
was a
sure
it
croup and let
her tug
sure
was a
nice day at that
my em dumb
her geese was mighty pretty and white and she said
sheep they was pretty and white too and just then one of
up on another one and damn swan! sure seems in her eye
up and
if
that didn't set both of us to gigglin /
now to talk back on me down to shade her
it/ she said the
silly
and pulled
I
sun was
efforted a parched kiss
her sweet breath reekin of pogonias broad crescent smile starchy folds of springfrock listin over limbcurves
and heftin
breezes her toes to the sun old ganders circlin as lilywhite fingers fondlin
my
loose leatherns
if
in flushed
in sacred pieties
and grabbin hold
like of
a she-goat's milkswoln udder her eyes glittery brown beckonin
and
me
composin
mad
poetries in the
back of
my
me
agitated skull
nervous unbuttoned the flowered bodice whitebright breasts slud out of shadows
my
tremblin
back! goosebit by free
damn!
lips
bent to the nubbins—foul
and crudded under with some mucusy gop
retch right there in her poor
and backed
taste!
reared
scarred and bloodied one blue pap flappin
off her pulled
silly
on
my
face
togs
it
like to
did! /clutched
and
all
made me my mouth
the time the
little
goosegirl just lay rigid by the runlet bruised boobies to the breeze
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
52
and grinnin juniper!
would
as they
mad
that
switched
I
as
my
mad
widetoothed moonshapcd grin jumpin
surprised flock
paradin around her in that solemn ye
I
could
mile away well
I
make till
that there grove fast
circle
the next by
god mountain cut I
them geese
and you know
out the unsubtle arc of her big
never been back there
ain't
up outa
scat just left that goosegirl alyin there
off
let
me
tell
mounded
belly a
my
damn!
view!
can certain ye that but
I
done
who knows ? mebbe even worse yeah mebbe —oh-oh! hey you know Rameses it looks like we just might have to move on damn if it don't! just seen that there little plumpbodied some things
since well
scout of theirs don't look at still
got
up behind
me and
knob
there! they'll be
like that old trouper! tain't
we?
night ain't
all
god's delight
that
ain't it
my
on us by
ah!
fault! and look
the third national! well
we
odd number's
so?)
Dr. Peloris drew up a detailed
set of assignments, instructed the
team on basic methodology. But before the expedition could get under way, an unforeseen incident occurred Polly disappeared. :
cursed, Boris shook his old shaggy head.
We
the search.
canals in the
bed of
came
"Poll
entire
day was
lost in
one of the park
Third National, her plump white body splayed out in a
plastic nasturtiums, eyes
flushed red
An
across her at last alongside
Nan
glazed over, simpering smile on her
lips.
on the sward," clucked Nan, and macrofilmed the
"Morris ?" demanded Dr. Peloris of the
scene.
girl.
"Morris was not here." Polly's slow uneven voice reached us
from a hollow echoing ment!
distance.
"No. Not him." Rugged announce-
A man knelt, blessed himself in the blood of the wound.
"Morris!" cried the doctor paling, but by then the
man had
disappeared.
A
gloomy uneasy
entirely unexpected
silence settled over the group.
by most. Dr. Peloris probed the
This had been girl,
then dic-
tated a field report to her aide, detailed the apparent causes effects.
"And, oh, Nan," the doctor concluded
and
in a clear voice that
MORRIS IN CHAINS reached us
broke the
53
We laughed heartily, stood
service. Cheerfully, posts. It
with a cygnet ring." Her everready humor
all: "seal it
spell.
we
eager and ready to be of
received our equipment, motored to our
was the beginning of the end
for old Morris.
Meanwhile, the bearded sheepherder popped up in one park after another.
we
He
eluded us
less
frequently now.
Upon
sighting him,
recorded his behavior for approximately four hours, then
an intentional appearance slow, grazed
all
him
to set
The
trotting again.
made
sheep were
too leisurely, slept, drank, bred, shat across the green
spaces of our public places,
Morris have made
it
nubbing the
last
The
without them?
of the old
question
hills. is
Could
academic.
Morris included them, they him, his speed was describable only by theirs.
(as if I ain't
havin troubles enough old Rameses stages him an
insurrection the sonuvabitch! I
was multiplicatin past
wheres they was draggin it
to the old tup
in for his old
all
me down I
do?
and docked the old ram but no
shouldn'ta done
it!
didn't
I
reason and
I
buddy Morris ever
wanna do had
it
to halt
but the it
some-
to a near standstill: tried to
but he wouldn't
diddle he did so what could lads
it
cropped his marbles and hell
since
stock
explain
had
listen
had
to get his daily
roasted a coupla the younger
I I
shouldn'ta done
old Rameses! whatever got into
me?
it
by damn!
if I
just
had
down and think! if you're gonna eunuch em you gotta do it young by damn/ so that did it he sets about to right the score and so this here afternoon we make the hard trek up into the big hills find us a green knob and settle us down for a breather we're stag-
time to
sit
gerin sick from runnin and climbin just too much! had to leave a
poor old ewe behind on accounta she was just too slow from carryin I left
now
her with no one to care for her
damn near made me cry/ but down in the plain the flock
then the sun was lowerin peaceful
grubbin the good mountain clover and
me
ram outa my pack my cup
snowy white milk and
thing you
know
frothin with
with a big slab of roast first
I'm noddin off dreamin of the old country the
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
54
and
slender maids little
soft halfforgotten lays
me
spread out with a fancy
and never yet
phyllis of just fourteen
mown
wakes of a sudden one of the old Rameses'
girls
just
when
I
me in the midmost of the motherin flock me in the face with her wet nose and old
finds
not far off/ can't see plain at
just a fingernail
my
ear
nudgin
bells clangin
and moon
and I'm
my
creepin in her kirtle with her pantin fast and tonguin
but yes! they're buttin
me
first
down
sun
towards the old
mind on the old country and can't arrange the landscape straight for a moment: but then it hits me! the precipice! them goddamn ewes is nosin me towards the precipice! oboy I try like hell to haul my feet under me but them bitches just ram!
knock wool
got
still
me down
fuddled
again can't hardly see nothing only just their white
rollin spooklike in the
moonlight
blocked out by the nightdark and
I
their hooves
and black
keep hearin them
faces
bells like
a
tinny dirge gettin nearer and nearer jumpin juniper! a goner by
my heart's poundin and I'm mebbe even screamin my god I catch a clear horrifical glim of the edge:
god! and
and
then oh
pale
vision of the plains
ground edgin aside
way down below/ old Rameses to
grant
me
furious grab out at the old gruff but all
the ewes ain't pushin directly
he's slowly givin
space to slip off and
now
I
get
is
his
damn
the old bellwether
but they're fumblin around clumsy and confused and
go any minute
—but suddenly quicklike
mother and send her cliff:
fly in
and janglin
I
clap the bells
more me
clutchin at last
hoof/ and then
finally
it's
collapse grabbin for breath
Rameses
I
I
can see the old
ram and
I
I
bells
movin
know
on
I
aside
gotta
the nearest
and over the
can't hear the bell
to
I
and
no
old Rameses' hind
stagger over by the rocks
his troops cut to ribbons
in retreat to the nearby copse can't sleep
mornin
you
and hangin on over and
is
off to the right
half the flock follows her over before
away and
all
droops
night myself but by
have found our truce what's :
left
to trouble us won't be neither of us)
Data streamed
Only
daily into Dr. Doris Peloris' skyhigh headquarters.
rarely did Morris escape
our network of observers now, and
"
MORRIS IN CHAINS then but card,
His
briefly.
film,
55
tape.
least
event was recorded on notepad, punch-
Observers reported his noises, odors, motions,
choices, acquisitions, excretions, emissions, irritations, dreams.
His
longest disappearance lasted only three days: at the end of that time,
some dead sheep were discovered the mountains, so-called,
less
up in The report was
in a ravine, Morris located
than an hour
later.
rushed to Dr. Peloris, high above the City. "Little matter," the doctor replied, smiling
from her machines. Instructions
down
warmly, turning
"We have him now."
were given
to wait for a
out of the mountains. Dr. Peloris
few hours, then harass him
moved Expedition Head-
quarters to a skillfully concealed bivouac area within the Third
National Park. There, she prepared the reception for the old shepherd.
"You
now
see,
Nan," she explained
certain that Morris will
camp
to her aide that evening, "it
is
here in this valley, beside this
canal and that grove, within five days.
The
order of his disorder, as
exposed by Boris' charts and the processed data, forces him to do so
no matter what operations
his
mind might undertake
arrive at
what he would tend
course,
included the foreknowledge that
it
who knows?
we
await
tion not so critical, lit
job easier,
I
might enjoy the experiment."
Nan. Please request
no overcast
and
if
skies. If this
to
the situa-
Nan
smiled
make our
necessary, create small is
captured there
order conflicts seriously with some
other department, you are at liberty to alter
under no
And
suffice
that the water in the canal be gen-
obstructions that break the surface. Until Morris
only, but
here.
Were
the doctor's cigarette. "Certain precautions will
erated with slightly increased velocity,
are to be
him
perhaps even this knowledge would not
break the power of pattern over mere mind-activity.
faintly,
in order to
to think of as a decision. Unless, of
it
to pertain to nights
circumstances are there to be clouds
from mid-
night until about one hour after dawn."
"Temperature, Doctor ?
"About normal."
seventyfive
degrees,
humidity
slighdy
higher
than
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
56
Is there any other—?" "Once the adversary has entered the
"Yes, Doctor.
target area, see to
it
extreme caution, of course, for our prey on his guard. at sunset,
Make up
can
a public
be overdone and put
easily
crickets should be turned
but only one by one, reaching
At met
bit.
looked up,
six,
we
about
full strength
announcement about the same time,
the park exits a
Nan
this
The mechanical
that
Take
fragrances of pine, myrtle, and hyacinth are emitted faindy.
on
five a.m.
in order to clog
close in."
They nodded,
the doctor's gray-eyed gaze.
smiled knowingly at each other. Six.
(so by
damn whaddaya know? brought
out a brandnew
this
evenin just as old phoeb was rollin in for the night
soft
goldreddish glow to the occasion the
too
her
:
first
—how
is it
little
ewe
they mother so sweet the
—but damn!
little
him
just a
youngun
time ?
first
lamb
lendin a
the
it's
knew that! known it for ages just forgot it I guess forgettin ever damn thing forgettin all the old songs too I am/mind wearying down with all this cussed pasturehoppin that's it! we just ain't made for it are we Rameses? gettin old you are Morris by damn if you ain't! well of course I still pain and fright in
got a
little
jism
guess
it I
left
my
in
jumpers
I
I
up
ain't givin it
yet
but I'm sure as hell on the peterin off side of the old time
it
wastes
must be
all
things and ain't
a million stars
once well hell
I
up
there!
know
why
ain't
I
just didn't
em up
know
heard crickets
give up that easy
I
I feel
matter
somehow
my
—no:
bones
I
when you
ye
lifearc yes yes
to countin
listen at
was
do but
them
just
crickets!
a boy! got the idea I
guess they don't
just shouldn'ta it
them
thought they was
guess nothin does and leastly you and
disaster in
tell
you imagine?
buggers but
Rameses? /well you know old wether we here
I
there can
like that since I little
I set
ideas
silly
nothin/hey!
somewheres they'd extincted the
can
so! /sure is pretty here tonight
you know
was young and had
always the same number of didn't
it
I
seems
like
it
figger they 'da got us
me
eh
come back don't really
one place
as
MORRIS IN CHAINS
57
another you might just as well go out grubbin the green herbs as
gaggin on garbage in the
you reckon ?/and hey!
alleys don't
smell that spring old eunuch! just listen at
makes
a body
them bawdy
just
crickets!
wanna pipe one of the old songs!) Her hairs was black as silver snails Her teeth was white as gold The copse were green as nightingales The runlet fresh as mold The runlet fresh as mold Her Her
ears they twinkled merrily
eyes hearked
How lovely If
only
If
only
life,
all I
sang
said
I,
would be
we was dead we was dead
She quite agreed and plunged her knife Into
my
bleeding breast
Sweet maid, you've given me new Pray, let me have the rest Pray, let me have the rest
Once her I laid
I laid,
twice her
life
I laid
her three times o'er
So though she died a virgin maid
We buried her a whore We buried her a whore Now if my tune obscure should seem The meaning Consider
less
overlong
than
life
a
dream
And more than death a song And more than death a song
Dawn
broke at
and beech,
5:55. Beside the water, alongside a
grove of poplar
lay the shepherd with his flock, facing the eastern sky.
At
"
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
58
Dr. Doris Peloris and her
precisely 6:00 a.m.,
shepherd.
He
staff
emerged from
advanced from different directions upon the
their concealments,
started up, then discovered the thickening
crowds of
eager-eyed tourists welling up behind the doctor and her team: he offered
no
resistance.
"You have been herding sheep," "That
The
figures, lady.
the doctor said.
I'm a shepherd."
doctor's aide snorted: "Fruitless syllogism of eclogic!"
Dr. Peloris smiled.
"Now,
"My black bag, Nan."
look here, ma'am,
"Any," corrected Dr.
I
don't
Peloris.
—
mean no
She drew a stethoscope and other
equipment from her black bag. "Remove your
clothes."
"My-?" "Let's not be impertinent! This is
for you.
do you
refer to those
I
them?
call
is
no
less difficult for
me
than
rank fulsome skins you're wearing,
gaskins, buskins
—
I
don't care, but get
it
how them
off!"
Morris glared edgily at his captors, at the pressing crowd. Dr. Peloris pulled a pair of scissors
removed
his jerkin
from her bag. Morris grumbled,
and breeches.
There were low whistles and the
"What "The
.
is it, .
.
doctor's aide gasped audibly.
Nan?"
the legs, doctor! the
fur—\"
Dr. Peloris smiled, hooked the stethoscope in her
thought you knew," she
While cally
ears.
"I
said.
the doctor conducted her examination, her staff methodi-
exterminated the sheep with hypodermic injections.
died quickly and,
it
The
beasts
seemed, with a certain satisfaction. Morris,
nude, had grown impassive. Only the death of his lead ram seemed to affect him.
A
single tear formed, slid
doctor's aide noted
it
in her
The examination
itself
down
his
tawny cheek. The
examination record. did not take long: eyes, ears, nose, throat,
heart, lungs, arterial pressure, routine check for hernia
and
piles,
palpation of the prostate, various vital measurements. X-rays, blood
MORRIS IN CHAINS
samples,
"Now,
59
and encephalograms were taken, analyzed on the
spot.
a sample of your semen, please," said the doctor turning her
back, replacing the stethoscope in her black bag.
Morris, barbarian and cold-eyed, did not move.
"Nan!"
said the doctor,
nodding back over her shoulder toward
the captive.
Her some
aide slipped a rubber glove
another
Nan
closer.
on over her
left
hand, squeezed
made one last desperate lunge, but Boris and grabbed him, held him rigid. The crowd of tourists bulged
oil into
it.
Morris
approached him, executed three or four expert move-
ments. Morris' bronzed and bearded face flushed yet darker, his eyes
widened and teeth.
lost focus, his
Nan handed
mouth seemed
grow
to
full of thick
the test tube to the doctor. Dr. Peloris
made
a
hasty smear, peered into the field microscope. "2-A!" she exclaimed
with a
soft appreciative whistle.
Morris
now
lay
"Not bad
for a
man of his
age!"
limp in the arms of the two men. His cheeks
sagged indifferently. Defiance was over. Victory was ours! Dr. Peloris turned toward Morris, smiled gently. "There a place for you in our world," she said.
enough
to
"You
are
warrant an attempted rehabilitation.
recommend you. Perhaps begin with.
I
a job at one of our
is still
more than healthy
am
in a position to
mutton
factories to
Would you be interested?"
Morris stared numbly
at
the doctor.
He
closed his mouth.
Slowly, deliberately, sullenly, he shook his head.
"Put him in chains," the doctor ordered. She closed up her black bag, strode away, to the cheers of the gathered throng.
This, then, concludes our report. Dr. Doris Peloris has received highest State honors, yet that she cannot be
which
is
it is
of course recognized by
rewarded enough.
May
all
beyond our humble means! Though he remains
Morris' story
may
urbanologists
and a famous
He
in chains,
has been turned over to the
urbaniatrist has taken a personal inter-
They admit that Morris their young sciences, but
est in his case.
precedent to
not be ended.
citizens
history grant her that
is
a challenge serious beyond
reintegration does not
seem
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
60
entirely
beyond
might be the
possibility.
We
may
well, in concert,
wish that such
case!
(Doris Peloris the chorus and Morris sonorous canorous Horace scores Boris
—should be able to make somethin outa that by juniper
then there's bore us and whore us and up the old torus no not so
good not
so
good
free!)
I
am
to ye for?
it's
losin the old touch
why'd they go and do that
by
damn/a^ hi Ramesesl
the motherin insane are
THE GINGERBREAD HOUSE A pine forest in the midafternoon. Two children follow an old man, dropping breadcrumbs, singing nursery tunes. Dense earthy greens seep into the darkening distance, flecked and streaked with filtered sunlight. Spots of red, violet, pale blue, gold, burnt orange. carries a basket for gathering flowers.
crumbs. Their song
tells
The boy
is
The
girl
occupied with the
of God's care for litde ones.
2 Poverty and resignation weigh on the old man. His cloth jacket
is
61
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS patched and threadbare, sunbleached white over the shoulders, worn
through on the elbows. His
White
dust.
seem
to pull
The
girl
stares
hair.
lift,
but shuffle through the
him earthward.
plucks a flower.
impatiendy into the
to crouch.
do not
feet
Parched skin. Secret forces of despair and guilt
The
girl's
The boy watches forest's depths,
apron
curiously.
The
old
man
where night seems already
a bright orange, the gay color of
is
and is stitched happily with blues and reds and greens; but her dress is simple and brown, tattered at the hem, and her feet are bare. Birds accompany the children in their singing
freshly picked tangerines,
and
butterflies decorate the forest spaces.
The
boy's gesture
letting a
crumb
fall.
is
furtive.
His face
eyes remain watchfully fixed
man
is
His right hand
trails
behind him,
half-turned toward his hand, but his
on
the old man's feet ahead.
The
old
wears heavy mud-spattered shoes, high-topped and leather-
thonged. Like the old man's
own
skin, the shoes are dry
and furrowed with wrinkles. The ragged
at the cuffs, his jacket a
and cracked
boy's pants are a bluish-brown,
faded red. He, like the
girl,
is
barefoot.
The
May baskets and gingerbread own fleas. Perhaps they sing to
children sing nursery songs about
houses and a saint
who
ate his
THE GINGERBREAD HOUSE lighten their
young
63
puce wisps of dusk
hearts, for
the trunks and branches of the thickening forest.
More
sing to conceal the boy's subterfuge.
reason at
all,
a thoughtless childish habit.
admire their memories. Or silence.
The
through
coil
Or perhaps
Or
hear themselves.
to entertain the old
they
they sing for no
man.
To
fill
to
the
Conceal their thoughts. Their expectations.
boy's
hand and
faded red cuff
is
wrist, thrusting
not a cuff at
ragged edge of the
The
childish.
small.
To
likely,
now
soft
fingers are short
jacket (the
but the torn limits merely, the
all,
worn
from the outgrown
sleeve), are tanned, a
and plump, the palm
little
soft,
soiled,
the wrist
Three fingers curl under, holding back crumbs, kneading
them, coaxing them into position, while the index finger and thumb flick
them
moment,
sparingly,
before letting
The
one by one,
to the
them
half-shrouded by heavy upper
Deep
creases fan out
lids
damply
is
and beetled over by shaggy white
straight ahead, but at
invisible destination.
Some
in deep dark pouches,
from the moist
past the nose, score the tanned cheeks
man's gaze
as if for luck or pleasure,
go.
old man's pale blue eyes float
brows.
ground, playing with them a
them
balling them, pinching
corners, angle
down
and pinch the mouth. The old
what? Perhaps
at nothing.
irrecoverable point of departure.
Some One
thing can be said about the eyes: they are tired. Whether they have seen too
much or
too
little,
they betray no will to see yet more.
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
64
8
The witch face
is
wrapped
is
drawn and
in a tortured whirl of black rags.
and her eyes glow
livid,
way and
angular body twists this flecks of blue
burning
like
Her long Her
coals.
that, flapping the black rags
and amethyst wink and
flash in the black tangle.
Her
gnarled blue hands snatch greedily at space, shred her clothes, claw cruelly at her face
and
She cackles
throat.
screeches madly, seizes a passing dove,
The
girl,
then suddenly
tears its heart out.
younger than the boy, skips blithely down the
her blonde curls flowing freely.
but her apron tattered
and
silently,
is
Her brown
dress
is
forest path,
coarse
and
plain,
gay and white petticoats wink from beneath the
hem. Her skin
is
and pink and
fresh
soft,
elbows dimpled, her cheeks rosy. Her young gaze
her knees and
flicks airily
from
flower to flower, bird to bird, tree to tree, from the boy to the old
man, from the green seems
grass to the encroaching darkness,
to delight her equally.
she even
know
leading them ?
the boy
is
Her
basket
is
full to
and
dropping crumbs ? or where the old
Of course, but it's
all
of
it
overflowing. Does
man
is
nothing! a game!
10
There
is, in the forest, even now, a sunny place, with mintdrop trees and cotton candy bushes, an air as fresh and heady as lemonade.
Rivulets of honey flow over
gumdrop
pebbles,
and lollypops grow
THE GINGERBREAD HOUSE wild as
daisies.
This
come here, but, they
is
65
the place of the gingerbread house. Children
say,
none leave.
11
The dove
is
a soft lustrous white, head high, breast
than a feather's thickness off the ground.
tail less
filled, tip
From
of the
above,
it
—
would be seen against the pale path a mixture of umbers and grays and the sharp brown strokes of pine needles but from its own
—
pure whiteness
level, in profile, its
set off
is
glowingly against the
obscure mallows and distant moss greens of the forest. Only small beak moves.
Around
its
a bread crumb.
12
The song
is
sings alone.
about a great king
The
dispassionately furtive, stares
mouth
old
now
man
who won many
battles,
has turned back, gazes curiously but
at the boy.
The
boy, too, has turned, no longer
hand poised but no crumb dropping from
back
down
the path by
his fingertips.
He
which they three have come, his
agape, his eyes startled. His
moment
but the girl
left
hand
is
raised, as if arrested
a
before striking out in protest. Doves are eating his bread
crumbs. His ruse has such matters after
failed.
all,
has
Perhaps the old man, not so ignorant in
known
all
along
it
would.
The
girl sings
of pretty things sold in the market.
13
So huddled over her prey
is
the witch that she seems nothing
more
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
66
than a pile of black rags heaped on a post. Her pale long-nailed
hands are curled inward toward her
her head lower than her hunched shoulders, in
among
massaging the
breast,
wan beaked
object,
nose poked
the resdess fingers. She pauses, cackling softly, peers
then right, then
The burnished
the heart before her eyes.
lifts
left,
heart
of the dove glitters like a ruby, a polished cherry, a brilliant, heart-
shaped bloodstone.
It beats still.
A
soft radiant pulsing.
bony shoulders of the witch quake with
glee,
The
black
with greed, with
lust.
14
A
wild blur of fluttering white: the dove's wings flapping! Hands
clutch
its
body,
fingers. Its
down
head,
its
wings
flail
its
throat, small
hands with short plump
against the dusky forest green, but
umber earth. The boy bloodied by beak and claws. against the
falls
upon
it,
it is
forced
his
hands
15
The gingerbread house
is
approached by flagstones of variegated
wafers, through a garden of candied fruits
neat
little
and
all-day suckers in
rows.
16
No
song
now from
basket of flowers struggles with the
is
the lips of the
girl,
but a cry ot anguish.
dropped, the kings and
boy for the
bird.
saints forgotten.
She kicks him,
falls
The She
upon him,
THE GINGERBREAD HOUSE
67
pulls his hair, tears at his red jacket.
trying to elbow free of the
and
of anger heart.
girl.
He
huddles around the bird,
Both children are weeping, the boy
frustration, the girl of pain
Their legs entangle, their
and
and a bruised
pity
beat at each other, feathers
fists
fly.
17
The
man
pale blue eyes of the old
squint, the sorrow, the
The deep
creases fanning out
a brief wince, as though at
some old wisdom.
stare not ahead,
but down.
tedium are vanished; the eyes focus
The
clearly.
from the damp corners pinch inward,
some inner
hurt,
some
certain anguish,
He sighs.
18
The
girl
has captured the bird.
in the path
The
boy, small chest heaving, kneels
watching her, the anger largely drained out of him. His
faded red jacket
is
torn; his pants are full of dust
She has thrust the dove protectively beneath her apart, leaning over lifts
it,
weeping
her bright orange apron, her
away.
The dove
is
softly. skirt,
The
old
and pine
skirt,
and
man
her petticoats.
nested in her small round thighs.
needles.
knees
sits,
stoops
down,
The boy
It is
turns
dead.
19
Shadows have lengthened. Umbers and lavenders and greens have grayed. But the body of the dove glows yet in the gathering dusk.
The
whiteness of the ruffled breast seems to be fighting back against
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
68
strewn with flowers,
the threat of night. It
is
The old man,
and the
the boy,
girl
now
beginning to wilt
have gone.
20
The beams
of the gingerbread house are licorice sticks, cemented
with
weatherboarded with gingerbread, and coated with
taffy,
caramel.
Peppermint-stick
chocolate roof and
its
house! and the best thing of
from
chimneys sprout randomly
windows
are laced with meringue.
all is
its
Oh, what a
the door.
21
The
forest
dense and deep. Branches reach forth like arms.
is
animals scurry.
The boy makes no
furtive gestures.
The
Brown
girl, carry-
ing her flowerbasket, does not skip or sing. They walk, arms linked, eyes wide open
and staring ahead
into the forest.
The
old
man
plods
on, leading the way, his heavy old leather-thonged shoes shuffling in the
damp
dust and undergrowth.
22
The
old man's eyes, pale in the sunlight,
late twilight.
light of day.
Perhaps
The
it is
now seem
their wetness picking
squint has returned, but
weariness: resistance, rather. His
it
mouth opens
to rebuke, but his teeth are clenched.
The
to glitter in the
up the is
last flickering
not the squint of
as
though
to speak,
witch twists and quivers,
her black rags whirling, whipping, flapping.
From
her lean bosom,
THE GINGERBREAD HOUSE
69
she withdraws the pulsing red heart of a dove. rages,
Lust
how
it
The
dances in the dusk!
flattens his
face
reflections of the
and mists
old
How it glows, how
man now
his old eyes,
does not
where
it
resist.
glitter
now
ruby heart. Grimacing, he plummets forward,
covering the cackling witch, crashing through brambles that tear at his clothes.
23
A wild
screech cleaves the silence of the dusky forest. Birds start
from branches and the undergrowth mals.
The
old
man
stops short,
is
up
with frightened ani-
one hand raised protectively in front
of him, the other, as though part of the to shield his children.
alive
Dropping
same
instinct,
reaching back
her basket of flowers, the girl cries
out in terror and springs forward into the old man's arms. blanches, shivers as though a cold
The boy
wind might be wetly wrapping
young body, but manfully holds his ground. Shapes seem to and coil, and vapors seep up from the forest floor. The girl whimpers and the old man holds her close. his
twist
24
The old man himself has made them. room is in shadows, the children tucked safely in. The old man tells them a story about a good fairy who granted a poor man three wishes. The wishes, he knows, were
The beds The sun
are simple but solid. is
setting, the
wasted, but so then
about the good
fairy,
is
the story.
how
He
lengthens the tale with details
sweet and kind and pretty she
the children complete the story with their
own
is,
then
wishes, their
demand is being forced upon him. must the goodness of all wishes come to nothing? dreams. Below, a brutal
lets
own
Why
PRICKSONGS U DESCANTS
70
25
The
flowerbasket
flowers strewn.
overturned, by the forest path,
lies,
its
wilting
Shadows darker than dried blood spread beneath
gaping mouth. The shadows are long, for night
is
its
falling.
26
The
man
old
help pull
him
girl. It is as
dies
has fallen into the brambles. free.
He
sits
though he
is
on the
The
unable to
face
is
boy and
recognize them. Their weeping
away. They huddle more closely together,
man. His
children, weeping,
forest path staring at the
scratched, his clothes torn.
stare
He
is
back
at the old
breathing irregu-
larly.
27
The
sun, the songs, the breadcrumbs, the dove, the overturned
basket, the long passage
have
all
the
branches.
good
The
fairies
toward night where, the old :
gone ?
He
man
wonders,
leads the way, pushing back the
children follow, silent and frightened.
28
The boy pales and his heart pounds, but manfully he holds ground. The witch writhes, her black rags fluttering, licking at
his
the
THE GINGERBREAD HOUSE twisted branches.
With
71
a soft seductive cackle, she holds before
the burnished cherry-red heart of a dove. steps back.
The boy
licks his lips.
him She
The glowing heart pulses gently, evenly, excitingly.
29
The good fairy has sparkling blue eyes and golden hair, a soft sweet mouth and gentle hands that caress and soothe. Gossamer wings sprout from her smooth back; from her flawless chest two firm breasts with tips bright as rubies.
30
The
witch, holding the flaming pulsing heart out to the boy, steps
back into the dark Back. Swollen eyes
The
forest.
aglitter, the
boy, in hesitation, follows. Back.
witch draws the ruby heart close to
her dark lean breast, then past her shoulder and away from the boy.
The
witch's gnarled
and
bluish fingers claw at his poor garments, his pale red jacket
and
Transfixed, he follows
it,
brushing by her.
bluish-brown pants, surprising his soft young
flesh.
31
The
old man's shoulders are
bowed earthward,
his face
is
lined with
sorrow, his neck bent forward with resignation, but his eyes glow like
burning
coals.
He
clutches his shredded shirt to his throat,
stares intensely at the boy.
The boy
stands alone and trembling
on
the path, staring into the forest's terrible darkness. Shapes whisper
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
72
and
coil.
The boy
licks his lips, steps
shreds the forest hush.
The
old
man
forward.
A
terrible shriek
grimaces, pushes the whimper-
ing girl away, strikes the boy.
32
No
more breadcrumbs, no more
The
slap echoes
through the
pebbles,
no more songs or
terrible forest, doubles
echoes, folding finally into a
flowers.
back on
its
sound not unlike a whispering
own
cackle.
33
The
girl,
shielding
weeping, kisses the struck boy and presses him
him from
the tormented old
aback, reaches out uncertainly, gendy touches the der.
She shakes
the boy.
The face.
his
The boy
hand
close,
man. The old man, taken girl's frail
shoul-
—nearly a shudder—and shrinks toward
off
squares his shoulders, color returning to his face.
familiar creases of age
and despair crinkle again the old man's
His pale blue eyes mist over.
He
looks away.
He
leaves the
children by the last light of day.
34 But the door! The door
is
shaped like a heart and
cherry, always half-open, whether
lit
is
as red as a
by sun or moon,
than a sugarplum, more enchanting than a peppermint
is
sweeter
stick. It is
red as a poppy, red as an apple, red as a strawberry, red as a bloodstone, red as a rose.
house!
Oh, what a thing
is
the door of that
THE GINGERBREAD HOUSE
73
35
The
children, alone in the strange black forest, huddle wretchedly
under a great gnarled
tree.
Owls hoot and
bats flick menacingly
through the twisting branches. Strange shapes writhe and before their weary eyes.
They hold each
rustle
other tight and, trembling,
sing lullabyes, but they are not reassured.
36
The
old
man
trudges heavily out of the black forest. His
way
is
marked, not by breadcrumbs, but by dead doves, ghostly white in the
empty night.
37
The girl prepares a mattress of leaves and flowers and pineneedles. The boy gathers branches to cover them, to hide them, to protect them. They make pillows of their poor garments. Bats screech as they work and owls blink down on their bodies, ghostly white, young, trembling. They creep under the branches, disappearing into the darkness.
38 Gloomily, the old
man
sits
in the dark
room and
stares at the
empty
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
74
beds.
The good
fairy,
though a mystery of the night,
surroundings with a lustrous radiance.
Is it
the natural
small nimble body or perhaps the star at the tip of her
can
effuses her
glow of her
wand ?
Who
Her gossamer wings flutter rapidly, and she floats, rubybreasts downward, legs dangling and dimpled knees bent
tell?
tipped
slightly,
glowing buttocks arched up
good she
is!
in defiance of the night.
In the black empty room, the old
up a wish: he wishes
man
How
and uses
sighs
poor children well.
his
39
The
children are nearing the gingerbread house. Passing under
mintdrop
trees, sticking their fingers in
sampling the
heady
air as
the cotton candy bushes,
lemonade, they skip along singing
as
nursery songs. Nonsense songs about dappled horses and the slaying of dragons. Counting songs
of honey
on gumdrop
and
idle riddles.
They
cross over rivulets
pebbles, picking the lollypops that
grow
as
wild as daffodils.
40
The witch
flicks
and
flutters
through the blackened
face twisted with hatred, her inscrutable condition. like
glowing coals and her black rags
hands claw greedily
flap
forest,
her livid
Her eyes burn Her gnarled
loosely.
at the branches, tangle in the night's
webs, dig
into tree trunks until the sap flows beneath her nails. Below, the boy
and
girl
sleep
an exhausted
dimpled knee and blanket of branches.
soft
sleep.
round
One
ghostly white leg, with
thigh, thrusts out
from under the
THE GINGERBREAD HOUSE
75
41
But wish again! Flowers and
Dense earthy greens
butterflies.
seep-
ing into the distance, flecked and streaked with midafternoon
Two
sunlight.
The
crumbs, sing nursery songs. gesture
is
man. They drop bread-
children following an old
furtive.
The
old
—but
girl
man
it's
no
walks leadenly.
The
use, the doves will
boy's
come
no reasonable wishes.
again, there are
42
The
children approach the gingerbread house through a garden of
candied fruits and all-day suckers, hopping along on flagstones of variegated wafers.
with kiss
its
They sample
the gingerbread weatherboarding
caramel coating, lick at the meringue on the windowsills,
each other's sweetened
lips.
The boy
climbs up on the chocolate
roof to break off a peppermint-stick chimney, comes sliding into a rainbarrel full of vanilla pudding.
him
The
girl,
down
reaching out to
on a sugarplum and tumbles into a sticky rock garden of candied chestnuts. Laughing gaily, they lick each other clean. And how grand is the red-and- white striped chimney catch
in his
the boy holds
fall, slips
up
for her!
how
bright!
here they pause and catch their breath. stone-red,
thing
is
pulsing
its
how
It is
sweet! But the door:
heart-shaped and blood-
burnished surface gleaming in the sunlight. Oh, what a
that door! Shining like a ruby, like hard cherry candy, softly, radiantly.
beyond: what
is
that
and
Yes, marvelous! delicious! insuperable! but
sound of black rags flapping?
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS Dedicatoria y Prdlogo a don Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra Quisiera yo,
si
fuera posible {maestro apreciadisimo) , excusarme de
escribir este prdlogo, not
merely because the temerity of addressing
you with such familiarity and attaching your eminence prentice fictions el
is
mat que han de
certain
decir de
but also because here
to these ap-
—and quite rightly—to bring on my head
we
mi mas de
cuatro sotiles y almidonados,
are in the middle of a
book where pro-
logues seem inappropriate. But just as your novelas were "exemplary," in the simplest sense, because they represented the different
writing ideas you were working with from the 1580's to 1612, so do these seven stories
76
—along
with the three "Sentient Lens"
fictions
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
volume
also included in this
up
commencement
to the
and
later exposure,
I felt
77
—represent about everything my
of
hope in ascribing
to
se
my
because "si bien lo miras, no hay
tales,
pueda sacar un ejemplo provechoso," and fictions the
from your purposes, which
same property,
una mesa de
nuestra republica
dano de
I
I
haven't strayed
take to be manifold. For they are
I
ejemplares, too, because your intention
entretenerse sin
invented
I
novel in 1962 able to bear this
their presence here invited interpolations.
Ejemplares you called your
ninguna de quien no
first
trucos,
was "poner en
plaza de
la
donde cada uno pueda
llegar a
Digo, sin dano del alma ni del
barras.
cuerpo, porque los ejercicios honestos y agradables antes aprovechan
que dahan" Roberto
S.
—splendid,
experience which
We need in
all
is
our mutual friend don
for as
necessary to our imaginative well-being
the imagination
good condition"
—and
responsibility to that
vocation: they
And
don Miguel!
has told us, fiction "must provide us with an imaginative
yet there
is
have, and
we need
exercised
.
.
.
and
thus your novelas stand as exemplars of
and they
stories
more,
tell
them
this
well.
read you righdy. For your stories also
if I
exemplified the dual nature of
all
good narrative
art: they struggled
against the unconscious mythic residue in
human
synthesize
forth
the
it
most solemn and pious charge placed upon
good
tell
we
unsynthesizable,
sallied
life
and sought
to
adolescent
against
and returned home with new complexities. In fact, your creation of a synthesis between poetic analogy and literal history (not to mention reality and illuthought-modes and exhausted
sion, sanity
and the
and madness, the
scatological)
art forms,
erotic
and the ludicrous, the visionary
—perhaps above
gave birth to the Novel
your works were exemplars of a revolution in narrative
—not unlike the way abused by the conventions of the Romance— to
revolution self
all else
fiction, a
you found your-
which governs us
this very day.
Never mind whether table Italian
who
it
was Erasmus or
caused your
artist's
Aristotle or that forget-
—not
eye to focus
Values and Beauty—but on Character, Actions of
and Exemplary
Histories,
dawning, and such a
shift
for
was
it
was
in the air.
Men
on Eternal in Society,
the
new Age
No
longer was the City of
of
Science
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
78
Man
image of the City of God, a microcosmic
a pale
the macrocosm, but rather
macrocosm, yet
at the
was
same time
what man's mind, through for you, Maestro,
it
full of potential, all the
Science,
was opening up;
the
New World
could no longer be described
it
in a
compact and marvelously
taking a cue from Lazarillo and
adventurers, became a process of discovery, and to
day young authors
this
fiction,
promise of
might accomplish. The universe
by magical numbers or be contained designed sphere. Narrative
reflection of
there was, neither micro- nor
all
sally forth in fiction like majestic
divinely ordained \—pharos to discover, again
and again,
—indeed, man-
their
hood. But, don Miguel, the optimism, the innocence, the aura of possibility
universe
you experienced have been closing in
is
largely drained away,
on us again. Like you, we,
too,
and the
seem
to
standing at the end of one age and on the threshold of another.
have been brought into a blind
too,
alley
by the
and
critics
be
We,
analysts;
we, too, suffer from a "literature of exhaustion," though ironically our nonheros are no longer hopelessly defeated
own
We
seem
to
have
anthropocentric, humanistic, natural-
—to the extent that man may be thought of universe—optimistic starting point, to one that
even
mic, eternal, supernatural (in
The
and tiresome Amadises, but
and bed-ridden Quixotes.
moved from an open-ended, istic,
tireless
its
soberest sense),
as
making
is
closed, cos-
and
pessimistic.
his
return to Being has returned us to Design, to microcosmic
images of the macrocosm, to the creation of Beauty within the confines of cosmic or
human
necessity, to the use of the fabulous to
probe beyond the phenomenological, beyond appearances, beyond
randomly perceived are above tions of a tion,
all
events,
beyond mere
—like your Knight's
sallies
history.
But these probes
—challenges to
the assump-
dying age, exemplary adventures of the Poetic Imagina-
high-minded journeys toward the
New World
and never mind
that the nag's a pile of bones.
You
teach us, Maestro, by example, that great narratives remain
meaningful through time as a language-medium between generations, as a
weapon
against the fringe-areas of our consciousness,
and
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS as
79
The
a mythic reinforcement of our tenuous grip on reality. familiar mythic or historical forms to
novelist uses
combat the
content of those forms and to conduct the reader {lector amantisimol) to the real,
from magic above
to the
all
forms able
away from mystification to clarification, away away from mystery to revelation. And it is
to maturity,
need for
new modes
encompass them that
to
address these stories.
If
I,
of perception and fictional barber's basin
prolix foreword, please consider them, in turn,
mere preface
on
my
head,
they seem slight for such a burden as this
to all that here flowers
about
don Miguel,
as a
this little book-within-a-
book, to the other works that have already preceded them in print,
and
to all that is yet to
como you al
las
to
come. "Mucho prometo con juerzas tan pocas
mias; pero £quien pondra rienda a los deseos?"
remark que pues yo he tenido osadia de :
I
only beg
dirigir estas ficciones
gran Cervantes, algun misterio tienen escondido, que
las levanta.
Vale.
1
Situation: television panel
Panel
Game
game,
live audience.
Stage strobelit and
cameras insecting about. Moderator, bag shape corseted and black suited,
behind desk/ rostrum, blinking mockmodestly
lamps, practiced -pucker on his soft
at lens
mouth and brows arched
in
and mild
goodguy astonishment. Opposite him, the panel: Aged Clown, Lovely Lady, and Mr. America, fat as the continent and bald as an eagle.
now
There
is
filled, to
protesting
an empty chair between Lady and Mr. A, which the delighted squeals of
all,
from the Audience, nondescript introduced
Participant, or
more
simply,
Bad
is
by a spectator dragged
Sport. Audience:
as
Unwilling
same
as ever,
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
80
And
docile, responsive, good-natured, terrifying.
ask,
who
he?
is
fool!
"Welcome!"
thou
greets the
the Audience, cued to ingly: "to
You
the
Bad
Sport,
you
art!
merry Moderator, arms flung wide, and
Thunderous Response, responds thunder-
the big question!"
(who
squirm, viced by Lady
(who does
not, but bless
misread: Lovely Lady
him
mouth
through a straw, and, seemingly
you) and America
the same), but your squirms are
all
lashes, crosses eyes,
lifts
excitedly through puckered
Moderator
excites
as
at the
and draws breath
though sucking milkshakes other end of the straw, the
ingests: "Tsk, tsk!" and, gently reproving, waggles his
dewlaps. Audience howls happily the while and
who
can blame
them ? You, Sport, resign yourself to pass the test in peace and salute them with a timid smile, squirm no more. A moment then of calm, but Aged Clown spoils it, quips in an old croak: "Very bad
comma Sport!"
Audience roars again. Cameras swing, bend, spring forward, recoil.
Lights boil up, dim, pivot, strike.
"Reminds me of the old
Clown cackles. Howls and finger to soft
lips.
chants.
story of the three-spined stickleback!"
Moderator
No, no! Winks
at
reacts
with flushed giggle and
Audience.
Mr. America nudges you and mutters under the "Detail! Detail!
Game's
built
on
it,
don't miss it!"
others' noise:
A
friend, after
all.
So think. Stickleback. Freshwater
fish.
Freshwater
fish:
green
seaman. Seaman: semen. Yes, but green: raw? spoiled? vigorous? Stickle: stubble.
berry.
Raw
Or maybe
scruple.
Back: Bach: Bacchus: baccate:
berry? Strawberry? Maybe. Sticky berry in the raw? In
the raw: bare. Bare berry: beriberi. Also bearberry, the
dog
dogberry. Dogberry: the constable, yes, right, the constable in
rose, .
.
.
what? Comedy of Errors! Yes! No. "And so this here boy stickleback he shimmies up to the girl stickleback and she displays him her crimson belly. Hoo boy! That does it! Zam! They scoot down to his pad!"
?
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
81
Hooting and howling. Moderator
Lamps
collapses into easy laughter.
Lovely Lady shyly reveals
pulse.
belly.
Not crimson
at
all,
but creamy with a blush of salmon pink. Shouts and whistles. Hooboys and zams. Salmon: semen. There
we
are again. Stickle: tickle.
Belly: bag. Lovely one, too. "I
do
believe," chuckles the
"Too
late,
Moderator
loosely,
"we might begin."
bub!" croaks Clown. "Sport's done commenced!"
Horselaughs and
catcalls.
You
forgo any further search for clues
in Lovely's navel, shrink before the noise, before the jut of lenses, strike of strobes
Eyes of the World.
:
On you, Sport.
"Think!" whispers America. "She Scoot: scute.
and pad
is
But what:
She reveals!"
reveals!
scales? shield?
bone or horn? Scut
paw: an animal! Yes! But crimson: why not
—but
Because crimson comes from kermes: insect
male
pad
Shimmy:
insect bodies!
female
stuff:
is
is tail
just red?
more! dried
fe-
chemise, or a shimmer of light. But
bellies dried
and stuffed? Dry den-stuffed.
It's
—a poem here, that's obvious. And some animal. Light. And Dogberry from— possible. Stickle
A hush
.
:
stick
:
stich
.
.
"Are you ready?" demands the Moderator, and the Audience replies:
"We are!"
Ready: red-dy. Red bone. Green semen. Naval: navel. Salmon pink.
"Then
am
let
Rounded
us proceed!"
—that
quite reasonably certain
"I believe—may
i
is,"
syllables, dried
and
stuffed. "I
Moderator coughs and
titters,
have that privilege?"
"Yes! Yes!" cries the Audience.
"Of course he may," whispers Mr. America. "He only
asks out
of malice."
"Yes," sighs the Moderator, solemnizing, "for reasonable certainty
is
but the repercussion and ritornelle of belief!"
Vigorous applause, reverently paced.
"Huzzah!" hoots Aged Clown and the be
fat
man
nods. It could
so.
"Therefore,
if
you
will allow
me,
I
believe" the Moderator
"
"
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
82
what
continues, "with
an almost categorical certitude
constitutes
—
till his voice cracks like a young boy's, " extracting a jubilant Aaahl" and easy laughter like a loose cough
swooping upwards on "-tude"
from the
spectators,
"
—
I
beg your pardon!"
Gentle approving laughter.
ain't
"And so you should, son!" the old Clown cracks. Laughter. "That nice!" Larger laughter. "You keep it clean now!" Gross
laughter.
"Hint! Hint!" wheezes
fat
America.
Clean. Immaculate. Virgin. Verges. Aha! the headborough with
—
Dogberry in
hmmm, belly.
The Merry Wives! No. Verges:
?
Dogberry pink.
Steal a glance
though. Eyes of the World. Keep
it
:
still
there. Nice,
"That's better, son."
"Thank "Not cepts
it,
—
laughter and applause.
you."
at all, bub."
—That
More
Don't touch
immaculate.
"Believe, then, as a certifiable category
"
verger: verdure:
back to green again. Green scutes: greenhorns. Immaculate
all
of
Clown grimaces. Laughter.
you on our panel are well apprized of the
and procedures of our
little
—our wonderfully delightful
prelittle
game."
From
the masses packed beyond the lights: an explosion of
cheering, an enthusiasm clearly insisting against demurrals, but you say: "I'm not."
Hush. Hostile maybe. Moderator, into the
silence, as
though disbelieving:
"I
beg your
pardon?" "Sport ain't!" hollers the
"Sport
isn't,"
Moderator
"That's what
I
said,
he
Clown and you jump. corrects. ain't!" responds
Aged Clown. Crash
of
Nothing serious. All a joke. "The one who has the most money wins," mutters Mr. America under his breath, which is coming heavier now. Excitement? Not likely. Growth. Yes, expanding still, the old lard, some accretion
laughter.
process turned
on
early
and the
safety valve plugged, cells piling up,
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
and
rapidly, for your
83
own rump
skidding perceptibly under pres-
is
sure along the bench toward the Lady. She
self-absorbed,
is
powder-
ing her nose and her bosom, using a camera lens for a mirror. Eyes of the
World white globes and :
She turns,
pupils pink as raspberries.
bodice, smiles at you. "Isn't
lifts
what?" she
asks,
cooing. "Isn't got it!" quips the old
Does he have
his old gnarled
ence: the usual response.
mapped with help.
They
showman on between her love him.
the other side of her.
From
legs ?
the Audi-
Shrunken and yellowed,
wrinkles, quaking with palsy, white-haired and brown-
remnant from the Great Tradition. But not
toothed, Clown's a
much
fist
On
the contrary.
"Got what?" pursues Lovely Lady. "Come on, boys! You're
me! Hasn't got what?"
teasing
"My brows
dear
.
.
lifted in
.!"
pleads the Moderator, giggling softly but with
tender supplication.
Whoops and
whistles
from the
Audience.
"Oh,
really!" laughs
something
I
Lady
sweetly.
"You can
tell
me!
Is
it
can wear?"
"You're warm!" crows Clown mid the laughter and whacks her behind.
"Mind on your
business!" whispers America,
now
in possession
of at least half the whole bench, his eyes lost in puffing fleshfolds,
suitseams parting, buttons popping. "Here
"Would
I
wear
it,
more
likely,
it
comes!"
above the waist," Lady asks, then
reddens and lowers lashes, "or below?"
"Depends on your
scruples!"
Clown squawks and
the
crowd
roars.
Hah!
^Scruple: stickle: stickleback. Getting
warm now. Warm
indeed flush against the Lovely Lady. Are those her toes under your :
jump
pantleg? Don't
to conclusions. Couldn't put
Clown, for example, not Big
A
groans
trotters, flesh
if
there
faintly,
pushing out
bear. Bearberry
:
was
a laugh in
past the old
snorting and sucking like a team of as the suit tears.
Dogberry the dog :
it
it.
rose.
Wear and
Paw and
tail.
tear.
Wear:
But what of
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
84
The dog
the scute?
rows:
and
rose
—what?
Going in long now. Own
stickleback.
stichs:
America. Can't
last
bane pink. "Depends
—
Rose and scrupled? Rose:
"Depends
circles.
cells
—
!"
gasps
against him. Flesh dog-
!"
Depends: hangs. But what hangs or hangs on what?
Old Clown hunches, trembling uncontrollably over knotted
Humor.
knuckles.
Lady
:
beauty, excitement,
America: hard
The
maybe, or
Ah,
Sport?
Odd
all
clearly,
and
passion, sobriety,
depend, they
depend. They
silence.
You
his ringed fingers
truth. all
your mind they're
it's
On
hang.
It
you, then,
may
be
it
on the rostrum and
after.
depends, they
so.
drumming
look up to discover the Moderator
moment's come! They want
yes, the
justice. Inclusion.
team.
And Bad Humor,
life itself.
to guess. Prestige
staring blankly at you. Yes, to
know! Cameras plunge,
withdraw. Lamps blaze. You, pinned, sweat. Chilled by America's enveloping blubber, heated by the Lady pink as salmon. Pink rose.
As dogberry.
Still,
All's
dog
as
Well That Ends Well? Hardly.
you
in the silence, or so
tell
yourself, so
it
seems an aura of :
hope. Moderator relaxed, smiling kindly. Lifts brows in calm anticipation.
Audience suppressed
Will you do
to a patient
murmur. Will he do
it?
Fat man, perishing, balloons and snorts. Lovely
it?
Lady watches, admires. Encourages. They need you. You take strength from their need, and clear your throat.
"Oh, come, come!" exclaims the Moderator. "Reckon you not old refrain?
To
replicate
is
Applause and cheers greet
and
smiles.
But what does
but to repent and
it
mutinous and the mutable inscrutable!" ing to the ibly
moment now,
same and the
lost is less recalled!"
his eloquence, accepting
mean? what does cries
this
which he preens
mean? "Muteness is the Moderator, warmit
riding on waves of grand hosannas. "Inflex-
lex of the
game!"
Nothing, nothing there
Wary. Tarry. Salmonberry.
at
all.
Think
back.
Faster! Sticklestuff
Wear and
and Dryden's
tear.
belly.
"
"
!
?
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
Crowd Green
roars.
—
as
Moderator stands Faster!
?
85
to
—
bow. Crimson semen green
Could she wear
it?
Bear
it?
Bare
it!
as
That's
it!
—
Keep it going! Keep it "Too !" gasps Mr. America, blind and flaccid, nearly faceless, and he has no breath to finish, yet his mouth gapes, struggling. You speak: "I think—
—
"Admirable!" smiles the Moderator grimly, bringing caustic laughter from the Audience. "So what?" "
—That,
if
the subject
animal
is
—
Unexpected crash of laughter. Lady blushes, lowers
lashes.
Moderator, crimson with giggling and with tears in his eyes,
"Good God!
I
should hate to conceive of
it
otherwise!"
cries:
Whoop!
goes the Audience, louder than ever, and even the cameras twitch spasmodically.
"Keep it clean, son!" "But—!" "I said,
\eep
it
cackles the
Aged Clown.
clean!"
Immaculate butt? Incredible! "
—Late!" concludes the fat man, releases wind, and
Only friend challenge
now and
sir!"
it
up!
is,"
the Moderator,
The
truth
is:
contrived some
"The
Deafening applause.
truth is—"
him with an
here" the Moderator explodes, losing
to
the purse of perspicacity!" is
"You must have
but
lost!"
you would be wise
"Reason
much amused,
shouts the Moderator, jabbing at
not to endeavor to disentangle
Sport,
The
haven't even—!"
"Why are you "if
relief either.
from the incontrovertible commentary qua
angry finger, "you have I
but no
just so conspicuously constituted!"
Dig in! Tie "The truth "But
cries
pressing forward.
concrete conjunctions
commentary
loss felt,
Dead.
same one.
the
"Come, come, rising
No
in the house.
is still
dies.
the
resin,
this
all
patience,
entanglement? In short, Bad
remember that the saga of sagacity is Wild applause, cheers, hoots, screams.
the college of knowledge!" Uncontrollable
—
"
"
"
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
86
uproar. Moderator rips off bowtie and flings
like a rose to the
it
You have
stamping shrieking crowd. Lamps flame up. "Failed! failed!
And you must pay the consequences!"
"But the truth is—"
"The truth is," crows the old Clown and leaps upon the Lovely Lady takes his quaking claw and hops up to join him:
table;
—
"There once was a young bellydancer
Lady
chemise as Audience whistles and heaves coins to
strips to half
the stage.
Somewhere
a brass
band plays Eastern music. With her
thumbs, she pushes the chemise bare
it,
bright as berries,
to half-mast
and the old dog rose
.
on her .
hips.
Wear
it:
.
"Who supposed that her art was the answer— Above Female
or below? Waist: waste. Scruples, pink as salmon. Crimson. belly, darts
and
thrusts
.
.
.
"But one night in a bump, She fractured her rump
—
Lovely Lady halts abrupdy, knees bent out, twitching navel aimed at you
bump, about
:
Eye of the World
the table, eyes
—then staggers, thus in mid-
wide and mouth puckered,
drops— bam!
vulsive delight of the entire world, then scute to the table
"
.
.
And perished grotesquely
ossifies, legs
"Yes, the truth able,
wiping
his eyes
to the con-
—
stiff
as a
.
Audience paroxysms reach new frenzies throes and
like a spastic,
up toward
is,"
of cancer!"
as
Lady
vibrates in last
the lenses.
gasps the guffawing Moderator
with a linen cloth:
when
he's
—
""
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
87
"Don't twiddle or piddle Or diddle your middle While riding a riddle, old Sport
—
Lovely Lady miraculously revives, and with a wink of the Eye of
Laughs crash and thunder.
the World, lures you to the tabletop.
Whistles, catcalls, hostile hoots.
The
man, you
Cameras crouch, pounce,
was not Mr. America Amentia. Should have known. Changes everything tract.
fat
see,
"
For the frame
is
the
after .
.
all,
jab, re-
but Mr.
.
same
In fame or in shame
And the name of the game—
Clown and Lady all
depends
.
.
grip an
arm
apiece.
A
noose descends
—
yes, yes, it
.
"—is La Mortl" "I
thought—" But the Audience drowns you
happy, think about
The noose
that.
out. Well, they are
is fitted.
— ?" asks the Moderator and the crowd subsides.
"You thought "I
thought
"That
it
to
is
was
all
for fun."
say," smiles the
Moderator wearily, "much ado
about nothing." "That's
it!
that's it!
The Moderator
Yes! that's what
He
surfeit of
knowledge. Nods gravely it
rests his chins in his
At heart, a tough old boy. pudgy fist, smile informed by a at Clown and Lady.
clean, son!" rattles the old
humoredly with
was trying to—!"
shakes his head.
"Sorry."
"Keep
I
his elbow.
Well of
Clown, jabbing you good-
laughter.
Always the
laughter.
A second constant. Noose
is
scratchy. Tickles your throat. Swallow. Can't swallow.
Lovely Lady's scented breath
is
in your ear. "Don't be
gone
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
88
long, darling," she coos
and dispatches you with a parting goose.
Whoop! Off you go! The dog rose and there depended Lamps expand whap! burst into crimson flares
.
.
.
Eyes of the
So long, Sport. o
o
o
The Mar\cr Of
the seven people (Jason, his wife, the police
officer,
and the
officer's
four assistants), only Jason and his wife are in the room.
Jason
sitting in
is
an armchair with a book in
has doubtless been reading, although
About
get ready for bed.
Jason: he
now
is tall
he
his is
hand, a book he
watching
with strong calloused hands and a sensitive nose; he
And
with his wife.
she: she
is
Nude now, into a drawer,
up
bed, picking
she
a
chest of drawers.
ever
meaning
itself
and not
At the
last,
then
rolls
Jason's jacket
comb from
the floor
if
we were
might be
in her
and has a to hear her
the room, folding a sweater
which he had
where
it
had
motion
exists
tossed
fallen
She moves neither pretentiously nor
there
35,
deeply in love
on the
from the
shyly.
What-
within the motion
in her deliberations.
she folds back the blankets of the bed (which
room from
fresh sheets
moves lighdy about
hanging up
is
beautiful, affectionate,
and charming manner of speaking, speak. She seems always at ease. direct
his wife
and masculine, about
is
across
Jason), fluffs her short blonde hair, crawls onto the
on her hands and knees, pokes gently
down on
at the pillows,
her back, hands under her head, gazing across
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
room
the
at Jason.
89
She watches him, with the same apparent delight
up
in least motions, as he again picks
and
inserts a
book on the
He
table.
his book, finds his place in
stands, returns her gaze for almost a
and then does
ute without smiling, his
He
marker.
removes
same time placing
smile, at the
hooking
his clothes,
it,
min-
his trousers
over the back of the armchair and tossing the other things on the seat cushion. Before extinguishing the light
behind his
chair,
he
room at his wife once more, her tanned body gay rhythm of soft lines on the large white canvas of the
glances across the
and
relaxed, a
bed. She smiles, in subtle recognition perhaps of the pleasure he finds
He
in her.
snaps out the light.
moment
In the darkness, Jason pauses a
The image
in front of the armchair.
of his wife, as he has just seen her, fades slowly (as
when, lying on a beach, one looks curving back of the
sea,
of the reflected sun lose
at the reflection of the
sun on the
then shuts tight his eyes, letting the image its
brilliance,
turn green, then evaporate
slowly into the limbo of uncertain associations), gradually becoming
transformed from that of her nude body crackling the freshness of the laundered sheets to that of Beauty, indistinct
though
still
and untextured,
as
emerging from some profound ochre mist, but though
without definition, an abstract Beauty that contains somehow his wife's ravaging smile
walks steadily toward in the dark.
he
startled
is
into
When
.
.
.
and musical it,
his right
eyes. Jason,
hand
in front of
He up
facing the bed,
him
to feel for
it
he has reached the spot where he expects the bed,
not to find
what? the
it.
He
retraces his steps,
chest of drawers! Reoriented
of drawers, he sets out again and, after wall.
still
starts to call
some
and stumbles
now
by the chest
distance, touches a
out to his wife, but hears her laugh suddenly:
some kind
of joke, he says to himself with a half-smile.
she
is
He
walks boldly toward the laugh, only to find himself—quite by
to
surprise—back at the armchair!
He
fumbles for the lamp and snaps
the switch, but the light does not turn on. several times, but the
lamp
definitely does not
He
snaps the switch
work. She has pulled
the plug, he says to himself, but without really believing
it,
could not imagine any reason she would have for doing
since he so.
Once
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
90
again, he positions himself in front of the armchair
room toward
crosses the
walk
and although almost expecting something of the
dently, less
and
the bed. This time, however, he does not
alarmed when he arrives
at,
not the bed, but a door.
confi-
sort,
He
no
is
gropes
along the wall, past a radiator and a wastebasket, until he reaches a
He
corner.
starts
out along the second wall, working methodically
now, but does not take more than gentle laugh right in his ear. just
five steps
when he
hears his wife's
turns around and finds the bed
.
Although
.
in the strange search he has lost his appetite for the
sound of her happy laugh and
at the
it
the dark, of her cool thighs. In fact, the experience, the
feel, in
anxiety of
it
and
its
seems
riddles,
to
have created a
new
urgency, an
almost brutal wish to swallow, for a moment, reason and inadequacies, and to
He
.
behind him!
love act, he quickly regains
the
He
gives
let
passion, noble or not, have
way
wonders
to his this
if
possibility,
he
determined penetration. In a is
misgivings as absurd.
her to kiss her, and as he does
so, notices a
hungry way. relaxed and
moment
of alarm, he
but since there
really his wife,
rejects his
its
itself is
surprised to find her dry, but the entry
is
its
He
is
no
leans
alternate
down
over
strange and disagreeable
odor.
At
this
moment, the
lights
his four assistants burst into the
"Really!" cries the police
come on and
the police officer
and
room.
officer,
pulling up short. "This
is
quite
disgusting!"
Jason looks
down and
him, but that she staring
up
is
Her
it
is
him, without meaning, but bulging as though in
ears.
splayed out over the pillow like a urinal
There
indeed his wife beneath
eyes are open, but glazed over,
him.
toward her
teeth.
finds that
rotting.
The flesh on her face is yellowish and drawn back Her mouth is open in a strangely cruel smile and can see that her gums have dried and pulled back from her Her lips are black and her blonde hair, now long and tangled,
terror of
Jason
at
is
is
a fuzzy stuff like
mold around
mop
spread out to dry.
the nipples of her
shrunken
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
91
breasts. Jason tries desperately to get free
his deepest horror that
"This
woman
he
from her body, but
finds to
stuck!
is
has been dead for three weeks," says the
officer in
genuine revulsion. Jason strikes wildly against the thighs in his effort to free himself, jolts one leg off the bed so that
dangles there, disjointed
it
on the wooden him forcibly away from the corpse of his dead wife. The body follows him punishingly in movement for a moment, as a sheet of paper will follow a comb after the comb has been run through hair; then, freed by its own weight, it falls back in a pile on the badly soiled sheets. The four
and swinging, the long yellow
The
floor.
men in
four assistants seize Jason and wrench
carry Jason to the table
it.
toenails scratching
They hold him up
where
book
his
still lies
pounds them
He
to a
leaves Jason writhing
on the
assistants.
I
qua
that all
you
floor
mean
hands with those
join
evil,
its
who
march
out,
to
at all costs. I
me, that there
own
are justified in their I believe,
then, that
is
"Now
still
sake.
not, in the
On
am
it
the other
of terrible necessity
personally convinced,
a middle road,
whereon we
soil in traditions,
law and custom are
and
essential,
which
but that
it is
revise them. In spite of that,
ma\e me pu\e!" He
turns, flushed, to his
get rid of that judging corpse!" he screams.
After wiping his pink
and turns
am
do not recognize
turn by the innovations which created
one's constant task to review
however, some things four assistants.
own
I
find inherent in tradition
and who therefore deem
custom be rooted out will permit
his nose
and turns
to say that I
recognize that innovations find their best
them.
and
the door he hesitates, then turns
tradition as sanctified in
do not
some malignant
if
At
of course," he says, "that
strictest sense, a traditionalist. I
tradition
tabletop
A flicker of compassion crosses his face.
"You understand,
hand,
marker
police officer,
on the
flat
its
pulp with the butt of his gun.
along with his four
back to Jason.
and the
against the table
without ceremony, pulls Jason's genitals out
with
his
brow with
a handkerchief, he puts
back on the bed as the
men
it
to
drag away, by the
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
92
body of
the unhinged
feet,
on the pick
up. There
it
through
it
with one hand, the other
hastily
curiosity,
and although
it is
book
of the
on
The
if it is
it.
He
to
flips
holding the hand-
still
wears an expression of
his face
know
difficult to
to the floor beside Jason.
and walks out
officer notices the
a slight spattering of blood
is
kerchief to his nose,
mild
The
Jason's wife.
book Jason has been reading, and walks over
table, the
sincere.
officer replaces the
The marker
book on the
falls
table
room.
"The marker!" Jason gasps desperately, but does not hear him, nor does he want to.
the police officer
The Brother damn
right there right there in the middle of the
wants I
to
"how
says
just focuses
when he
the hell
me
you gonna get
to
would
I
since
was born and
why you
down
to the
my
as
my
him
help
I
can get
it
for
you
need plowin
it's
to say yes I says I will of
brother
God knows and you a
is
I've
done it
bad enough year already wingin around
next? you're a
little else
out ain't
I
can't
never
got enough to do here
my God
and now damn cloud and damn boat in the
like a
not knowin what in the world he's doin buildin a
my God what
says not to
God's sake and
wife she says "I can't figure
that red-eyed brother of yours
country
water?" but he
always have to be babyin that old fool he for
me
done in time otherwise and
be loonier than him
always would crazy
course
fields
just
know how he
though you'd have
done nothin
it
on some new lunatic notion and he
worry none about that
see
he says he
out sweepin the blue his eyes rollin like they do
gets het
because he don't
I
field
put that thing together him and his buggy ideas and so
damn
fool
I
tell
you" but
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
me some
packs
my
brother
more
says
93
sandwiches just the same and some sandwiches for
Lord knows
his wife don't
he can go starve for
the time he
made
her
sit
have no truck with him no
out on a hillside for three
and everything because he
up ever since whole days rain
she cares she's fed
all
said she'd see
God and
she didn't see
nothin and in fact she like to die from hunger nothin but berries
and
his boys too they ain't so bright neither
but at
least
come
they
to
damn boat so it ain't just the two of us thank God for that and it ain't no goddamn fishin boat he wants to put up neither in fact it's the biggest damn thing I ever heard of and for weeks wee\s I'm tellin you we ain't doin nothin but cuttin down
help
him out with
his
pine trees and haulin them out to his field which
is
really pretty
my God that's work lemme tell you and my wife she sighs and says I am really crazy r-e-a-l-l~y crazy and her four months with a child and tryin to do my work and hers too and still
high up a
when
come home from haulin timbers around
I
enough
and
hill
left to
rub
my
shoulders and the small of
day
all
my
she's
back and
got
fix
a
hot meal her long black hair pulled to a knot behind her head and
hangin marvelously
my God
and
I
down
says to
do buddy
you'll
you
can you
my
have to
know
her back her eyes gentle but very tired brother
I
work to wanna help
says "look I got a lotta
finish this idiot thing yourself
I
and he looks off and he says "it work" and I says "the hell it don't how you think me and my wife we're gonna eat I mean where do you think this food comes from you been puttin away man? you can't eat this goddamn boat out here ready to rot in that bastard sun" and he just sighs long and says "no it just don't matter" and he sits him all I
that but"
don't matter none your
down on
a rock kinda tired like
and
might even for God's sake cry and so to
him and
how
he's already started
on
he ever found out to build a
stares off
I
the keel
damn
boat
and looks
like
he
wood up knows God and frame
go back
to bringin
lost in his
fog where he
Lord he was twenty when I was born and the first thing I remember was havin to lead him around so he didn't get kicked by a damn mule him who couldn't never do nothin in a normal way is
just a
huge oversize fuzzyface boy
so
anyway
I
take to gettin
up
a
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
94
few hours baby
day
earlier ever
to
do
work on
the boat until
my
dry and
farmin
my
"you come and help
now
hundred people and
and
my
now
least
it's
no good
says
good
will
for
it
and
of
me
gettin herself
to
and
it
and
a place to live
my
wife she
and runs her hands no more
to stop helpin
all
keep
just
big enough for a
is
it's
brother he says
and we
somethin but
won't do no good and
these days
my
it
thing
come
hair but she don't ask
knows
because she
damn
at least I think at least
not too bad at that at
through
the
go
I
the days hot
or else I'd of dropped sure
the rest don't matter"
hammerin away and my God
just sighs
me
say to try and get out of
I
wife apt to lose the
was doin then
sundown and on and on
wife keepin good food in
and no matter what
herself
my
she should keep pullin around like she
if
she's
kinda turned into
ready and
still
we keep
workin on that damn thing that damn boat and the days pass and
my
brother he says
and from time
to
we
gotta
ain't
got
much
time
time he gets a coupla neighbors to come over and
hand them sucked
give a
work harder we
by the
in
and the novelty
size
of the thing
makin jokes some but they don't stay around more than a day or two and they go away shakin their heads and swearin under their breath and disgusted they got weaseled into the thing in the place
and
stock as
me
finally
cover
it
I
much
can but at
we in
only get about half as I
least
get
can
my
my
place planted
and
see to
first
my
wife she takes more care of them than
I
we won't starve we say if we just get some rain and the damn thing done all finished by God and we
and out with pitch and put
a
kinda fancy roof on
it
and
I
come home on that last day and I ain't never goin back ain't never gonna let him talk me into nothin again and I'm all smellin of tar and my wife she cries and cries and I says to her not to worry no more I'll be home all the time and me I'm cryin a little too though she don't notice just thinkin how she's had it so lonely and hard and all
and
for
rest of the
and
I
one whole day
week
go over
to
I
I
just sleep the
work around
my
over and whaddaya
the
brother's place
know?
there in the middle of
whole damn day and the
farm and one day
and
they are
get
all
nowhere him and
some
livin
on
his boys
I
get an idea
pieces of
that
wood
left
damn boat women
and some
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS and
my
95
madder than hell and come home and he says she's got just one more day and then he's gonna drug her on the boat but he don't say it like a threat or nothin more like a fact a plain fact tomorrow he's gonna drug her on the boat well I ain't one to get mixed up in domestic quarrels God knows so I grab up the wood and beat it back to my farm and that evenin I make a little brother's wife she's there too but she's
him
carpin at
to get
damn
outa that
cradle a kinda fancy one with
down and
polished
and she
cries
and
after
cries
and warm about
it all
a
little
give
I
and holds
stay close
animal figures cut in
little
supper
away again and
boat and
me
by her and
my
to
it
and
tight
and
all
and glad the boat thing
it
and
wife as a surprise
says don't never
I feel
over
is
wine and we decide the baby's name
is
go
damn good and we get out so
gonna be
either
Anna and so we drink an extra cup to Nathaniel's and we laugh and we sigh and drink one to Anna and my
Nathaniel or health
wife she gently fingers the beautiful
and
animal figures and says they're
little
really they ain't I ain't
know what
but
I
the
wood?" and
says
I
"it's left
moment and
say nothin for a
again today?" and
I
now
thing they're
living in the
he's
at that sorta
over from the boat" and she don't
then she says "you been over there
wood" and
got the boat done?" and
she's over there hollerin at
damn
thing
him how
does he think he's sailin to and
thing
"where did you get
says
says "yes just to get the
"what's he doin all
much good
means and then she
she
how
I
he
"funny
except the old lady
all
he's gettin senile
if
she says
says
ain't afraid of
and where runnin into
on the way he oughta get back home and him sayin she's a nut there ain't no water and her sayin that's what she's been tellin him for six months" and my wife she laughs and it's the happiest a octypuss
laugh
I've
heard from her in half a year and
have another cup of wine and that big thing
there
my
I
don't
my
by hisself?" and
and some young
somethin
damn
all
know
women who I ain't
I
laugh and
we both
wife she says "so he's just livin on I
says
"no
he's got his boys
on
maybe wives of the boys or never seen them before and all kindsa
animals and birds and things
are
I
ain't
never seen the likes" and
wife she says "animals? what animals?" and
I
says
"oh
all
kinds
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
96
I
know a whole damn menagerie all clutterin and stinkin up God what a mess" and my wife laughs again and she's a
don't
the boat
litdc silly
with the wine and she says "I bet he
"oh yes
I
seen them"
around
in that big tub
and
I
says "yes
I
says
I
got no pigs" and
ain't
and we laugh thinkin about pigs rootin
and she
you couldn't hardly hear nothin
them else"
too or mostly
know what he
ain't
got
I
heard them
I
and we laugh again thinkin
about them crows and his old lady and the pigs and she says "/
no jackdaws"
says "I bet he ain't got
seen a couple of
bet he ain't got
all
and
no
lice"
my
wife
and we
when I can I says "oh yes he does less he's we both laugh till we're cryin and we finish of? the wine and my wife says "look now I \now what he ain't got he ain't
both laugh like crazy and took a bath" and
got no termites" and
I
says "you're right
I
don't recollect no termites
maybe we oughta make him a present" and my wife she holds me close quiet all of a sudden and says "he's really movin Nathaniel's really movin" and she puts my hand down on her round belly and the little fella is kickin up a terrific storm and I says kinda anxious "does it hurt? do you think that—?" and "no" she says "it's good" she says and so I says with my hand on her belly "here's to you Nathaniel" and we drain what's left in the bottom of our cups and the next day we wake up in each other's arms and it's rainin and than\ God we say and since it's rainin real good we stay inside and do things around the place and we're happy because the rain has
come and
just in
delicious
time and in the evenin things smell green and fresh
and
it's still
rainin a
but not too hard so
little
I
decide
wander over by my brother's place thinkin I'll ask him if he'd like to take on some pet termites to go with his collection and there by God is his wife on the boat and I don't know if he drug her on or if she just finally come by herself but she ain't to take a
walk and
sayin nothin
which
nothin neither and
I
damn
is
my
unusual and the boys they
brother he ain't sayin nothin they're just
standin up there on top and gazin off and rain ain't it?"
the rain and
funny
like
and still
my
ain't sayin
brother he looks
I
holler
down
he don't say nothin but he
and then puts
it
back on the
rail
at
up
me
at
I
all
"nice
standin there in
raises his
and
them
hand kinda
decide not to say
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
97
nothin about the termites and so
my
happened and
it's
startin to rain a little
home and
turn away and go back
I
I tell
my
harder again
wife about what
wife she just laughs and says "they're
crazy
all
them all crazy" and she's cooked me up a special meat and so we forget about them but by God the next day the rain's still comin down harder than ever and water's beginnin to stand around in places and after a week of rain I can see the crops is pretty well ruined and I'm havin trouble keepin my he's finally got
pastry with fresh
my
and
stock fed
wife she's cryin and talkin about our bad luck that
we might as well of built a damn boat as plant all them crops and still we don't figure things out I mean it just don't come to our minds not even when the rain keeps spillin down like a ocean dumped upsidedown and now water is beginnin to stand around in big pools really big ones and water up to the ankles around the
damn house is gettin we oughta go use my brother's
house and leakin in and pretty soon the whole water and
fulla
boat
till
this
blows over but
starts in cryin
proud see
I'll
keep sayin maybe
I
go ask him" and so
where I'm goin and
get to where the boat
bastard he just looks at
and
where
me and
to
my
holler
I
I
I
can't be so
can hardly
neck in places and
up and
am and
my
finally I
brother he comes
he don't say nothin that
shout up at
him
I
says "hey
is it all
wife to come over until this thing blows over?"
he don't say a
and
I'm askin you
all
talkin he turns
hardly believe
it
him and
me
his brother
him
ever
for his wife
and
call
"GoDdamn you"
I
—"
and
all
wet and cold
name
I
I
can't
but he don't come back out and
beat on
it
to
right then right while I'm
around and he goes back in the boat and
push up under the boat and
and
out in the storm and
about to have a kid and she's apt to get sick
the bone still
at
up I
"we
says to her I says
I set
sillyass
soakin she's
and
wife she says "never" and then she
I
damn word he just raises his hand in that way and I holler "hey you stupid sonuvabitch I'm wet goddamn it and my house is fulla water and my wife
still
same
me and my
I slip
is
down
out and he looks
right for
my
again so finally
with
my
fists
and scream
I
at
I can think up and I shout for his boys anybody inside and nobody comes out cry out at the top of my lungs and half sobbin and
for
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
98
and then
sick
feelin too beat out to
do anythin more
I
turn around
home but the rain is thunderin down like mad now and in places I gotta swim and I can't make it no further and I recollect a hill nearby and I head for it and when I get to it I climb and head back
for
up on top of it and it feels good to be on land again even if it is soggy and greasy and I vomit and retch there awhile and move further up and the next thing I know I'm wakin up the rain still in my face and the water halfway up the hill toward me and I look out and I can see my brother's boat is floatin and I wave at it but I don't see nobody wave back and then I quick look out towards my own place and all I can see is the top of it and of a sudden I'm scared scared about my wife and I go tearin for the house swimmin most all the way and cryin and shoutin and the rain still comin down like crazy and so now well now I'm back here on the hill again what little
there
is left
of
it
and I'm figurin maybe
I
got a day
left if
the
show no signs of stoppin and I can't see my brother's boat no more gone just water how how did he know? that bastard and yet I gotta hand it to him it's not hard to see who's crazy around here I can't see my house no more I just left rain keeps
my
comin and
wife inside where
her the
way
she
it
I
don't
found her
I
couldn't hardly stand to look at
was
In a Train Station
At
9:27 Alfred purchases a ticket
from the Stationmaster
for the
10:18 Express Train to Winchester.
Here's Alfred: squat, work-stooped, thick white moustache on his
upper
lip,
pale blue eyes, white hair nearly gone on top, face
neck tanned and leathery, appears
to be
about fifty-two.
He
and
wears
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
99
an unfashionable gray
suit, loose
down, a blue checked
shirt
brown
thick-soled
(gold ring on
on him and stained from the knees
buttoned at the neck without
shoes caked with field
he carries his squarish
it)
mud. In
The
little
and happens
need be said about
He
it.
strange to fifty-one
some
that
minutes
—Alfred
But
It is
is
when
is
it
not on
to return
.
.
not
now
in the
mainly for passengers
from Track
ticket),
2.
will perhaps
it
seem
the train departs for Winchester exactly
—that
Alfred buys his ticket
after
while he
stuffs the ticket
Alfred and the Express Train to be real
nothing of the contract of the
(to say
hand
at his feet.
to be electric. It leaves always at 10:18
Now, assuming both
time
up the small bag
10:18 Express Train to Winchester:
and
station,
bulky
soft-billed cap,
conducts the ticket transaction with his right. into his coat pocket, then picks
tie,
his left
is
to say,
on
it.
.
After obtaining his ticket, pocketing
with that old man's
it
whole-hand-into-the-pocket gesture, and picking up the small bag,
window to a bench over it. The station is
Alfred shuffles heavily a few feet from the ticket
which
faces the gate to
empty except lamps glow
Track 2 and the clock
for Alfred
dully.
A
brightens harshly the Stationmaster's small of
A
and the Stationmaster.
couple ceiling
bare bulb umbrella'd by a green metal shade office.
The
station smells
musty wood. Alfred puts his bag on the bench and
sits,
he
sighs, as
though the mere
sits
down
act of sitting
is
beside
it.
As he
an awful strain on
him. Once seated, he sighs again and gazes straight ahead of him at the Track 2 gate, his cap in his lap.
Behind him, the Stationmaster writes something in a large elongated ledger, and as he does
Track 2
gate. 9:29.
so,
glances
"Nice evenin'," he
"Yep, nice enough
up
at the clock over the
says.
at that," says Alfred.
"May
rain tomorra."
"Low pressure area movin' in, I hear tell." Good for the crops, though," says Alfred. "Been doin' much fishin' lately?" "Yep.
"Nope,
I ain't.
Been too blamed hot for
fishin'."
FK1UK5UNUS & DL5CAN1S
1UU
"What d'ye
catch mostly?"
"Oh, smallmouth. stare at the gate to
Bluegills." All the while, Alfred continues to
Track
slumped and
2, sitting
expressionless, his
cap in his lap.
"Oh, that
do ye ?"
so ? Fish for bluegill,
make good
"Yep," says Alfred. "They're small, but they
"Yep, so they do. Well.
eatin'."
how's the family ?"
And
"Cain't complain. Wife's been a bit poorly, but she's gittin' better,
now
"Oh?
the summer's
come
Ain't been nothin' serious,
"Nope," says Alfred.
"Them's
"Jist
on
on." I
hope."
female troubles."
pretty fine lookin' vittles," the Stationmaster continues,
"Your wife put 'em up
his voice pitched slightly louder.
for ye?"
Alfred fumbles nervously in his bag, produces a greasy brown
From
paper sack.
it,
and a small chicken beside the bag, eaten.
wrapped
leg
and the egg
the knife,
now draws an
he
in his
in
apple, an egg, a jackknife,
wax
He
paper.
puts the apple,
upturned cap, drops the paper sack
and unwraps the chicken.
It
has already been pardy
His hands are trembling. "Yep," he says
faintly. "She's
He hesitates, then bites resolutely into the chicken. a lucky man who's got him a good woman and
good cook." "That's
food and good work," the Stationmaster
The
So
far,
it
he has not veered his gaze from the gate
clock above
though
it
reads 9 133.
He
good
says.
Alfred tears off a bite of chicken leg and chews sently.
one
slowly, abto
stops chewing, opens his
Track
2.
mouth
as
to speak, but does not.
The
Stationmaster looks
After a moment, he says
"And
a
.
.
.,"
:
up
"And
a
him through
at .
.
says Alfred, his
the ticket
window.
."
mouth
still
full of
half-chewed
chicken leg. But his eyes are puzzled and he does not continue.
"And "And
good
a a
.
.
."
good wife!"
cries Alfred.
Both
men
laugh. Alfred re-
turns to his chewing.
"Well,
it
looks like the old 10:18 will be in
says the Stationmaster, returning to his ledger.
on time
tonight,"
— SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS "Good,"
on
101
"Good. Don't wanna
replies Alfred.
He
a Sattiday night."
wax
paper, returns
egg.
The
to the
it
The egg
is
It
still
home
He
sighs.
He stares up
Not
and the
it
cavities
have
has been a long time since the apple has been tried.
He
whole.
reopens the canvas bag on the bench
beside him, peers inside, stuffs the paper sack back into
bag.
late.
paper sack, along with the apple and the
apple has a few bites taken from
turned brown.
git
wraps the leg of chicken in the wrinkled
Then he
sullenly at
it.
notices the jacknife
Then, suddenly,
as
still
it,
closes the
in the cap in his lap.
though
terrified,
he grabs
the knife, reopens the bag, thrusts the knife inside, snaps the bag
shut. Visibly shaken, he
Track 2
back and, staring once more
sits
gate, continues to
chew mechanically on
at the
unswallowed
his
bite of chicken leg.
men
Both
are silent for a while.
closes his ledger, squints
up
The
Stationmaster, finally,
at the clock. 9:42.
"How's
the tomaters
doin' this year?" he asks.
"Aw,
well as kin be expected.
Need
a
lookj" Alfred spins
suddenly around to confront the Stationmaster, his pale blue eyes
damp
though with
as
"Don't ye think maybe
tears.
this
time
I
could—?"
"Need
a
little
.
.,"
.
intones the Stationmaster softly, firmly.
Alfred sighs, turns back toward the gate, works his jaws over the chicken.
"Whole
"Need
a
little
rain,"
area could use
he says glumly.
some
rain," responds the Stationmaster.
Just then, at 9 144, the door of the station bangs
stumbles days'
in.
He
is tall
growth of beard. Khaki
the laces broken and reknotted.
fixed thing.
He
man
hair, a couple
pants, gray undershirt, tennis shoes,
He
introduces with
of stale alcohol, and his eyes, though blue and as
on no
open and a
and thin with uncombed dark
if
him
a large odor
thoughtful, focus
lurches for a bench, misses, smashes
up against
a wall. Leaning there, he breathes deeply, his eyes rolling back. Alfred, his
all
is
watching him. His face has blanched,
hands quaver. The Stationmaster "Beloved!"
self
the while,
cries the intruder,
away from the
wall.
He
is
watching Alfred.
grinning foolishly, heaving him-
weaves.
"The
su'jeck f'my dishcoursh
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
102
is
He
."
.
.
slams back against the wall again, gasping brokenly.
Alfred watches, paralyzed. "The su'jeck ... the su'jeck
]uc\
and the
it!"
man
careens
away from
.
.
aw,
.
the wall, collapses over the
back of the bench nearest him.
who
Alfred glances anxiously at the Stationmaster, serving
him
calmly, back at the
man
still
ob-
folded over the bench, up
back at the man.
at the clock (9:54),
The
tall
is
stranger slowly
with
his head, braces himself half-erect
lifts
hands against the bench, looks toward Alfred, but
blearily, with-
out focus. "Our fazher," he cries out, then sucks the
spittle off his
his
and swallows
lips
heaven
down
.
.
"our fazher whish art
it,
eating hish
is
.
own goddamn
man
appalled at the bench under him, the
vomits
with his hands over his
rolls off to the floor, lies there
heaven
*n
.
.
.
'n
chiVrenl" And, staring all
over
it,
up
at
face.
Alfred, chewing frantically, fumbles with the bag, looks the clock. 10:01.
The man on himself to his his
mouth.
sides.
He
white.
the floor shudders, then with great effort pulls
feet.
He
His eyes
cross
and
vomit drips from
a string of
wipes his mouth, then drops his hands limply to his
twitches as though with unresolved retchings. His face
The
stubble
on
He
his chin glistens.
an uncertain
takes
is
step
toward Alfred, pauses, takes another. Alfred unsnaps the hag. "So help me!" cries the
he
reels,
his eyes
tall
man, focusing
rolling back,
that instant
Alfred drops the bag, reaches out, catches the
him
to his
back on the
swallowed the hands, then
floor.
at his feet.
—then
man
in his
fall,
eases
In the excitement, he has unwittingly
bite of chickenleg.
down
on Alfred
and topples over toward Alfred.
He
His lower
looks guiltily at his
lip is
own
trembling.
"Alfred!" scolds the Stationmaster. "Alfred! Shame, shame!"
There toward the pained
He
cry,
tears
are tears in Alfred's eyes.
He
turns his head
clock, brushes the tears aside. 10:13.
He
upward
utters a short
grabs up the canvas bag, scratches desperately through
out the paper sack, pokes inside
it,
pitches
it
it.
away. Again
he searches through the canvas bag, draws out the jackknife, throws the bag away, crouches over the fallen man. 10:14.
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
103
"Well?" demands the Stationmaster harshly. "Well, Alfred?" Alfred squeezes shut his eyes, takes a long desperate breath.
Opening
He
floor.
man
his eyes again,
is
down
open the knife, grasps the
clicks
sleeping
he drops quickly
fitfully.
Under
parted, his teeth clenched.
A
his
man on the man's hair. The
over the
fallen
white moustache, Alfred's
lips are
whining animal complaint
faint
es-
As though struggling against an unseen hand, knifeblade downward, touches it finally to the man's
capes between them.
he presses the throat, but, "It
with a short anguished
10:16, Alfred,"
is
cry,
withdraws
it.
announces the Stationmaster quietly. Out-
one can indeed hear the 10:18 Express Train
side,
Winchester
to
arriving.
The his
hands
The
knife drops from Alfred's hand.
He
is
crying.
He
presses
to his face.
Stationmaster emerges from his
up the
Alfred, picks
knife.
"Now, watch,
office,
down
kneels
Alfred," he says.
beside
"Watchl"
Alfred peeks through his hands, weeping, whimpering, as the Stationmaster strokes.
The
severs
eyes
the
tall
stranger's
head with three quick
on the head pop open suddenly and the body
jerks
moment. Blood gurgles out of the man's neck, staining Alfred's trousers where he kneels on the floor. Alfred continues to weep beside the long body, which twitches still with small private reflexes of its own, as the Stationmaster carries the head into his office. He returns, lifts the body up on his shoulders, and carries spasmodically for a
it
out the door.
When floor,
The
carcass can be heard
tumbling down
the Stationmaster returns, Alfred
weeping.
The
Stationmaster looks
says 10:18,
and
whistle, then pull away.
The
clock above the gate to
one can hear a train outside sound
down
its
steps.
kneeling on the
is still
Track 2
at Alfred, sighs shortly, shakes his head,
then walks over toward the Track 2 gate. There
which the Stationmaster now
slides
under the
is
clock.
a chair there,
He
the chair, opens the glass that protects the clock dial,
hands around until they read slides
it
back
to
its
9:26.
He
steps
down from
former position, returns to his
studies the clock, shudders, wearily gathers
up
stands
on
moves the the chair,
office.
Alfred
his scattered posses-
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
104
and places them once again
sions
in the canvas bag.
The
Station-
master reopens the ledger. Alfred walks up to the ticket window, his cap in his hand.
Klee Dead Klee, Wilbur Klee, dies.
Is
dead, rather.
I
know
I
know
:
too soon.
It
should come, after a package of hopefully ingenious preparations, at the end: and thus, gentle lector,
But what's
fathers.
to
Wilbur Klee
has,
with customary dispatch, shifted his
fact,
and the
city clerk, public
The
city clerk
just before
file,
toady that he
any meddler's disturbance of things put in
gathered to his
is
be done? He's already gone.
is, is
as they are
lunch in
not one to suffer
and
—as
he would
—must be. Not even for a bribe, certainly not for any kind of
bribe that
I
could
clerk, in short,
human
sops;
is
and
offer,
you
city
a surly sonuvabitch, quite beyond the touch of
so Klee
In some languages, die myself,
The
not even for tickets to the circus.
irretrievably, dead.
is,
it is
possible to say
will die yourself, he
to die oneself, as in
:
:
I
would have died himself, and so own hand was perhaps
on, cunningly planting the idea that one's involved. (Which,
if I
may
would seem
say so in passing,
been the case with Wilbur Klee.) But unluckily these other languages
with it
my
—God knows
insufferable English
would be inconceivable
above
all,
in
which
case
I
my
if I
I
did
should
lively did
it
don't
have
know any
of
wouldn't be bludgeoning you
—and even know them
if I
did
know them
well, conjugations
circumlocutions would only
laugh and forget that the point of the matter
he quite
I
to
is
that
Klee
make you
is
dead and
himself, to hell with friends, family, lovers,
employers, gods, countries, and anyone else
who had
designs
on
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
105
him. Providing he was in fact encumbered with any of these, and
who on this earth
can doubt that he was?
Yet, contrarily, old Millicent
hand or any Well,
on
can't
I
State Street
sence of a Thirteenth
for that.
She
lives, in
Avenue being
who had
a
manner
little
tactlessly calls Lothario,
—assemblage
whom
little
inside,
little
square
is
windows windows down
them
—what,
not hopelessly flawed?) to cackle
one must assume she
who
are always
is
at
ground
above Millie's reach, which helps account
for the fact she has never closed
world,
—and
of interfiliated cats,
fuckers! Millie has been heard (her
from the
she
vicarious pleasure to lighten the daily press of
open, winter and summer, level, yet,
?
bad luck,
her stagnant aquariums, and her vast
for our purposes, nameless
little
.
lady, well into her dotage, keeps
house alone in the basement, along with her old ram
care:
.
of speaking,
a preclusion, not an oversight,
every reason to expect a
somewhat scabby old
provide Millie a
.
own
unrenovated brownstone. Millie, a be-
lives there in a multistory if
not dead, either by her
between Twelfth and Fourteenth Avenues, the ab-
of our City Fathers
lievable
is
you don't know Millicent Gee
other. Perhaps
blame you
Gee
in this makeshift
from time
referring to the cats.
The
to time,
and
have been
fish
dead for some time.
What
Millie keeps
be guessed, and for
my
on the part,
but not to be trusted. Above tution says
several floors
it's
all:
her
own
aboveground can only
business.
Rumors are rife, The Consti-
not to be encouraged.
enough about the promulgation of rumors, no need for Thank God for the Constitution. Whatever she keeps
lectures here.
up
there, though,
one thing
is
certain:
it is
not likely to be or to have
it. And perhaps there is we seem impulsively driven to up empty spaces, to plump some goddamn thing, any object, imagined, or otherwise, where now there might happily be
been human. Millie wouldn't stand for nothing up there load real,
at all.
To
be sure,
nothing, a peaceful unsullied and unpeopled emptiness, and that's
what she hides up
there,
who knows ? own biases,
But, not to be taken in by our
this
much
maybe
needs to be
said: Millie, all efforts to the contrary notwithstanding,
is
not en-
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
106
divorced from humankind, and there
tirely
doubt that she has son
reason therefore to
is
that upper space go for nothing.
let all
—God knows how she came by him—has no part
life,
apparently his
own
He no
choice.
occasionally to attend the seasonal devotions, in
good humor and kindness,
green suit and stovepipe hat with
on good
about him, even were
capable of
I
which he
his profession
he never
it,
and
is
visits his
mother,
not really her
is
merely the victim of well-intentioned but wrongheaded
at all,
gossip.
partici-
in his clover-
no point saying much more
is
smiles at the idea of duty or oblations, and perhaps
son
passes by here
done up
do with
There
at.
finely
He
ostrich feather, which, I'm told
its
authority, has something to
not, therefore, to be laughed
to play in her
longer lives with old Millie,
but resides elsewhere in an efficiency apartment.
pates in all
Her
To
tell
the truth,
place. Please forget I
have nothing
to
wish
hadn't brought
I
mentioned him,
why
not entirely sure
I
told
I
do with Wilbur Klee. In
that unconscious old nanny. Perhaps I
it
could
in the first
you can. What's more, I'm
if
you about
before facing up to Klee, that
him up
Millie. Certainly, she
was merely
tell
can
smile to think of
fact, I
it,
to demonstrate,
a story without bringing
who but Millie could was led me this way, let me
the hero to some lurid sensational end, and that hero be? In any case, whatever
say in conclusion:
God
it
preserve old Millicent Gee!
it's
the least
I
can do.
As
Wilbur Klee,
for
place
and
proof
is,
is
as
it
now
I've
know,
either, you'll be glad to
dead.
I
not
much more
just this: that
Need
high place? Your questions, friend, are western mind.
On
the other hand,
—that he
effect relationship
—well, you
place
my word
think you can take
were, here in the pudding.
is
are free to
if
to say about
I tell
foolish,
you wish
to
now
for
it.
The
you from what disease
of
the
assume a cause-and-
dead because he jumped from a high
do
so, I
confess
it
has occurred to
more than once and has colored my whole narration. there is some relationship: the remains of Klee, still splattered out in their
him
he jumped from a high
several
and discontinuous
me
Certainly,
moist, are
parts
from a
point direcdy below the high place from which he jumped only a
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
moment
before.
But
107
that's as far as
go, thank you.
I'll
be
refuse to
I
inveigled into any of the almost endless and no doubt learned argu-
ments which
so gratify
to belittle, a
man must
only that,
if I
done with
me
less
and only the worst
I
easier for
Who
I
forget
vows.
it
starts
do
fact,
—but
as well as
my
given
up and I
am
it is
Though
name
at
is
where
I'll
you wish
do not
I
to
make
friend,
this is
it.
care. (// I
silence for such a
my
And
peculiar
it, if
you do
matter
me
an
no disparagement.
I
Wilbur Klee was Wilbur
may have pushed may have made it up,
already
all, I
I
and unprincipled penchant for it
was
his
name
or not,
it
any other. It's
time for an assessment of some kind,
so enigmatically put
call it thirty, to
reminded
So here
won't be dogmatic about
myself.)
no matter! Whether
But enough of Klee! time, as
dead,
is
same again
fine! It certainly will
Really,
and ends.
too far, perhaps that's not his
logogriphics
I
—death?
my
That Klee
for the rest of
do not know,
them frequently
Klee, that's where
will
As
dead.
is
would have broken
I
any man's
very likely in
it's
morbid emotionalism could imagine a
in his present condition.
was Klee, you ask?
and forget
injustice
confess,
to save physics.
do that he took his own life, me as we wind this up. But I
—or
mean
don't
I
for dissent: he'll never be the
sort of
him
knew, do you think as this
room
ground: Klee
believe as it
had died
that Klee
suitable future for
my
nation's savants.
take his pleasures where he finds them,
weren't careful, one would think before they'd had
however, leaves
stand
and absorb the
for
by the storybook people,
no
clear cause of the case
Evachefsky. Let us hope for some link, some
light,
wrap
to
prophesy by the clouds and sign off
.
of Orval
.
.
it
but
Nulin
and drive on.
Orval was born exactly forty-two years ago today, the second son of Felix -and Use Evachefsky, on a small Eastern farm which Felix had acquired with the savings of his deceased immigrant parents. Orval's early years
were largely uneventful.
A
strong but
timid boy of average intelligence, he passed through Porter County
High School difficult,
as a
popular athlete and incurious student. Times were
the world
was
was deeply mortgaged,
large so
and redoubtable, and the family farm
Orval and his two brothers, Perk and
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
108
Willie, the
older than Orval, the second younger (the only sister
first
Marge was married and County), stayed on
had
lost his right
would have months
arm
some
living
away
distance
in
Huffam
high school to help their father. Old Felix
machine accident and doubtless
in a threshing
the farm as well, had not Perk, Orval, and
lost
Willie pitched
after
in.
He
lost
after all three boys
it
anyway,
as
it
young
turned out, not
were drafted into the
service
many
during the
war, they having failed to declare their status as farmworkers. Felix died two years
later,
pendent upon
a broken
and
disillusioned
man,
entirely de-
Even at that, some might say he was enough to learn of the lacklustre in-thedeaths of his sons Perk and Willie. Only
state relief.
fortunate in not living long service-of-their-country
Orval returned from the wars, though not entirely whole: an other-
him to a Maggie Wilson, Treponema Pallidum, and the debilitating. For several months after
wise well-meaning buddy had introduced
who
had introduced him
in turn
cure was long and psychically
to
Orval lived isolated and unshaven in
his discharge,
apartment (she had moved here
had the old lady not been
totally
impervious to
nomena, she might have discovered morbid melancholia. But
luckily
his mother's
to the City after Felix died), all
and
external phe-
in her son a tendency
toward
an old friend encouraged Orval
to
take advantage of governmental education handouts to veterans, and to business school, soon forgetting— apparently any—his worries. At school, he met Sissy Ann Madison, rescued her
Orval went
way
off
humdrum of the business world and introduced her to the humdrum of housewifery, though not without suffering a few from the
weeks of strange and Orval and Sissy people
Ann
call perfect
who grew
irrational panic just before the
were painfully slow
union, and in
nation to do arts,
much
reaching a state of what too slow for Sissy
increasingly nervous about the delay,
certainly have sought her
man's
fact,
at
so.
own
solutions
ceremony.
Ann,
and who would
had she had enough imagi-
Meanwhile, though lacking most of the business-
and often the gull of unscrupulous
colleagues, Orval
developed steadily into a dependable and conscientious salesman,
unimpeachably loyal
to the
Company and
embarrassingly honest in
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS his negotiations.
Then,
109
as oftentimes happens, as
Ann came
fidence grew, Sissy
him on
appropriate gaiety, surprised
wedding anniversary with the news
that a child
A father!
he thought of
proud old man, and on the day
his
own
after Sissy
impulsively bought cigars for everyone
though he
still
had nearly eight months
are understood and,
more
self-con-
with
finally,
night of their ninth
the
kind of delirium possessed Orval. He! at least sixteen years,
OrvaPs
him more, and
to enjoy
was expected.
For the
first
morose but
father, that
Ann had the
in
A
time in
told him, he
Company, even
to wait. Well, such things
often than not, forgiven in the business
world. His sales soared over the next few months, his self-confidence
new and
climbed to a
life
was
until
one
exhilarating peak, and in short,
extraordinarily bountiful for Orval
Nulin Evachefsky
.
.
.
Ann, only a month away from parstrange red splotch on her face. She thought
day, late in the autumn, Sissy turition,
developed a
nothing of
it,
in spite of feeling a litde funny, but then a second
appeared a day
was the purest
He
later,
and she began
serenity,
compared
to
to
grow alarmed. Yet her alarm
what was happening
did not need the second splotch, that
to dredge past,
and
up
all
the forgotten
Wilson and her
spirochaete.
table, forgetting his
first
up
He
to Orval.
one was quite enough
and unconfessed
in particular, to call
one
fears of his troubled
the grinning spectre of
staggered
Maggie
away from the breakfast
hat and briefcase, and hours later found himself
stumbling blindly about in the port area of the City, a piece of cold toast in his hands.
With
the aid of three gin rickeys, he
pull himself together by nightfall sleep
was shattered by
and find
terribly biological
was
hardly noticing the second splotch on Sissy Ann's face, he
out hat, briefcase, credit cards, or office is
tie.
Whether
or not he
left
went
withto the
unfortunately not known. But at 12:47, Orval took the
and
at
window
to
elevator to the thirty-seventh floor of the Federal Building, 12 152, without the slightest hesitation, leaped
from
a west
impaling himself on a parking meter in the street below, immense horror of Carlyle Smith, schoolteacher, age thirtywho was about to put a penny in the meter. Just before learning
his death,
to the six,
able to
way home, but his visions. The next day, his
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
110
of his death, his wife Sissy
had
Ann was
told
by her obstetrician that she
He
a fairly acute case of infectious erysipelas.
penicillin in the
bottom and ordered her
Their lunch
brown matter
to bed.
—an indescribable amalgam of black meat, greenish-
and thick wet wads of some uncertain doughy
gravy,
—concluded
Jenny's
gave her a shot of
Home
at last, the city
Cooking Cafe,
with putty knives and
remove Klee, once and
firemen emerge belching from
cross the small square, and,
for
all,
from our minds. The Chief,
from our
sight,
and
Laws,
hooked up
is
shrieking obscene
to a public-address
and an unholy howl
of
commands
man
with
strict interpreta-
microphone
into a
system with three oversize speakers
(a fourth speaker
The growing bulge
thus, let us hope,
a withered crowfaced career
a bent bluish nose and a citywide reputation for a tion of the
armed
of soapy water, begin to
plastic buckets
present, but disconnected).
is
about
huddles
spectators
the
acci-
dent, so-called, staring with astonishingly blank faces at the sweat-
One
ing black-slickered firemen.
man whose furiously
uniform
up
to the
is,
of these
—what do you
call it?
an enormous
latter,
fire-
apart where sewn, stamps
literally, splitting
—the point of impact, and
as though in protest against the pressing dull-faced crowd, stoops
and
is
visibly delighted, his
and he ducks
perceptibly,
What
interest.
he
is
doing
to the task at is
.
.
.
ah
paths of his direction
is
.
.
.
like
lie
fat face
reddens
hand with exaggerated
scattered over the
miniature milestones,
spilt life's
own
merely collecting in a small pouch the
fragments of Klee's dentures, which like
wholly unintentionally:
farts indelicately, yet, as it turns out,
though the crowd
blood. Well,
we
let
us say,
pavement
marking the
could say more, but the
dangerous.
But mark
this detail
and perhaps even blank,
:
a small scrap of paper, completely illegible
lies
not far from us in the fringe splatter of
the main impact, weighted by a finger joint. //
/'/
possible that for
some time past the destructive elements in Klee's character were jew and effectively though with great effort submerged, but that Klee
—
—
perversely guarded the notes
moments by
these elements,
and themes provided
and
in
despairing
that these notes, all too honest, all
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
111
too unanswerable, eventually contributed decisively to his inevitable
but no betray
Hmmm,
abrupt and disturbing end?
less
my
but perhaps
the pavement before Klee arrived so melodramatically,
no account. In
so be a circumstance of like a handbill.
today.
What
I
For the piece of paper may well have been there on
trust.
The
is life,
streets are
after
all,
now
All of Klee has
fact, I confess, it
and would looks
more
always cluttered with them, more so
but a caravan of
lifelike forgeries
?
been gathered up and stuffed into a wax-
—strange
how
him there was that it should all fit! and the firemen are hard at work with water and scrub-brushes. Pretty dull stuff. Hardly the kind of show to keep crowds about, especially when there's a circus in town, and it goes without saying that they're all moving on. So may we. It only lined shopping bag
litde of
—
remains to be observed that Orval Nulin Evachefsky suffered from a
mental disturbance marked by melancholy and irrational
more
when
or less sat upon, which,
given license over
terrors,
him
as a
consequence of Sissy Ann's splotches, drove him hastily to his annihilation.
mere
was if
Whether
we
then
we
was the result of a more simply, reason itself say, never know. And even
Klee's suicide, however,
disease of his private reason, or
Klee's disease,
will, I
am
if,
sorry to
should find out somehow, though
it'd
be
finally, is to
damned
self-
little
I
cannot imagine
consolation to Klee.
The
best
it,
we
even
can do,
impose the soothing distortion of individuation on the
and
we
more than
I
for
one
whether he does or not.
We
didn't start all this just to search out a
luckless bastard,
comforting headstone,
feel
God knows. No,
deserve
that,
no, in the end, in truth,
are left virtually with nothing: an overlooked eyetooth, the
PA.
we left
howling, a stained and broken ostrich feather, the faint after-odor of the fireman's fart.
Abandoned.
And
a good fifteen, twenty minutes
shot to hell.
I'm sorry.
What
can
I
say ?
Even
I
had expected more. You are
right to be angry. Here, take these tickets, the city clerk, obsequious fool that
he
is,
something and
refused them, you might as well go.
this is all I have.
I
owe you
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
112
J's
It
Marriage
began not otherwise than one might expect. After an excessive
period of unlicensed self-humiliation, ecstatic protests of love, fear, despair,
and the
mate happiness though
to
any imaginable kind of
which she replied and usually
(to all of
ulti-
in kind,
rarely with such intensity), J at last determined, or perhaps
had been
this
total impossibility of
marry
drawbacks
mere
his determination all the while, the rest
her. Slow, but then there to the affair:
though she was
he was
more broadly educated. In
it
And
older for one thing.
and imaginative, he was
wouldn't be unkind
fact, it
brought himself to confess
were admittedly substantial
much
certainly intelligent
poetry,
in the torment of his
to say,
most
far
and he
rational
moments, that a good many of the most beautiful things he
said to
her she failed to understand, or rather, she understood not the sense of them, but merely the apparent emotion, the urgency, the adoration behind them. possible adorable?
himself. his
And did he adore To search out this
And, more generally and
most oppressive
her, or the objectification of a
answer,
therefore
}
frankly did not trust
more
significantly, all of
fears about the ultimate misery of any existence,
the inevitable disintegration of love, the hastening process of physical
and mental
fears
were
rot,
the stupidity of
entirely real, in fact,
and he knew
it.
human
more than
passion,
and
fears, they
so on, these
were
his lot
But there was no alternative short of death,
so
he
decided to marry her.
To
his great
embarrassment, however, she was shocked by his
proposal, apparently so at least, later
did he
burgeoned all
come
to
in her, a fear that
the time, but
and pleaded
understand that a
for time.
new kind
Only much had
of fear
no doubt cowered beneath the surface
which had always been placated by the suspicion
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS was
that J himself
nothing more physically substantial than
really
words which
his words,
113
at times pierced the heart, true, kindled the
blood, powerful words, even at times painful; but their power and their pain did not, could not pin
one helplessly
to the earth,
could
not bring actual blood.
At
grew angry,
the time misconstruing her behavior, however, )
pressed his affections with atypical peevishness. She tore away, spat at him hatefully. He withdrew, collapsed into a prolonged and somewhat morbid melancholy, unable to lift a hammer or turn a blade. She sought him out. She wept, embraced him, tried patheti-
out
cally to explain.
He
again misunderstood and renewed his assault.
She screamed
in terror
ful confusion.
He grew
it
and escaped. Again he ill.
She cared for him.
dragged, until, in summary,
at last
it
fell
back in remorse-
And on and
became apparent
to
on, thus
him
that
although she did love him and had a healthy longing for motherhood, at
least in the abstract, she
the prospect of the loveact
What was
it ?
was nevertheless panic-stricken by
itself.
a lifetime of misguided dehortations
deformed grannies, miserable old the underworld (which the
tales of
woman's very
from ancient
blood and the tortures of position in the event
must
give one thoughts upon), or some early misadventure, perhaps a
dominant father? present
act,
vant. This
It
hardly mattered. For, in the instant of the
the past in
is
what
all its
troubling complexities becomes irrele-
} believed anyway, and once the immediate cause
of their problems had finally been
immense
relief.
case, there
level
ately
Not only was
was now no longer any
where they two
existed,
made
manifest to him, he
his pride assuaged,
obstacle to their marriage.
he explained
where he might guide love,
At
the
to her, his voice appropri-
his
domain
her, at this level sex could not be
compre-
muted, eyes darkened, brow furrowed, Truth
hended without
felt
but more to the
but love could be distinguished without refer-
ence to sex; in short, that one was the whole, the other a mere part, contributing to the perfection of the whole to be sure, but not indispensable, not indispensable.
More
her terms, he could not imagine
life
precisely,
he added whatever
without her, and
:
if
later
they
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
114
came
to share in the natural act of lovers, well, so
would arrive there, encouragement and at her own pace. course, but they
was
It
accepted
human
true (just at that
even
it,
if it
did
moment anyway)
fail to
much
all
grasped,
more by
possibly with this singular
no
this
that he said, she
take into account the processes of
action as she understood them, doubtless
than he. But aside from
the better of
only with her express
if at all,
more
accurately
and more important: she suddenly
man, and would always enjoy the upper hand in though the word was not hers, sex. All right,
intuition than by reason, that with this other, she
matter
of,
she said. All right, yes, she
would marry him, and not long
after she
did.
Their wedding night was in
all
truth a thing of beauty: the
splendor of the celebrations, the hushed intimacy of a private walk together under the cryptic light of a large
moon, the unexpected
delight discovered in the reflection of a candle's flicker in a decanter
weeping
of aged wine, finally the silent
a night that seemed infinite in
dawn,
J,
course;
sitting
it
on the
its
side of the
would take some while
ness), overflowing with
temples, and with the beside him,
and
J
still
dressed, of
yet to learn that first art of nakedaffection,
thin light of the
wept again
arms through
innumerable dimensions. Toward
bed (both of them
profound
first
in each other's
to realize the
began
new
to
day, she
caress fell
her
asleep
meaning and the impor-
tance of her sleep.
In spite of
all
his doubts, fears, his
submerged impatience with
the qualifications, to say nothing of his general view of the universe,
not exactly, as shown, a reassuring one, several
months an
J
nevertheless enjoyed for
incredible happiness. Everything
became remark-
ably easy for him, the dullest detail of existence provided
him an
immense delight: a parade of ants, for example, or the color of a piece of wood or a pebble, her footprint in the dust. Merely to watch her hand reach for a cup or place a comb in her hair left him breathless. Every act was dedicated to her being, her mere being.
The bed he made
for her with his
own
hands, the table as well
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS which never lacked her
and the
plete happiness
consuming
made
these.
seemed
love.
J,
God knows:
last,
and puppets,
too,
Almost from the
minor, obstacle to their com-
certain, ultimately, to give
confident of his
own
made
at least
of his age
much
way
to their all-
sexual attractiveness, even
—no, not over much —was patient, infinitely patient, and she
he was, which was not too old after
should be seemed,
little flutes
encountered an emotional harmony inexpressibly beau-
and even the
as old as
him,
gifts to
chairs she sat on, he also
outset, they tiful,
115
all
of the time, as desirous as he to
consummate,
in the proper time, their marriage.
One sea.
an
He
idle
evening, just before sunset, J happened to be
had forgotten why he was
down by
the
there, perhaps nothing more than
wandering before supper, but yet
it
seemed altogether neces-
sary that he should be there, just at that instant, just as the dying
sun melted, viscous and crimson, into the sullen distant
mountains blinked from orange-green
sea, just as the
to blue, just as the
awoke the pines over his head. It was not, it was not beautiful, no, it would be absurd to think of this or any other natural composite as beautiful, but it was as though it could be beautiful, as though somewhere there resided within it the potentiality of beauty, not previously existent, some spar\ after all, only first stirring
of the night
—and
illusion of course, but
he turned
coming toward him down the
just in
time to see his wife
path. Paralyzed, he stood rooted, un-
speaking, utterly entranced by her graceful motion, by the pale light
playing over her slender body, and, above
awkward stare. Oh my God when she was near enough to
returning his to whisper,
all,
I
by her
eyes, smilingly
love you! he
hear.
And
feverish exultation, he buried his face in her breasts
them, and she allowed emotion, he
fell
it.
Then,
finally,
and caressed
overcome with an excess of
into a deep sleep full of wonderful dreams,
unfortunately he could never later
The
managed
that night, in
which
recall.
actual process of increasing intimacy
was an elaborate
sequence of advances and reversals, which need not be enumerated here.
At moments,
J
would be
greatly encouraged, perhaps by a
?
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
116
sudden
act
on her
part, a stroking of his
naked back while he was
bent over his lathe, a pressing of his hand to her breast, a soft folding into his arms while
still
half asleep beside
But other times he would unwittingly shock
him
in their bed.
her, set her to crying or
running from the room, or would wake her with a hand too
on her
tent
thighs.
fears
had been
years
tossing
And,
in fact,
justified, that
sleeplessly,
utterly impenetrable body.
it
that his worst
he would indeed pass the
tortured,
At such
times, he
bitterly
and
rest of his
marvelous but
her
alongside
the water she bathed in or the chair he
found himself weeping
seemed
actually
insis-
found himself envying
was carving
for her to
on,
sit
alone, his face in a piece of her
clothing.
But then, one evening
after supper, utterly
without warning, he
entered the bedroom to find her standing, undressed, beside the bed.
She was astonishingly his
beautiful, lovelier than
he had imagined in
He
gasped, unbelieving,
most distraught and fanciful dreams.
took a faltering step toward her. She blushed, cast her eyes down.
With trembling
fingers he tore off his shirt, ran to her, pressed her
to his chest, no, she ears,
tearfully kissed her
was no mere apparition, he
her hair, her eyes, her neck, her breasts.
He was
delirious,
feared he might faint. His hands searched desperately, clumsily,
down between—
swept over her smooth back, burrowed said. Please
don't. It
was somehow the way
she said
words, which were clearly meaningless, but the
way
words, as though carving them with consummate tainty,
and placing them,
like great stone tablets,
all
he could find for himself
to say.
I
am
not the
she formed the skill
and
cer-
between them.
Bewildered, he fumbled a moment, stepped back, and
was
Don't, she it,
I
don't
—
expecting a baby, she
said.
What happened weeks, that followed
in the is,
moments, and
of course, a
common
particularly entertaining
one
from delirium, and she
patiently nursed
now
at that. J
took
for that matter in the
kind of ill,
story,
and not a
suffered frequendy
him back
to health.
She
undressed freely in front of him, but with a self-preoccupation
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
and indifference
presence that
his
to
117
would have permanendy
deranged a younger man, not so well equipped for explained to
him simply
he had to admit against
was an
that her pregnancy
mandates of
all
life as J.
his reason that
but he couldn't imagine whatever had brought a
God
it
She
God, and
act of
must be
so,
do such a
to
and, well, yes, in a way, almost vulgar thing. J always thought about everything a great deal, even trivia that others might useless
and forget
either sensibly ignore, or observe
and about
serving,
this, to
Every day while prostrate in bed, he turned
dreams the mystery
feverish
in the very act of ob-
be sure, he thought even more than usual.
set his
it
brain on
over and over, and in fire
and caused tiny
painful explosions behind his eyes that sometimes kept going off
even after he was awake. But no power of mental
meaningful answer for him;
God would
that any
affairs of this or
were they
tant
dumped that time
began tion.
any other
to
to find his
She said
little
no
sion drove to
it
about
less
life's
must be
way back
to
him
animal, so inutterably unimpor-
it
it,
and from
daily.
said that
to health
it,
he simply gave in to
inscrutable absurdities,
one of the reasons he
was her own worsening condi-
behaved toward him
frequently, but there
suffering, quiet or no:
seemed
human
improve almost
to his credit
ever, smiled
was simply unimaginable
to each other. Finally,
on began
And
provided a
so involve himself in the tedious personal
in with the rest of
it
it
effort
as
generously as
was no mistaking her
was not and would not be
easy.
Compas-
him to forget his own wretchedness, and daily, though he grow even older, he seemed as well to assume greater and
greater stature. tion, secretly
He
returned to his carpentry with renewed dedica-
saved aside small portions of food as insurance for her
against fhe approaching winter, learned to
comprehend
in his day's
many of the tasks they once took for granted as hers. The month was particularly bitter, the great misfortune of the ill-
activities last
timed took
it
trip,
the strange cruelty of the elements, and so on, but she
with great courage, greater even than his own, suffered with
dignity the flesh-ripping agony of birth, writhing
on the
dirt floor
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
118
dying
like a
strange
beast, yet noble, beautiful. It
birth
—
was
most mystic moment,
J's
—that moment of the
his
only
glimpse of the whole of existence, yet one which he
indisputable
renounced,
later
needless to say, later understood in the light of his overwrought
tortured emotions.
And
it
was
afterwards, they drifted quietly years J
and
also the climax of his love for her;
and impassively
apart, until in later
found himself incapable even of describing her
to himself or
any other person.
The marriage
itself,
formal
as a
which did not come
this case, J's),
because nothing was done to stop part in the process, did of course
some while, but
for quite
little
fact, lasted
on
to the
The boy
it.
draw away
more. As for
end (in
most part
early, lasted for the
played but a small
the mother's attention
J,
in spite of his general
willingness to love the boy, he could never bring himself actually to
do
thoroughgoing manner, and for
so in any
the boy
showed complete
well; J
grew
indifference to J
this or other reasons,
from an
to prefer not being bothered to
early age. Just as
any other form of
existence.
One here, J
thing did happen, though perhaps too
maybe not even
himself talked of
dreamt
it,
it
freely
he could never deny
dreams from that
beautiful
it,
:
did at
last
consummate
about doing
so,
had come
it
earlier
namely, that some four or
gotten)
trivial
even to report
number no doubt hold, even though to those close to him (or perhaps he
true as a
might have been one of those magical night, thought
five
months
his marriage. to take life as
He it
after the
for-
boy came,
J
had frankly forgotten
oddly was for granted (a
carryover from his prolonged illness and consequent cure), had
turned
in,
breasts
still
weary from work, when she came into the room, her exposed from having nursed the baby, and
down on
sat
the bed beside him. She smiled wanly, perhaps not even at him, he
couldn't be sure, didn't even wonder,
her breasts with a small purpose.
J rose
up
damp sponge
casually, as
and then she began
to
bathe
she had brought along for the
he might have done time
took the sponge from her hands (she surrendered
it
after time,
willingly,
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS washed her
119
interest for
was curious they held so little him: had he kissed them with such terrible rapture so
recendy?
was
sleepily),
He
it
breasts
(it
ago) and then her neck and back.
really very long
undressed her, her exhausted body compliant, went out to the
well,
reality),
him as extraordinary, him doubts about the event's
unclothed himself (later this struck
still
odd element
lent the
that caused
dipped the sponge in fresh cool water, returned to complete
her bath.
As though nothing more than the rest of a customary had a more or less satisfactory emis-
routine, he then penetrated her,
and
sion, rolled over,
some moments J died,
slept until
morning. She had
thus ending the marriage, unattractively with his face in
a glassful of red wine on a tavern table especially appropriately, since not
much
fallen asleep
before.
of a drinker.
him (keeping
He had
just
even in
many his
remarked
to himself the old
to
years later,
and not
advanced years was he
somebody
sitting near
bubbling wish that there might
have been a child for him that time, a kind of testimonial for him to leave) that
had turned out
life
had expected
after all,
he was
chestful of consumption,
to be
now
nothing more or
less
than he
very inept at his carpentry, had a
was already passing whole days without
being able to remember them afterwards, urinated on the hour and
sometimes in
his pants, separately or additively could
of any day of his
life,
and
make no
sense
so on, a tavern-type speech, in short,
but
he added that the one peculiarity he had not accurately foreseen, and perhaps
it
was the most important of
everything, there
was nothing
all,
tragic about
was
it,
that,
in spite of
no, nothing there to
get wrought up about, on the contrary. Then, without transition, a
mental feult more
common
to
him
in later years, he
had a rather
uncharacteristic thought about the time she, the wife, fell asleep, or
apparently
so,
laughed (that
morning following the wedding night; he high-pitched rattle of old men), starding the person
who had been
that
listening,
consumptive coughing.
and died
as described
above in a
fit
of
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
120
The Wayfarer came upon him on the road. I pulled over, stepped out, walked directly over to him where he sat. On an old milestone. His long I
tangled beard was a yellowish gray, his eyes dull with the dust of the road. His clothes were
was not a sympathetic
me no a
but what could
He
do ?
I
stood for a while in front of him, hands on hips, but he paid
I
up
and smelled of mildew.
of a color
all
figure,
heed.
little
or disappeared into his collection of ously. Vacantly. Perhaps
sure he afraid to
was
alive, for
(I
it.
my
did not.
boot.
But
still,
The
I
thought): mindlessly. Yet
reasoned.
It
may
or
I
scuffed
dust settled
he stared oblivi-
he sighed deeply from time
acknowledge me,
the case, but
He
thought: at least he will stand.
I
dust between us with the toe of
may
I
could be
to time.
He
served, for the time being, as a useful premise.
it
sun was hot, the
air dry. It
my
was
silent,
except for the
is
not have been
The
traffic.
my feet, made a large business of extracting my memo-book from my breast pocket, tapped my pencil on it loudly. I was determined to perform my function in the I
cleared
throat, shifted
matter, without regard to
how
disagreeable
it
might prove
to be.
Others passed on the road. They proffered smiles of commiseration,
which
I
returned with a pleasant nod.
The wayfarer wore
a floppy
black hat. Tufts of yellow-gray hair poked out of the holes in
dead wheat. Finally, stare.
No doubt, it swarmed. Still, he would not look at me. I squatted and interposed my face in the path of
Slowly
—
They seemed
painfully,
it
to brighten
would seem
—his
momentarily, but
could have been joy as easily as rage, or
Only
that: his eyes brightened; his face
pressive.
it
And
it
was not a glow, nothing
it
eyes focused I
am
like
his
on mine.
not sure why. It
could have been fear.
remained slack and inexthat could be graphed, it
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
was
121
glimmer. Then dull again. Filmy
just a briefest spark, a
And
though with a kind of mucus smeared over.
know whether
don't
my
badge.
at the
time that he would, then there could be
no further ambiguities. But traveled far,
Now
erally a safe supposition.
could have been impatience,
tempt! felt
The
my
was
reasoned, or anger
I
baseless.
light,
God! was
fear. I
trousers, then squatted
self-assurance.
I
able to
began
do
gen-
It is
once again.
catechism was coming back to me.
back in the dust.
again,
And now: is
it.
supposed
I
my
off
with a certain
my
our best teacher:
He would
I
was
It
brushed the dust
it,
It
even: con-
memo-book.
Once
to recover.
Duty, a proper sense of
—or
wrote something in
I
that. I stood,
down
I sat
my
studied
I
was blan\l Urgently,
it
There! Not so bad now. it
has
found myself beset with doubt.
I
thought, unwonted, jolted me.
peculiarly
blank!
He
frankly doubted that he did.
I
thought.
I
had begun with the supposition that he feared me.
I
as
lost the focus. I
or not in that instant of perception he noticed
wished
I
he
enjoy no further
advantages. I
asked
silence in
him about
my
book.
I
himself, received
no answers.
I
recorded his
wrote the word aphonia, then erased
True,
it.
I
could have determined the matter, a mere palpation of the neck cords, but the prospect of dipping
my
fingers into the cavities be-
hind that moldy beard revolted me, and the question,
after
all,
was
not of primary concern. Moreover, a second method then occurred to
me:
if I
could provoke a sound out of him, any sound,
prove that the vocal mechanism was uttered no sound,
confident I
I
and out
asked
him
him
my
His gaze
chest
I
would not rifle
floated
the President's
from
Of
course,
he was mute, but
my
if
he
I felt
back and poked the barrel under
unimpeded down name.
I
of the gravity of his violation
I
intact.
establish that
into indeterminate space.
asked him what day
adamant.
still
would
could provoke a sound and have an end to the problem.
unstrapped
his nose.
it
it
it
was.
I
I
the barrel through
asked him his
my
name.
I
my name. I reminded my own unlimited powers. him what place it was. He was
asked him
and of
asked
lowered the barrel and punched
it
into his chest.
The
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
122
thumped
barrel
wince.
Not
much
so
man
refused
—
—to
groin.
I
look at me.
might
unaware of
How
could
more
ordered
him
his head.
I
at
to
lift
him.
I
my
one
He
seemed
ordered
him
him
my
boots.
He
finger.
I
utterly
and
was
me.
one finger!
lift
But
the
him.
at
I
in
rifle
fired a shot over
to look at
rifle butt.
stared. I
I
less
felt
I
down
shook the
I
his hat.
him
ordered
my
at stake.
stomped down on
would not even
broke his nose with
that old milestone, sat
I
shouted
down.
to lie
remove
to
much was
more reproving.
tie. I
kicked dust into his face.
I
have
into his
it
Those passing were now
—yes:
loosened
ordered
course, that
it?
more
curious,
to stand. I
papery shoes with
him
know
collar. I
front of his nose.
knew, of
I
help but
my
sweat under
And
not have
attentions.
I
sympathetic,
may
not, could not
have been poking a pillow.
as well
my
was
it
it
lowered the barrel and punched
I
stood impatiently.
I
fact,
did not even
cautioned myself.
I
say refused, although
I
been a question of volition; in been
He
as a whisper.
was becoming angry. Inwardly,
I
that old
still
he wore and something cracked,
in the thick coats
but he said nothing.
so furious
his old
ordered
screamed
I
he
still
I
sat, sat
on
could have
I
wept. I
would
try a
new
once more in the line his gaze. I bared stare vacantly. eyes.
I
I
tack. I knelt
—
my
if
so
teeth. I
ordered
him
down
in front of
him.
ordered him to
sit.
I
Or, rather: he remained exactly as he was before.
of
my
I
had anticipated a certain
confidence, but
I
intruded
no longer looked
I
their reproachful eyes
were on me.
I
to focus his
He
obeyed.
was hardly
satisfaction, a partial restoration felt
more
at those passing. I
knew
was disappointed. In
frustrated than ever.
—of
ordered him to
under threat of death,
not,
ordered the blood to flow from his pulpy nose.
gratified.
I
vague a thing could be called that
My back
fact,
I
sweat from the intensity
of their derision. I set
would
my
teeth. It
carry out
my
was time.
I
told
orders and execute
him if he did not speak, I him on the spot. My orders,
to be precise, did not specify this place, but
did not exclude
it,
and
if
on the other hand they
he would not move, what choice did
I
SEVEN EXEMPLARY FICTIONS
123
as I asked him to speak, I knew he would not. Even was forming and emitting the very words, I already was
have? Even while
I
contemplating the old dilemma* a fair chance
I
If I
shot
pleasure in that thought.
On
I
was
He would
die
heart.
am more humane
the other hand,
head, he would surely die instandy, but I
in the chest, there
would miss or only graze the
slowly. It could take several days.
countenance.
him
it
head. In
The
fact, I
regard of
my
chest seems to
me
chest distantly fountaining blood.
me. Given these considerations, I
had
do
I
not. I
would rather away than the
could almost enjoy dying, allowed the slow dreamy
thought of the swift hard knock in the skull
As
I
farther
in the
a mess of his
do not enjoy the sight of mutilated heads.
in the chest.
it
him
shot
if I
would make
have often thought, myself, when the time came, receive
than to take
I
shot
him
is
Contrarily, the
an eternal torment to
in the chest.
feared, he did not die immediately.
He
did not even,
moment, alter either his expression or his posture. His coats were thick and many. I could see the holes drilled by the rifle shells, but I saw no blood. What could that mean? I was shaken by a sudden violent fever of impatience. Only by strenuous self-control was I able to restrain myself from tearing his clothes off to inspect the wound. I thought: if I don't see blood immediately, / shall lose it again! I was trembling. I wiped my mouth with the back of my for the
hand. Then, slowly, a dark stain began to appear in the the nick of time! across
my
knees.
It
spread.
Now
there
I
sighed.
was only
I
tatters.
sat back and lay the
to wait. I
In
rifle
glanced toward the
road from time to time and accepted without ceremony the com-
mendatory nods.
The
stain enlarged. It
would not take
long.
I sat
and waited.
His coats were soon soaked and the blood dripped down the milestone between his legs. Suddenly, his eyes fixed
worked, quickly.
And
his teeth I
chewed
his beard. I
on mine. His
lips
wished he would end
it
even considered firing a second shot through his head.
then he spoke.
He
spoke rapidly, desperately, with neither
punctuation nor sentence structure. Just a ceaseless eruption of obtuse language.
He
spoke of constellations, bone structures, myth-
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
124
and
ologies,
love.
He
spoke of belief and lymph nodes, of excava-
and prophecies. Faster and
tions, categories,
he spoke. His eyes
faster
gleamed. Harmonics! Foliations! Etymology! Impulses! Suffering!
His voice rose
to a shriek. Immateriality patricide ideations heat-
stroke virtue predication
At
last,
with
My
job
this,
he
—
I
grew annoyed and
I
had
was done. As
my
was
feared, he
my
to
tie. I
successfully put his present condition out of
him, strapped
my
admit, but
earlier
securely
rifle
view of him
was the
it
first
altogether. In the patrol car,
still
on
whole.
down
would make the
back, reknotted
It
my
down
full report
little better, I
I
drove a
later,
back
and
farther
little
the vital data in
out
my my
mind, recon-
was
called in details of the incident
the road, parked, jotted I
turned
I
toward forgetting him
essential step I
ordered the deposition squad to the scene.
book.
in the head.
a mess.
back
structing
him
shot
fell.
my memo-
at the station. I
noted the exact time.
This done,
memo-book
returned the
I
to
my
leaned back, and stared absently out the window.
mind was not loom this
in
my
yet entirely free of the old
my
to
having stooped
had been commendable, of gesture,
if
man. At
down
supposed that
my
The
jammed
farther to relieve the obtrusion, resting
back of the
seat. I
Uniformly
rifle
watched the it
motives
course, but the consequences of such a
down
in the future.
My
he would
practiced habitually, could well prove disastrous.
it
it.
I
to his level:
avoid
in
restless.
times,
inner eye larger than the very landscape.
was due
breast pocket,
was
I
traffic.
against
my
Gradually,
flowed, quietly, possessed of
I
my
I
spine.
would I
slid
head against the
became absorbed
its
own unbroken
grace and precision. There was a variety in detail, but the stream itself was one. One. The thought warmed me. It flowed away and away and the unpleasant images that had troubled my mind flowed away with it. At last, I sat up, started the motor, and entered the
flow
itself. I felt
calm and happy.
A participant. I enjoy my work.
THE ELEVATOR
Every morning without exception and without so
much
upon it, Martin takes where he works. He
first arrives,
the self-service elevator to the fourteenth floor, will
ever, her finds the lobby
feinting
shadows and
and he wonders It is
if
today
7:30 a.m.:
entirely to himself.
as reflecting
do
When
silences, desolate it
he
is
early
still
how-
possessed of
its
though mutely expectant,
might not turn out
Martin
He
so today.
empty, the old building
differ endy.
and therefore has the
steps inside: this tight cell!
elevator
he thinks with a
kind of unsetding shock, and confronts the panel of numbered buttons.
One
to fourteen, plus
"B"
for basement. Impulsively,
he
125
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
126
presses the
—seven years and yet to
"B"
visit
the basement!
He
snorts
at his timidity.
moment, the doors rumble shut. All night alert waiting for this moment! The elevator sinks slowly into the earth. The stale gloomy odors of the old building having aroused in him After a silent
an unreasonable sense of dread and he
descending into
is
Tra
hell.
la
loss,
Martin imagines suddenly
A mild shudder
perduta gente, yes!
shakes him. Yet, Martin decides firmly, would that old carrier halts with a quiver.
Nothing, only a basement.
It is
The
were
it
automatic doors
empty and nearly dark.
The
so.
yawn
open.
It is silent
and meaningless. Martin smiles inwardly
"Come
number
at himself, presses the
"14."
on, old Charon," he declaims broadly, "Hell's the other
way!"
Martin waited miserably for the stench of nostrils.
Always the same.
could never prove
who
Carruther
it.
Not
always
He so
led
supposed
much
intestinal gas to reach his it
was Carruther, but he
as a telltale squeak.
them, and though
changed, Carruther was always
among them. six men and
They were seven in the elevator: who operated it. The girl did not
participate.
offended, but she never gave a hint of
it.
But
the
was
it
other
the
faces
young
girl
She was surely
She possessed a surface
detachment that not even Carruther's crude proposals could penetrate.
Much
men. Yet
And,
less
did she involve herself in the coarse interplay of
certainly, yes,
Martin supposed, they were a torment
he was right
—there
it
was, faint at
then slowly thickening, sickening, crowding up on
first,
to her.
almost sweet,
him
"Hey!
Who fahred thet shot?" cried Carruther, starting
"Mart
fahred-it!"
of loud laughter.
came
the inexorable reply.
And
it.
then the crush
THE ELEVATOR "What!
Is
127
that Martin fartin' again?" bellowed another, as their
toothy thicklipped howling congealed around him.
"Aw
please,
Mart! don't fart!" cried yet another.
It
The elevator was small: walls. "Have a heart, Mart!
until they left the elevator.
packed
it,
jammed
at the
would go on their laughter
don't part that
fart!"
not me,
It's
was no
use. It
A
fate.
It
Fate and Carruther. (More laughter, more
"Aw, Marty, you're modest!" Carruther had thundered. Booming voice, big man.
brute jabs.) just
not me, Martin insisted. But only to himself.
it's
was
couple times he had protested.
Martin hated him.
One by floors,
one, the other
men
filed
out of the elevator at different
holding their noses. "Old farty Marty!" they would shout to
way
anyone they met on
their
down
air cleared slightly
the floor.
The
out,
and
In the end, Martin was always
operated the elevator. His
When
it all
toward the to
always got a laugh, up and
each time the door opened. left
alone with the girl
the fourteenth,
who
was the top one.
began, long ago, he had attempted apologetic glances
girl
on
exiting, but she
had always turned her shoulder
him. Maybe she thought he was making a play for her. Finally he
was forced possible.
Of it,
floor,
it
to
adopt the custom of simply ducking out as quickly as
She would in any case assume
course, there
had rehearsed
was on
his
it
was an answer
countless times.
home ground. And
his guilt.
to Carruther. Yes,
The
only
he'd do
it,
way
to
too.
Martin knew
meet that
When
man
the time
came.
Martin is
is
alone
on the
elevator with the operator, a
neither slender nor plump, but
fills
young
girl.
She
charmingly her orchid-colored
uniform. Martin greets her in his usual friendly manner and she returns his greeting with a smile. Their eyes
Hers are brown.
meet momentarily.
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
128
When
Martin enters the
people crowded
in,
elevator, there are actually several other
but as the elevator climbs through the musky old
building, the others, singly or in groups, step out. Finally, Martin
alone with the girl
left
lever, leans against
makes
it,
who
and the cage
sighs
Alone on the elevator with the straight
and
I
subtle.
would
night.
is
Her
sacrifice
girl,
my
He
hips, describes a
calves are
speaks to her,
and
Martin thinks:
life to
Her orchid uniform
under her blossoming it
upward.
a lighthearted joke about elevators. She laughs
vator should crash,
is
operates the elevator. She grasps the
skirt
save her. is
if
this ele-
Her back
is
tight, tucks tautly
kind of cavity
there.
Perhaps
muscular and strong. She grasps the
lever.
The
He
girl
and Martin are alone on the
elevator,
concentrates on her round hips until she
is
which
is
rising.
forced to turn and
look at him. His gaze coolly courses her belly, her pinched and belted waist, past her taut breasts, meets her excited stare. She
They embrace. Her Her mouth is sweet. Martin
breathes deeply, her lips parted. softly
against him.
whether the elevator
is
breasts plunge
has forgotten
climbing or not.
Perhaps Martin will meet Death on the elevator. Yes, going out for lunch one afternoon.
Or
to the drugstore for cigarettes.
press the button in the hall
on
open, a dark smile will beckon. silent.
The
shaft
is
Martin will recognize Death by His
deep.
It is
silence.
He
protest.
He will protest!
oh God! no matter what the
the sense of emptiness underneath breath lurching out
The
shaft
is
long and narrow.
He will not protest.
He
will
the fourteenth floor, the doors will
The
shaft
is
dark.
dark and will not
THE ELEVATOR
129
Martin, as always and without so
much
as reflecting
upon
it,
takes
the self-service elevator to the fourteenth floor, where he works. is
are exchanged.
Though
presses the "14" instead.
As
He
but only by a few minutes. Five others join him, greetings
early,
tempted, he
is
not able to risk the "B," but
Seven years!
the automatic doors press together
and the elevator begins
its
slow complaining ascent, Martin muses absently on the categories.
This small room, so commonplace and so compressed, he observes with a certain melancholic all:
satisfaction, this elevator contains
magnitude,
space, time, cause, motion,
we would
devices,
probably discover them.
chatter with self-righteous smiles (after
the weather, the elections, the
work
stand, apparently motionless, yet
there
is
weighted
to
after
it
particles.
all.
all,
Left to our
class.
The
them
own
other passengers
they are on time) about
that awaits
them
today.
moving. Motion perhaps :
They
that's all
Motion and the medium. Energy and
Force and matter.
The image
grips
him
purely.
Ascent and the passive reorganization of atoms.
At Only
the seventh floor, the elevator stops
a trace of her
himself, of course
by one. But the tains all of
it,
and a
woman
departs
perfume remains. Martin alone remarks
it.
—to
—her absence, as the climb begins again. Reduced
totality of the
loss
is
universe
inconceivable. Yet,
is
if
shudders coolly through Martin's body
suffused: each that
is
—then
so
—
the
man
con-
and a tremor
totality
is
as
nothing. Martin gazes around at his four remaining fellow passengers, a flush of compassion
must always be
washing
But none apparently need him. today, give
The
in behind the tremor.
alert to the possibility of action,
them
If
he could do the work for them
the grace of a day's contemplation
elevator halts, suspended
One
he reminds himself.
and
.
.
.
vibrant, at the tenth floor.
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
130
Two men leave. Two more intermediate stops, and Martin is He has seen them safely through. Although caged as ever
alone. in his
inexorable melancholy, Martin nonetheless smiles as he steps out of the self-service elevator participate,"
he announces in
Wherein now
am
pleased to
full voice. But, as the elevator
is
the elevator's totality
doors
?
cable snaps at the thirteenth floor.
motionlessness
chambers in
safer lying
There
is
a moment's deadly
—then a sudden breathless plunge! The
turns to Martin. its
floor. "I
behind him and he hears the voided descent, he wonders:
close
The
on the fourteenth
They
are alone.
Though
girl, terrified,
inside his heart
is
bursting
he remains outwardly composed. "I think
terror,
on your back," he
He
says.
it is
squats to the floor, but the girl
remains transfixed with shock. Her thighs are round and sleek
under the orchid
"You may
lie
skirt,
on me.
and in the shadowed
My
body
—
"Come," he
will absorb part of the impact."
says.
Her
hair caresses his cheek, her buttocks press like a sponge into his
groin. In love,
moved by
his sacrifice, she weeps.
To calm
her, he
clasps her
heaving abdomen, strokes her soothingly. The elevator
whistles as
it
drops.
Martin worked to
late in the office, clearing
up
the things that needed
be done before the next day, routine matters, yet part of the
uninterrupted necessity that governed his daily office,
Martin's, though he needed
for the
modest
clutter
on top of
no
life.
Not
a large
larger, essentially neat except
his desk.
The room was equipped
THE ELEVATOR
131
only with that desk and a couple chairs, bookcases lining one wall, calendar posted on another.
The overhead lamp was
light in the office being provided
the only
off,
by the fluorescent lamp on Martin's
desk.
Martin signed one cigarette, half-burned it,
last
but
from the
still lit,
ashtray,
retrieved a
drew heavily on
then, as he exhaled with another prolonged sigh, doubled the butt
firmly in the black bowl of the ashtray.
ing
it
among
the heap of crumpled
idly at his watch.
twelve-thirty
whipped into
it.
was
it?
He
was astonished
up,
rolled
extinguishing
it,
twist-
in the ashtray, he glanced
to discover that the
down
his suit jacket off the
Bad enough
The
Still
filters
watch said
—and had stopped! Already after midnight!
He jumped
tie
He
form, sighed, smiled.
jacket
sleeves,
back of his
twelve-thirty
still
his
—but
chair,
them,
buttoned
shoved his arms
my God! how much
only three-quarters of the
way up
later
his back,
askew, he hastily stacked the loose papers on his desk and
switched off the lamp. the hallway,
lit
He
stumbled through the dark room out into
by one dull yellow bulb, pulled
his office
door to
behind him. The thick solid catch knocked hollowly in the vacant corridor.
He
buttoned his shirt
collar, straightened his tie
and the
collar
of his jacket, which was doubled under on his right shoulder, as he
hurried
down
the passageway past the other closed office doors of
the fourteenth floor to the self-service elevator, his heels
away
the stillness
The profound
on the marble
floor.
He
silence of the old building disturbed
urged himself; we'll
know what
time
it is
hammering
trembled, inexplicably.
him. Relax, he
soon enough.
He
the button for the elevator, but nothing happened. Don't
have
to
walk down! he muttered
bitterly to himself.
He
pushed
tell
me
I
poked the
button again, harder, and this time he heard below a solemn rumble, a muffled thump, and an indistinct grinding plaint that grieved progressively nearer. to receive
It
stopped and the doors of the elevator opened
him. Entering, Martin
felt
over his shoulder, but he suppressed
it.
a sudden need to glance back
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
132
Once
he punched the number "i" button on the
inside,
service panel.
The
ing, continued to climb. irritably,
night!
Later, he
Goddamn
this old
wondered why he had done
Although here
Though he was not
it
was
so. its
The
doors
slid
shut behind
amused rumble fading
utterly dark, shapes
seemed
dis-
to form.
could see nothing distinctly, he was fully aware that he
His hand fumbled on wind gnawed at his ankles,
alone.
button. Cold
wretched
over. Just this
elevator stopped, the doors opened, Martin stepped out.
him, he heard the elevator descend, tantly.
wreck! Martin swore
and he jiggled the "i" button over and
The
self-
doors closed, but the elevator, instead of descend-
fool!
he wept, there
is
no
the wall for the elevator the back of his neck. Fool!
fifteenth floor! Pressed himself
against the wall, couldn't find the button, couldn't even find the elevator door,
and even the very wall was only
8
boomed in the small cage. came the certain reply. The five men laughed. The girl feigned indifference. The fetor of fart
Carruther's big voice
"Mart
fahred-it!"
Martin flushed.
vapours reeked in the tight elevator. "Martin,
damn
Martin fixed
it,
his
cut the fartinM" cool gaze
on them. "Carruther fucks
mother," he said firmly. Carruther hit glasses splintered
He
and
fell,
elbowed him, and he slipped
it
to the floor.
didn't
He
come. Someone
knelt there, weeping
searched with his hands for his glasses. Martin tasted the
blood from his nose, trickling into his mouth. glasses, couldn't
"Look tryin'
full in the face, his
Martin staggered back against the wall.
waited for the second blow, but
softly,
him
his
even
a free
couldn't find the
see.
out, baby!"
to git
He
Carruther thundered. "Farty Marty's
jist
peek up at your pretty drawers!" Crash of
laughter. Martin felt the girl shrink
from him.
THE ELEVATOR
Her
133
sponge into his groin. No, safer on your
soft belly presses like a
back, love, he thinks, but pushes the thought away. She weeps in terror, presses her
hot wet
mouth
To calm
against his.
her,
her soft buttocks, strokes them soothingly. So sudden they seem suspended in
air.
She has removed her
he clasps
the plunge,
is
How
skirt.
will
it
he wonders.
feel ?
10 Martin, without so
much
on
it,
automatically takes the
self-service elevator to the fourteenth floor,
where he works. The
as reflecting
what cracks
systematizing, that's what's wrong, he concludes, that's
them
up.
He
is
but only by a few minutes. Seven others join
late,
him, anxious, sweating. They glance nervously
None
of
them
presses the
"B" button.
at their watches.
Civilities are hurriedly inter-
changed.
Their foolish anxiety seeps out
He
like a
bad
finds himself looking often at his watch,
the elevator.
Take
it
spirit,
enters Martin.
grows impatient with
he cautions himself. Their blank faces
easy,
oppress him. Bleak. Haunted. Tyrannized by their
own
regimentation of time. Torture self-imposed, yet in
all
inescapable.
The
They frown.
woman
enters.
all
motions
to incite the doors to close.
woman
truly
remarks
resumes
its
probability
elevator halts jerkily at the third floor, quivering
their sallow face-flesh.
of the
arbitrary
They
No
They
(she has delayed them,
—to
upward
one has pushed the
nod, harumph,
—her
himself
struggle.
make are
damn
all
little
more or
less
A
hand aware
her!), but only Martin
whole presence,
The
three.
jittery
as
the
accretion of tragedy.
It
elevator
goes on,
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
134
ever giving birth to
itself.
Up
and down, up and down. Where
end? he wonders. Her perfume
will
gloomily in the
stale air.
These deformed browbeaten mind-animals. Suffering and
insuffer-
it
able.
Up
and down.
He
floats
closes his eyes.
One by
one, they leave
him.
He
arrives, alone, at the fourteenth floor.
elevator, stares
back into
its
peace, he concludes wearily.
He
steps out of the old
spent emptiness. There, only there,
The elevator
is
doors press shut.
11
Here on this elevator, my elevator, created by me, moved by me, doomed by me, I, Martin, proclaim my omnipotence! In the end, doom touches all! MY doom! I impose it! TREMBLE!
12
The
elevator shrieks insanely as
it
together, hands grasp, her vaginal rigid organ.
Their
lips lock,
drops. Their naked bellies slap
mouth
tongues knot.
they find them? Inwardly, he laughs.
meting
floor.
Her
eyes are
closes spongelike
He
brown and, with
The
thrusts
bodies:
up
tears, love
on
how
off the
his
will
plum-
him.
13
But—ah!—the doomed, old man, the DOOMED! What are they to us, to ME? ALL! We, I love! Let their flesh sag and dewlaps tremble, let their
enchain
—but
odors offend, let
let their cruelty mutilate, their stupidity
them laugh, father!
FOREVER! let them
cry!
THE ELEVATOR
135
14 but hey! theres
this
guy
see
he gets on the goddamn elevator and
famous how hes got him a doodang about kiddin you none
five feet
and he
gets
on the
—
a bastard like that boardin a friggin pubic
hoohah! no crux
he
is
—do with it
know
his
name Mert
I I
long
it? I
dont
know
I
Im
not
yeah! can you imagine
mean
public elevator?
think or Mort but the
possessed of this motherin digit biggern ole
is
see
carries
dont
I
five feet
its
think he wraps
it
around
Rahab
his leg or
over his shoulder or somethin jcczuss! what a problem!
why I bet hes \illt more poor bawdies than I ever dipped my poor worm in! once he was even a—listen! Carruther tells this as the goddamn truth I mean he respects that bastard—he was even one a them jackoff gods I forget how you call them over there with them Eyetalians after the big war see them dumb types when they seen him
furl out this here five foot hose of his
tryin to get the
goddamn
—he was just says —why they
one day
knots out Carruther
thought he musta been a goddamn jackoff god or somethin and
wanted
to like
Mort he
know
employ him or whatever you do with a god and well it to be a not so miserable occupation dont you
figgered
anyhow than oildrillin with it in Arabia or stoppin holes in Dutch dikes like hes been doin so the bastard he stays on there a time and them little quiff there in that Eyetalian place they grease him up with hogfat or olive oil and all workin together like vested virgins they pull him off out there in the fields and spray the crops and well Mort he says he says its the closest hes ever got to the better
real
mccoy
him
all
jeezuss! hes
the old aunts
worth a thousand laughs! and they bring splits them open a kinda
and grannies and he
stupendous euthanasia for the old ladies and he blesses friggin procreations with a swat of his little
all
their
doodang and even does
welldiggin on the side but he gets in trouble with the
churchers on accounta not bein circumcised and they wanta
a
Roman whack
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
136
it
but Mort says no and they cant get close to him with so
off
prodigious a batterin
ram
him and wrinkle up
his old
semen
so
work a few miracles on pud with holy water and heat up his fields and even one day ignites a goddamn
burns up the
it
as hes got so they
volcano and jeezuss! he wastes no time throwin that thing over his shoulder and hightailin
it
outa there
them
down damn
in elevators like the rest of us
the
pastoral days
is
can
I
sayin
tell
now
you! but
like
Im
dead and gone and hes goin up and
and
so here he
is
boardin the
cage and theys a bunch of us bastards clownin around with
little
piece
who
operates that deathtrap kinda brushin her swell
butt like a occasional accident
and hot and that lever
half fightin us off
and sweet jeezus her
and
half pullin us
zoom! wingin up through
gettin fidgety
on and playin with
that scraper
and
just
then ole
Carruther jeezuss he really breaks you up sometimes that crazy bastard he hefts up her little
mean ole
little
quiff aint wearin a sweet cleft
Mort he
is
no
purple skirt and whaddaya know! the
skivvies!
its
somethin beautiful
man
I
peach right outa some foreign orchard and poor
kinda part gigglin and part hurtin and for a minute
the rest of us dont see the pointa the whole agitation but then that
there incredible thing suddenly pops like the friggin eye of
god
up quivery
for crissake
and then
right
under
his chin
theres this big wild
up and splits outa there like a goddamn redwood topplin gawdamightyl and knocks old Carruther \apow\ rip
and man!
rears
it
right to the deck! his best
buddy and
that poor
little
cunt she takes
one glim of that impossible rod wheelin around in there and
whammin
the walls
and she
faints
dead away and jeeezusss! she
tumbles right on that elevator lever and man!
minute we was
all
I
thought for a
dead
15
They plunge,
their
in joy, the impact
damp
is
bodies fused, pounding furiously, in terror,
THE ELEVATOR
137
/,
Martin, proclaim against
all
dooms
the in-
destructible seed
Martin does not take the fourteenth
floor, as is his
self-service elevator to the
custom, but, reflecting upon
it
for once
and
out of a strange premonition, determines instead to walk the fourteen flights.
Halfway up, he hears
the elevator hurtle by
then the splintering crash from below. stair. it
stairs
him and on the
hesitates, poised
word he finally settles upon. He pronounces somewhat wearily, then continues his pausing from time to time to stare back down the
Inscrutable
is
the
aloud, smiles faintly, sadly,
tedious climb,
He
behind him.
ROMANCE OF THE THIN MAN AND THE FAT LADY Now, many
stories
have been
told,
and the Fat Lady. Not only coupling, but the
tall erect
is
to
there something comic in the
and bony
cloven mass of roseate flesh that
metaphors too apparent
is
be missed.
stature of the
the
To
Lady
it,
imagine a Thin Lady paired with a Fat Man.
crous,
it is
unpleasant.
less
is
It is
not ludithe
Thin
a circus legend full of truth. In fact,
than the ultimate image of
everyday romances, which are
also, let us confess,
We are all Thin Men. You are all Fat Ladies. 138
and the
one need only
No, the much recounted mating of
with the Fat Lady
hardly more or
Man
are in themselves
be sure of
try to
Man
Man
songs sung, about the Thin
all
our
it is
common
somehow
comic.
ROMANCE OF THE THIN MAN AND THE FAT LADY
139
But such simplicities are elusive; our metaphors turn on us, show us backsides human and complex. For observe them now the Thin Man slumps soup-eyed and stoop-shouldered, seeming not thin so much as ill, and the Fat Lady in her stall sags immobile and turned blackly into herself. A passerby playfully punches his thumb into her thigh, an innocent commonplace event, and she spits in his :
eye.
"Hey, lady!" "Right in his eye!
saw her!"
I
"What kinda circus
is this,
"She's probably not
fat, just
"Come,
anyway?" wearing a balloon
suit!"
darling, don't get too close to the Fat Lady, something's
wrong with her." Children
cry,
and
away
lovers, strangely disturbed, turn quickly
from them, seeking out the monkey
cage.
Whoo!
the
Image of
all
our Romances indeed!
Yet perhaps
—why
yes! surely!
—the
signs are unmistakable: a
third party has intruded.
Madame Cobra
the Snakecharmer ?
The Incredible Man with The Missing Link ? No, our
triangle
is
the
Double
more
of a
Joints?
sinister genius.
Our
villain
is
the
Ringmaster.
"We circus life
thought he'd understand. is
a
good
life,
but
it's
We
were open about
a tough one, too.
The
it.
A man's gotta be a
man." "Get
But he Hoesn't "I
the
was
air,
believe
me.
in the Strong
which
in
I
He moves
Man's
Thin
for a
when he comes
say:
Man
I
tent. I
on
in
my
pig.
us!
Okay, okay,
I say.
Can you imagine?"
had twenty-five pounds up
ain't bad.
Hey! look
muscle, says he, and kicks shouldn't do that.
The
Fat Lady, says he.
off that diet,
I'm pretty proud of
at that
poor
ass
muscle!
all
I'll
over that
it
in
and
show you tent.
He
got a very fragile spine."
"Tape measure,
calory charts, scales, everything. Don't take his
—
—
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
140
beady eyes
day or night.
off us
What're we supposed
can't exert hisself.
"Like animals,
that's
how
he
teeth, hefts her udders, slaps her scales.
No
heart at
You gotta
Eat!
It
comes
my Man
do?" Checks her
treats us. Livestock.
on the bare
nates
when
she's
on the
woman be a woman, I believe that."
to this, then: that
from fashion. The Thin to excite his
to
She's crying, but does he care? Eat! he says.
all.
a
let
allowed to sweat,
I ain't
Man
not even Ultimate Heroes are free
has wished to develop muscles, further
Fat Lady
"Builds stamina, too. Helps your wind."
her
And Man
the
Lady has attempted
to
reduce to be more appealing to
"And I had my heart to think about. You understand." Now, were the Ringmaster a philosopher, he might have
—
avoided the catastrophe the Truest, there
for, as in all true
a catastrophe.
is
He
romances, and surely in
might have been
able to
convince the couple with a merest syllogism of the absurdity
indeed the very contradiction!
from being
—of their
thus the best of villains!): he financier, a
respective wishes. But, far
a trafficker,
is
You want
philosophy?
Okay, okay, so they're romantic symbols,
what they symbolize, buddy,
old fraud Merlin the Prestidigitator said softsoap
me:
Who
symbols of their
can blame them
own?
if
I'll
I
give you philosophy!
understand
ain't
Beauty.
is.
being a symbol
:
But what the juc\
else
do you
it
It's
I'm not
like that
to try
and
they see outside themselves
There's something in
who wants
that,
when he came all
master, he says, that rebels against extremes. Hell,
And
is
a businessman, a
Keeper of the Holier Books.
"Philosophy!
stupid, but
(and
a philosopher, he indulges in the basest of trades
of us, Mr. RingI
can follow
anyway ? Narcissism,
thinly a circus is all
that.
that's all
it
about? Philos-
my ass! And the same goes for human nature! Want me to wreck my goddamn business? Listen! If the Fat Lady were not the fattest and the Thin Man the thinnest in the world ophy! Philosophy
we're talking
them.
Where
first
are
principles all
now, buster
—no one
would pay
to see
your goddamn noble abstractions when the
—
"
ROMANCE OF THE THIN MAN AND THE FAT LADY and we're
circus collapses
boys and
of us out
all
Expediency!
girls!
on the
Things do not work out
as well,
however,
The Fat Lady in her gloom waste away. The Thin Man stops
must be held
Adaptation,
streets?
And to hell with nature!"
has anticipated. begins to
141
in an upright position
all
and
eating altogether and
day by props.
Ringmaster, normally of such stable even
Ringmaster
as the
loses her appetite
And
even the
unpleasant temper,
if
grows inexplicably fidgety in the long fumbling nights alongside the couple's troubled bed.
"She can't
sleep, the
to soothe her best
I
poor dear. Whimpering
can, but
"One squeak of the bedsprings and on come "The man's a nut!"
"He
down
looks
at
all
night long.
I try
my hands, so to speak, are tied."
my Man
and
—
the lights!"
says: That's
one muscle too
many! And throws cold water on it "All night in a cold wet bed!"
At
last,
the Ringmaster negotiates a highly favorable contract of
exchange with a
rival circus,
dor from Mars and a small
by which he
sum
of
is
money
to acquire
for the
an Ambassa-
waning Fat Lady.
Another couple weeks, he thinks, and she would have been worthless.
Hoo
hee! a miraculous deal, a
work
of genius! Giggling sofdy
(and no doubt meanly) to himself, he drops comfortable slumber, the fretfully the
first
in weeks, the
off that night into a
bed beside him heaving
while with the parting anguish of the distraught lovers.
"It wasn't
murder,
it
was a revolution."
"A revolution of love I" As one, the "Now!"
entire
complement of the
circus arises at
midnight
"Freedom!" "Equality!"
"Clobber the fuckin lech!"
—summarily
executes
and
inters the
deserted country road (castrating circus people are
the
Thin Man
him
Ringmaster alongside the
symbolically in the process
born to symbology!), and
as Representatives of the
installs the
Fat Lady and
Common Proprietorship.
H2
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
"We were the
were last to
all
agreed.
The Thin Man and
the Fat Lady, in fact,
know."
"An Ambassador from Mars
indeed!
Did he think we had no
pride?"
So joy reigns in the circus for weeks. Every performance concludes with a party.
magically, attracting
ments, in turn, their
Man
The two lovers' happiness seems to radiate new masses of spectators, all of which aughappiness. It is indeed a paradise. The Thin
exercises without
pair of biceps.
compunction and quickly reaps a sturdy
The Fat Lady,
all
Thin Man, and within a week
the
little
aglow, switches calory charts with loses
one of her several chins.
Everyone, including the Thin Man, remarks on her beauty. Love the
word
of the day. Circus people are basically
is
good people. Their
hatred for their former Ringmaster subsides, the souvenir taken
from him
new
is
fed to the lions, and he
day, there "I
is
no place
is
soon forgotten altogether. In a
for old resentments.
mean, you go along
for years, see, thinking
you got a Ring-
master on accounta you gotta have one. Ever seen a circus without a
Ringmaster? No. Well, that
just goes to
show how
history can fake
you out!" "It
was
beautiful! All of
spontaneously, here, there,
it
it
just
happening! Acts coming on
was wild and
exciting
and unpredict-
able!"
"Suddenly
it
hits you, see. All
your
life
you been looking
at
and you say, that's how circuses are. But what if they ain't ? What if that's all a goddamn myth propagated by Ringmasters? You dig ? What if it's all open-ended, and we can, if we want to, live circuses
by love?"
"We even started enjoying each other's acts!" "I rode the elephant once!"
"Who
says clowns gotta take pratfalls alia time?
I
learned to
play in the band and train a bear and ride a horse through a fiery
hoop!" But, just
when
the picture
is
pinkest,
bad news:
too apparent that fewer people are visiting the
it
stalls
becomes of the
all
Thin
ROMANCE OF THE THIN MAN AND THE FAT LADY
Man
and the Fat Lady, and those
and with
do pass through, do
that
lover,
At
so hastily
little interest.
"Okay, so they're happy, so they're in one
143
you seen 'em
first,
The
everyone stubbornly disregards the signs.
and the
on, the songs
always, and the Fat
celebrations.
Lady
diets.
The Thin Man
was the romantic legend come
it
see
parties
go
lifts
weights as
Their glad hearts, though gnawed
a bit by apprehension, remain kindled by love and joy.
almost say
You
So what?
love.
all."
But
true.
One
at
could
finally they
can no longer ignore the black-and-white truth of the circus ledger,
now
in their care.
Somewhere, apparently, there
is
a fatter lady
new world threatens to crumble. wanna hurt their feelings, you know.
and
a thinner man. Their
"We them
a
didn't
little,
hoping they'd take the
We
kidded
hint."
"Why couldn't they just love each other for themselves ?" "For the good of the whole
circus,
we said."
In their van one night, doubt having doused for the the flame of passion, they agree: the Fat off corpulence, the
Thin Man
Lady
moment
will restore her cast-
will return his set of barbells to the
Strong Man. They re-exchange calory charts. They begin in earnest to
win back
ment, after It is
their public,
found
an integrant of
to be
their attach-
all.
not easy. Worried by business reverses, the Fat Lady must
And
Thin Man
work doubly hard
to lay
covers that his
knots of muscle tend to sag instead of disappear.
But they
little
are driven
the circus are
on each pound.
the
dis-
by the most serious determination. The eyes of
upon them. Momentary
reverses only steel
them more
to the task.
"Chocolates! For
"With
me?
It's
been so long!"
love."
"But now that you've seen
me
like this, will
you
truly love
me
when I'm fat again?" "To be honest, dear, I ain't sure I can even tell the difference." The worst part of the day for the Fat Lady comes when she steps
upon
the scales. Disgusted by her
fat,
she
is
disgusted she has
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
144
added
so
little
of
it.
The Thin Man
dutifully records her weight
each day, and his presence comes to
tongue when she succeeds. tears.
She would cry but
She refuses
perspire,
to increase
fails
submit
to
and even demands
He
her.
irritate
clucks his
and sighs wistfully when she
afraid of the loss of anything, even
is
any
to
which might make her
activity
and out of the van
that she be lifted in
each day.
The Thin Man
steps daily before a full-length mirror. Dis-
gusted by his thinness, he
is
pouches under his skin.
He
disgusted that he
frightening unfleshed bone.
lumps
little
that
were once
wears those
still
little
wishes to be mere bone. Hilarious
The Fat Lady nags and
pinches the
He
he has come
his muscles.
wonders
if
to hate her.
"Hold up your arm
how
cute! just like a
there, loverboy,
little
—hey!
lemme
feel that flab
oyster!"
And so what?"
"Yeah?
"So: oysters are a luxury, skinhead. People
may pay
to eat 'em,
but they won't pay just to look!"
The Fat Lady,
pointing out the Thin Man's bagginess, doubts
he has been firm in food.
and snoops about
his resolution,
The Man, grimly checking
the
Lady on
for
hidden
the scales each day,
begins to suspect her of burning off calories behind his back.
sneak into each other's
stalls
They
during the day, spy on one another
at
mealtimes, wrangle bitterly over the business books at night in their van. If one day the Fat
Lady
Thin Man, he must account
takes in a single
dime more than the
for his obvious inconstancy of will. If a
child carried past the Fat Lady's stall fails to laugh
the
Thin Man
to the circus
baggy Thin
if
uses
it
as proof of her deceptions.
not even a child
I
What
is
at her, is
she
worse than a
just
just laughs at
goddamn biceps overnight, they You can't exercise backwards, I tell
didn't build these
don't shrink overnight neither.
You
titillated?
use
Man who can't make a dime ?
"I'm sorry.
her.
is
and point
Of what
go limp and hope me.
"Think of
I
my
for the best.
But
I
do that and she
think she's got her eye on Daredevil Dick." nerves,
I tell
him.
If
they ain't fat nerves, he says,
ROMANCE OF THE THIN MAN AND THE FAT LADY I
145
got no use for them. All day, he's stuffing me. Even wants to add
One day he brings home this dumbbell. He's mean glint in his eye Nothing doing, I say. But it gives him idea. Maybe you oughta get pregnant, he says. That'd work for
intravenous feedings.
—
got a this
nine months,
I say,
but then what?
And
he gives
me
this strange
look."
The
situation deteriorates rapidly.
and morose,
The Thin Man becomes
head sunk
his shoulders stooped,
in dark thoughts.
Fat Lady, immobile and glum, goes so far
when
a passerby remarks that she
is
through the whole peanut
sales
And
drop
circus.
The
as to belch obscenely
They
really not so fat after all.
gloom spreads
quarrel without cease, and their
sour
like
wet sawdust
Gate receipts diminish and even the
ofT.
then one night, the Thin
Man moves
abruptly to the old
Ringmaster's van, something of a sacrifice on his part, since in the interim after
it
has been used by a pair of camels.
him
that she
is
devil Dick, though:
him go
glad to see
who
The Fat Lady
(it's
bellows
not true about Dare-
could think about love in times like
these?), as he stamps peevishly out of her van, the business books
smuggled under circus,
He
his shirt.
and before anyone
Ambassador from Mars
renegotiates the old deal with the rival
realizes
what has happened, they have an and the Fat Lady
in their midst
There are some unspecific rumbles of discontent, but wishes to be sold to the rival circus,
infamous for
its
known
to be
on
is
since
its last
gone.
no one
legs
and
corrupt and tyrannical Ringmaster, these rumbles
are held within discreet limits.
"Well,
had
it
to think
was the
was
all.
He
did what he had to do.
about the competition. They were
all
out to get
You
us. It
best thing for everybody."
"She was
seemed
a crisis, after
my
to care. I
best friend.
was
alone.
Everyone loved her. But no one
What could
I
say?"
"You get used to everything in this life." The Thin Man, in power, gains strength. He shoulders and
sets
about getting the circus back on
squares his
its feet.
ruthless with himself as he has learned to be ruthless with
He
is
others.
"
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
146
The
harder he works, the more rigorously he
and damn the world!
And
doing
distant, surrenders wearily to her fate and,
enough
to!
from her inseparable Thin Man! The Man's admirable
tents
will,
cannot but
and who can wander through dread? No, no,
Lady coupled with unhinged!
a Fat
A rescue
is
easy
mind why
"Even
The Fat Lady
separated
Thin
a circus without pleasure.
These are dismal shadowy
their
yawning
flaps
without a
Man! Our metaphor, with
time, has
come
called for!
Man
is
suddenly deposed,
or how.
"Taking everything
"We
so, finds it
worse even than the mythological Thin
it is
Let us suppose, then, that the Thin never
will be thin,
solution, for all the
fail. It is
are three rings of determination?
taste of
He
expand once again.
to
But wait! See what we have come
What
fasts.
even the unhappy Fat Lady, leagues
started
for himself."
growing a moustache, bought himself a whip!"
—
had a meeting and
Never mind. The Ambassador from Mars, unexpectedly popular,
assumes the Thin Man's functions, and the
exiled to the rival circus in exchange for a
Man
himself
is
Family of Webfooted
Midgets.
And
so here
we
go!
The Thin Man,
all
atremble and with tears
springing to his eyes, here he comes, rushing pell mell into the Fat
Lady's tent! All the circus people, the visiting crowds, the animals
run behind, snorting, whooping, laughing giddily. Whoopee! into her arms! and she clasps
him
bosom. Spectators weep for "Beautiful! In spite of
"See
how
"Oh! I'm
eagerly and forgivingly to her heaving
joy!
all
The image
is
made whole!
history!"
their joyful tears flow!" all
"He buries
weepy and
his
excited myself!"
head in her lap!"
"Hold me!" Later,
when
the world's love
is
momentarily spent and the
crowds have slipped weakly away, she makes a space for him
in her
—
"
ROMANCE OF THE THIN MAN AND THE FAT LADY van. It
little
corner in
is
it
rundown,
like this
rightly averred, a corrupt lief.
as all
is,
is
a
have
beyond be-
bastard, greedy
But, by staying very fat and very thin, respectively, they satisfy
pay them
too absorbed in his ledgers
is
notice.
Thus, though the prohibitive,
sacrifices
we have obeyed
have been considerable,
if
indeed not
the innocent bite in our forks
and held
our precious metaphor.
fast to
somehow,
Yet,
go
circus, yet there
Ringmaster
and mordant
daytime proddings, and by night he
his
to
whole decrepit
for happiness. This
still
147
strangely,
to the circus to see the
has
it
some of
lost
its
We
old charm.
Fat Lady and the Thin Man, and though
warmed by them, perhaps even amused and incited by them still, we home somehow dissatisfied. Fat, yes, the Fattest, and Thin but what is it? Maybe only that, as always, they are
nevertheless return
—
and that now, having gone
ludicrous,
we
them, crous
is
"After
all
.
more
somehow
—
all
right,
cute,
it's
it's
funny maybe,
."
Well,
Perhaps
let
us admit
we have
it,
ourselves who are corrupted. many Ringmasters, watched too too many thrills, counted through
perhaps
it is
seen or been too
many parades, safely witnessed too many books. Maybe it's just that in a
for us
we've done for them!"
"Thin Man, Fat Lady, .
such lengths to reunite
not also Beautiful.
"Like, well, like they oughta do
but
to
are irritated to discover their limits, to find that the Ludi-
world perplexingly simple. For,
gaily at the
Thin Man's
tense smile,
we've see,
lost a taste for the
there ?
There
simple
a child laughs
and there a young couple giggle
in front of the unctuous Fat Lady. So, w*hat the
-hell,
some
circus music, please!
and white horses and the clean cracking jacks! Peanuts!
And
a
monkey
to
wrap
Some
raging lions
of black whips! Cracker-
his tail
around the
flagpole!
For remember: these two, magic metaphor or no, are not the
whole this
circus.
Nor
—
to
matter of circuses,
borrow from the hoariest is life
spiel of
one. There are three rings
them
—in
all
"
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
148
"Lazygentamun, absolutely unique, arts, desolate wastes,
and hairy
—
this
way, patrons of the
deepest Injah, suckled by werewolves, nekkid
Yawone
"Raithiswhay, folks! She's half-human, half-reptile!
be-
lieve yer eyes!"
"Absolutely wild gotta stand back limited time only, getcha tickets here, before
son!
then there are more.
grasping, can hold
and must yet the Fat of
on human
flesh,
all
Lady
Who
No, we have
it!
and
will shrivel
die.
many
Man
more. Even the Thin
lose
can grasp
lost
alive
—
all?
it
things,
will
never
ya heard
and we don't know how long we can keep him
—And
now may me
goin inta the Big Top, see him
get another chance lives entirely
right,
!"
And who,
go on
losing,
grow old and
bent,
We can hang on to nothing. Least
the simple.
"This way, boyzungirls, inna the Big nit! still
plennya
Show
but goodwonzur goin
seats
startin in jusfimin-
fast! yessir
mistuh and
how many— ?" "Hey cottoncandy popcawn sodypop!" "Getcha soovuhnih booklet while they
quawtuhs of
home with
a dollah! Byootiful faw-color alia stars take a thrills
ya!"
"There they come! "Lass chance only fore the Big supply colors
nuts!
lasts
It's
now Show
the parade!"
folks gets
telly
one quawtuh
—
awhawgawnuhdo! limted time
madam
unnerway! pay tenshun
one quawtuh hurry!
you there
But
fifferadollah
alia thrillsnchills
Big
Top
let
swill the
faw
add extra bonus feachuh bagga
!"
listen! the losses! these too are ludicrous, aren't
us hoot
while
in
they? these
too are part of the comedy, right? a ring around the rings! So, it,
two
Fittysens
last!
and
holler
and
thrill
and
eat peanuts
damn
and cheer and
pop and laugh and bawl! Come on! All us Thin Men! All
you Fat Ladies!
"Annow lazygentamun anawyoo all
youngsters! (crack!) whatcha
been waiting for (crack!) inna the
Tumblin Twosome from Tuskyloosa
first
(crack!)
ring feachuh act the
givum
a
hand
folks!
ROMANCE OF THE THIN MAN AND THE FAT LADY (crack!) inna second
first
time
from (crack!) and riding on
this side a the Atlantic
149
comin
to us
a unicycle (crack!) whatsat rocket
you
carrying there George watchout! (crack!) and high above without a net those
flirters
with death (crack!) defying the lawza gravity it's a new secret weapon yer guvmint George? well howzit work? (crack!)
(drumrolls and whipcracks!) you say
workin on
for the
nothin but her teeth folks between her and the other world! (fanfare!)
don't
and tell
(crack!)
givum
his trained
me
thoroughbred Arabian hawses! (crack!)
and rode by the Thin
a big
now
you're gonna light that big thing in here George!
hand
Man
and the Fat Lady haw haw
folks (crack!) loo\ outl"
QUENBY AND
OLA,
SWEDE
AND CARL Night on the motor
for
lake.
A
low cloud
cover.
The
some reason dead. There's enough
see the obscure
humps
of islands a mile or
boat bobs
silently, its
light in the far sky to
two
distant,
but up close:
nothing. There are islands in the intermediate distance, but their uncertain contours are in fact, for the boat to
more
itself.
felt
From
than seen.
melt into the blackness of the lake.
Imagine Quenby and Ola gathering dusk.
150
The
at the
The same might
either end, the opposite It feels like it
barbecue
silence after the
pit.
might
be said,
end seems
rain.
Their faces pale in the
sudden report broken only by
QUENBY AND OLA, SWEDE AND CARL whine of mosquitos
the
Quenby has apparently house, but Ola
looking
at,
is
in
the
151
damp
tried to turn
grass,
a distant whistle.
Ola away, back toward the
What
staring back over her shoulder.
Swede or
the cat?
Can she even
is
she
see either?
bow sat Carl. Carl was from the city. He came north to the every summer for a week or two of fishing. Sometimes he came
In the lake
along with other guys,
He away,
this year
he came alone.
always told himself he liked
that's
what he
it
told the fellows he
the old harness, he'd say.
But he wasn't
up on the
worked with, sure.
now, on a pitchblack lake with a
Just
nowhere, cold and hungry and no
was
pretty sure he didn't like
You know
lake, liked to get
fish to
too
Maybe he
stalled
show
:
get out of
didn't like
it.
motor, miles from for the long day,
he
it.
the islands are out there, not
more than a couple hun-
dred yards probably, because you've seen them in the daylight. All
you can make out now
is
here and there the pale stroke of what
probably a birch trunk, but you pines as well,
and balsam
firs
know
there are
and white cedars and Norway pines
and even maples and tamaracks. Forests have collapsed upon
on
is
spruce and jack
forests
these islands.
The
old springs crush and grate like crashing limbs, exhausted trees,
rocks tumbling into the bay, like the lake
branches and pine needles. She ful.
is
wind
rattling
through dry
hot, wet, rich, softly spread.
Need-
"Oh yes!" she whispers.
Walking on
the islands, you've noticed saxifrage
clintonia, shinleaf,
and stemless
lady's slippers.
and
bellwort,
Sioux country once
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
152
upon
a time, you've heard
and Algonquin, mostly Cree and
tell,
Ojibwa. Such things you know. Or the names of the birds up here: spruce grouse and whiskey jack and American
like
woodpecker. Blue-headed tion. Just
three-toed
vireo. Scarlet tanager. Useless informa-
now, anyway. You don't even know what makes
that
strange whisde that pierces the stillness now.
"Say, what's that whistling sound, whistle!"
traffic
That was
Swede? Sounds like a goddamn Swede didn't laugh.
pretty funny, but
Didn't say anything. "Some bird,
I
guess. Eh,
Swede? Some god-
damn bird." Swede said finally. "Squirrels!" Carl was glad Swede had
"Squirrels,"
he knew he was
still
back
My
there.
Jesus,
said something. it
hopefully for another response from Swede, but
it
At
He
was dark!
least
waited
didn't come.
"Learn something new every day."
Ola, telling the story, laughed brightly. her.
What had
she seen that night ?
There were more lemon being
pies
and
at the center of attention
It
The
others laughed with
didn't matter,
there were
and she
more
it
was long ago.
cats.
She enjoyed
told the story well, imitating
her father's laconic ways delightfully. She strode longleggedly across the livingroom floor at the
main house, gripping an imaginary
her face puckered in a comic scowl.
under the orange
shirt,
Only her flowering
her young hips packed snugly in
bright white shorts, her soft girlish thighs, slender calves
:
cat,
breasts
last year's
these were
not Swede's.
She
is
light
an obscure teasing shape,
now
on the bay, now blending with
shattering the sheen of it.
Is
moon-
she moving toward
the
QUENBY AND OLA, SWEDE AND CARL shore,
toward the house? No, she
the docks, dipping in
By
day, there
is
153
in
is
by the boats near the end of
among shadows. You
follow.
a heavy greenness, mostly the deep dense greens of
shadowed undergrowth, and glazed blues and the whiteness of rocks and driftwood. At night, there is only darkness.
pines and
Branches scrape gently on the roof of the guests' lodge; sometimes squirrels
scamper across
it.
There are bird
the rustle of porcupines and muskrats,
sounds
like the
the burping of frogs,
and now and then what
crushing footfalls of deer. At times, there
sound of wind or
waves snapping in the bay. But
rain,
deep
stillness prevails,
And
often,
from
calls,
a stillness and darkness
far out
on the
is
the
essentially a
unknown
to the city.
lake, miles out perhaps, yet clearly
ringing as though just outside the door: the conversation of
men
in
fishing boats.
"Well,
guess you
I
know
your way around
this lake pretty well.
Eh,
Swede?"
"Oh yah." "Like the back of your hand,
I
guess." Carl felt
somehow
encouraged that Swede had answered him. That "oh yah" was Swede's trademark.
He
usually just "oh yah."
almost never talked, and
Up
when he
did,
it
was
on the "oh," down on the "yah." Swede
was bent down over the motor, but what was he looking at? Was at the motor or was he looking back this way? It was
he looking hard
to
tell.
"It all looks the
and sky/ and now you
make
squirrels sure
same
to
me,
and water
just a lot of trees
can't even see that
much. Those goddamn
a lot of noise, don't they?" Actually, they were
probably miles away. Carl sighed and cracked his knuckles.
here?"
Maybe
it
was
better
up
here in the
"Can you hunt ducks up fall or winter. Maybe he
could get a group interested. Probably cold, though.
enough
right
now. "Well,
I
suppose you
It
can. Sure, hell,
was cold
why
not?"
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
154
Quenby
back
he's
barbecue
at the
pit, grilling steaks.
diluted one for
He
two long weeks away.
after
whiskey for himself, splashed a
Quenby.
little
Flames
from the burning
fat billows
lick
The
late
solid
about hunting full
a
more
pit.
and smoke
Quenby wears
and a
pants,
soft leather jacket.
evening sun gives a gentle rich glow to the leather. There
something
Her
mixed
at the steaks,
the
those relaxed faded bluejeans probably,
it,
drink and spreads himself
and snap
up from
has poured a glass of
water in
He hands her her
into a lawnchair.
Thick T-bones, because
and good about Quenby. Most
trips.
women
Quenby bakes lemon pies to celebrate denim as, with tongs,
buttocks flex in the soft blue
is
complain returns.
she
flips
the steaks over. Imagine.
Her
hips
jammed
against the gunwales, your
wet bodies sliding
—you
wonder
together, shivering, astonished, your lips meeting
your madness, what an island can do to a man, what an island
at
girl
can do. Later, having crossed the bay again, returning to the rocks,
you find your underwear very tree time.
Yes, here's the path, here's the
gone.
is
—but gone. A childish prank
Swede was
a native of sorts.
He
and
round on an island up here on the small rustic lodge for hunt.
men from
Swede took them out
kept the cabin up. They time.
?
But she was with you
all
the
Down by the kennels, the dogs begin to yelp.
They moved here
natives, folks
How
far
is
was
lake.
the city
Quenby
lived year-
They operated
who came up
to the best places,
could take care of as
a kind of
to fish
and
Quenby cooked and
many
as eight at a
years ago, shortly after marrrying. Real
born and bred on the
old daughter Ola
his wife
lake, are pretty rare; their 14-year-
one of the few. it
to
Swede's island? This
is
a better question
QUENBY AND OLA, SWEDE AND CARL maybe than "Who
155
Swede?" but you are even less sure of the answer. You've been fishing all day and you haven't been paying much attention. No lights to be seen anywhere, and Swede always keeps a dock light burning, but you may be on the back side of his island, cut off from the light by the thick pines, only yards away from home, so to speak. Or maybe miles away. Most likely miles.
Yes,
goddamn
it, it
is
was going
to rain. Carl
sucked on a beer in the
bow. Swede tinkered quietly with the motor in the
What made was okay here
a
guy move up
maybe a week
for
or two, but he couldn't see living
the time. Well, of course,
all
and hunt.
If
a
if
man
he didn't like the ratrace in the
really loved to fish. city,
a bitch for Swede's wife and kid, though. Carl
would never stand
still
stern.
into these parts ? Carl wondered. It
for the idea.
and
so on.
knew
And Swede was
his
up
Fish
Must be
own
wife
probably pretty
hard on old Quenby. With Swede there were never two ways about it.
That's the idea Carl got.
Carl tipped the can of beer back, drained disgusted him. it
He
heaved the empty
tin
plunk somewhere on the black water.
not. It probably didn't sink.
he should do pissing
it
from the
of things
He'd have
Stale
and warm.
It
out into the darkness, heard
He
couldn't see
sank or
if it
to piss again soon. Probably
moving again. He way he even enjoyed it, he
before they got boat, in a
it.
up here when he was pissing from a
didn't
mind
felt like
boat, but right
part
now
it
seemed too quiet or something.
Then he it
got to worrying that
maybe he
shouldn't have thrown
out there on the water, that beercan, probably there was some law
and anyway you could get things like that caught in boat motors, couldn't you? Hell, maybe that was what was wrong with about
the
it,
goddamn motor now. He'd
probably.
showing
just shown his ignorance again That was what he hated most about coming up here,
his ignorance. In
green and could joke about again.
groups it,
it
wasn't so bad, they were
but Carl was
all
alone this
trip.
all
Never
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
156
The Coleman
lantern
is lit.
starched white linens
Her
flesh
glows in
are ominously
alive
its
eery light and the
with their thrashing
shadows. She has brought clean towels; or perhaps some
coffee, a
book. Wouldn't look right to put out the lantern while she's here, but
its
The springs
fierce
gleam
clatter
is
and something
scurries
down
boughs scratch the
disquieting. Pine
roof.
under the cabin. "Hurry!"
she whispers.
"Listen, Swede,
up
stood
going
in a
to step
you need some help?" Swede didn't
kind of crouch and made a motion back and give a hand.
out back there.
He
He
reply, so Carl
though he were
as
could barely
make Swede
stayed carefully in the middle of the boat.
He
wasn't completely stupid.
Swede grunted. Carl took it to mean he didn't want any help, so he sat down again. There was one more can of beer under his seat, but he didn't much care to drink it. His pants, he had noticed on rising and sitting, were damp, and he felt stiff and sore. It was late.
The
truth was, he didn't
know
the
first
goddamn
thing about out-
board motors anyway.
There's this story about Swede. Ola liked to
well About three years ago,
when Ola was
back from a two-week hunting the story,
would make
trip
tell it
eleven,
up north. For ducks. Ola,
a big thing about the beard he
with and the jokes her mother made about
heaped green
salad.
wrapped
Quenby 's homemade lemon It
in foil
And lemon pie,
pie.
told
it
telling
came back
it.
Quenby had welcomed Swede home with thick T-bones, potatos
and she
Swede had come
a big steak supper:
and baked
Nothing
and she'd baked
was a great supper. Ola skipped most of the
in the coals, a
in the it
world
just for
details,
like
Swede.
but one could
QUENBY AND OLA, SWEDE AND CARL
157
imagine them. After supper, Swede said he'd bring in the pie and coffee.
In the kitchen, he discovered that Ola's cat had tracked through
was riddled with cat over the bench and floor. Daddy
the pie. Right through the middle of tracks,
and there was lemon pie
had been looking forward
would
say,
He shells
and now
it
was
all
to that
it.
It
lemon
pie for
two weeks, Ola
full of cat tracks.
picked up his gun from beside the back door, pulled some
out of his jacket pocket, and loaded
it.
He
found the
cat in the
laundryroom with lemon pie
still stuck to its paws and whiskers. up by the nape and carried it outside. It was getting dark, but you could still see plainly enough. At least against the
He
picked
it
sky.
He
walked out past the barbecue
pit. It
was dark enough
the coals seemed to glow now. Just past the
pit,
he stopped.
that
He
swung his arm in a lazy arc and pitched the cat high in the air. Its four paws scrambled in space. He lifted the gun to his shoulder and blew the cat's head off. Her daddy was a good shot.
Her mock nary
cat,
pout, as she strides across the room, clutching the imagi-
makes you laugh. She needs a new
they were loose
on
her,
gaping around her small thighs. But
young
girls
her age do.
When
notice that the zipper gapes in
white cloth is
is
taut
pair of shorts. Last year
wrinkled where bunched she's
grown,
at
filled
the waist,
out a
lot,
as
her shirt rides up over her waist, you
an open
V
above her hip bone.
The
and glossy over her firm bottom; the only wrinkle
the almost painful crease between her legs.
Carl scrubbed his beard.
was
still
new.
He
It
was
pretty bristly, but that
was because
it
could imagine what his wife would say. He'd kid
his face into a serious
frown and
tell
her, hell,
he was figuring on
keeping the beard permanendy now. Well, he wouldn't, of course,
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
158
he'd feel like an ass at the office with
it
on, he'd just say that to
rile
Though, damn it, he did enjoy the beard. He wished more guys where he worked wore beards. He liked to scratch the back of his hand and wrist with it.
his wife a
little.
"You want this last beer, Swede?" he asked. He didn't get an answer. Swede was awful quiet. He was a quiet type of guy. Reticent, that's how he is, thought Carl. "Maybe Quenby's baked a pie," he
said,
hoping he wasn't being too obvious. Sure was taking one
helluva long time.
He
lifts
the
hem
up
of his tee shirt off his hairy belly,
his chest,
but
she can't seem to wait for that— her thighs jerk up, her ankles lock
behind his buttocks, and they crash to the bed, the old springs shrieking and
thumping
arriving trains. His legs
like a speeding
subway,
traffic
and buttocks, though pale and
at
noon,
flabby,
dark against the pure white spectacle of the starched
seem
sheets, the
glow of her full heaving body, there in the harsh blaze of the Coleman lantern. Strange, they should keep it burning. His short
flushed
beard scrubs the hollow of her throat, his broad hands knead
stiff
flesh.
She
rhythmically against
his.
her trembling
You
sighs,
whimpers, pleads, as her body
"Yes!" she
turn silently from the window.
arrive,
you find Ola washing
What
did
slaps
cries hoarsely.
At
the house,
when you
dishes.
Quenby talk about ? Her garden probably, pie baking, the neighbors. About the wind that had come up one night while he'd been gone, and how she'd had to move some of the boats around. His two-week beard: looked have
to sleep
down with
giggle, imagining her
Quenby would probably
like a
the dogs
if
said.
he didn't cut
Ola would
it off.
daddy sleeping with the dogs. And, talk about Ola, about the things she'd
or said while he was away,
He'd
darned broom, she
what she was doing
yes,
done
in sixth grade, about
QUENBY AND OLA, SWEDE AND CARL
159
her pets and her friends and the ways she'd helped around the place.
Quenby
at the barbecue pit, her full backside to
the steaks, sipping the whiskey, talking about
maybe not
talking at
setting the table.
here.
Or swimming down by
The sun now an
on the
life
Just watching the steaks
all.
him, turning island.
Or
maybe. Ola inside
the docks.
A
good thing
orangish ball over behind the pines. Water
lapping at the dock and the boats, curling up on the shore, some
minutes
Down
after a boat passes distantly.
at the kennels, the
them outside rest.
their pen.
there.
The
cat
The dogs had worked
Mentally, he gave the cat a boot in the
the dogs, but later he
flames and the smoke.
dogs were maybe making a ruckus. Maybe
had wandered down
Ola's cat
The
would take
had
a habit of teasing
hard, they deserved a
He
ribs.
the steak bones
had already fed
down.
Quenby's thighs brush together when she walks. In denim, they
Not
whistle; bare, they whisper.
together (they rarely are), there
so, Ola's. is
Even with her knees
space between her thighs.
A
pressure there, not of opening, but of awkwardness.
Perhaps, too, island born, her walk
weight
is
settled solidly
is
there, easily, calmly, weightlessly. Ola's center
narrow shoulders, somewhere
and her quick astonished her knees, her toes.
still
is
still
in the midst of her fine
stride
Quenby 's
movement; her daughter
Her
different.
mother's
beneath her buttocks; she moves out from
is
guided by the
arches uneasily out
strange outcropping of pale fur that peeks out
is
new
breasts,
her hipbones,
tips of
thick black cushion
between her
a rich locus of
and away from the
now
at the inner
edges of the white shorts. It is difficult for
a
man to be
alone on a green island.
Carl wished he had a cigarette. He'd started out with cigarettes, but he'd got
all
excited once
when he hooked
a
goddamn
fish,
and they
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
160
had
all spilled
the
damn
line
good
it
Swede
all.
To at
—a
tell
My
the truth, even
Swede's with
its
stale
home, the
real
bass.
worse,
broke his
A poor
more than
and
day,
a cigarette, he wished he
A hot supper. A bed. Even that breezy
peculiar noises filled
home,
—had
Jesus, the only strike he'd got all day,
Swede had caught two. Both
up!
What was
said
all
didn't smoke.
drink.
stiff
Swede had
great northern,
and got away.
he'd messed in
out on the wet bottom of the boat.
fish
terrific
a
empty lodge
damp longing. Not
piney smell and cold
him with a TV, friends
had
sheets to
and
mention
own
over for bridge or poker, his
electric blanket.
"Sure to
is
awful dark,
ain't it?"
Carl said "ain't" out of deference
Swede. Swede always said "ain't" and Carl liked
when he was up
here.
He
to talk that
and say
liked to drink beer
"ain't"
He
don't" and stomp heavily around with big boots on.
way
and "he
even found
Swede did. Up on the "oh," down on the "yah." Carl wondered how it would go over back at the office. They might even get to know him by it. When he was dead, they'd say: "Well, just like good old Carl used to say: oh himself saying "oh yah!" sometimes, just like
yah!"
He
drank the whiskey and
In his mind, he watched the ducks
fall.
watched the steaks and
Quenby and watched
fall.
They
didn't just
listened to
plummet, they
fluttered
times they did seem to plummet, but in his that kept trying to
happening. of the
fall
It
that
fly,
the ducks
and flopped. Some-
mind he saw
the ones
kept trying to understand what the hell was
was the rough
made him
flutter
like to
Swede, Quenby, Ola, Carl
.
.
sound and the
soft loose splash
hunt ducks.
.
Having
a drink
after
the livingroom around the fireplace, though there's no
supper, in fire
Ola's not drinking, of course. She's telling a story about her
in
it.
daddy
QUENBY AND OLA, SWEDE AND CARL and a
cat. It is
161
easy to laugh. She's a cute girl. Carl stretches. "Well,
off to the sack, folks.
Thanks
for the terrific supper. See
morning, Swede." Quenby: "Swede or Carl. I forgot to put
any
I'll
you in the
bring you fresh towels,
morning."
this
You know what's going on out here, don't you? You're not that stupid. You know why the motor's gone dead, way out here, miles from nowhere. You know the reason for the silence. For the wait. Dragging it out. Making you feel it. After all, there was the missing morning sunlight either. But what could a man do ? You remember the teasing buttocks she dogpaddled away, the taste of her wet belly on the gunwales
underwear. Couldn't find
as
it
in the
of the launch, the terrible splash
to
The
bass.
fell.
You had
a sudden vision of a
hooked through
a cheek, eyes glazed
stringer felt oddly weighted. at the
end of
over, childish limbs adrift.
You forget it. You
it,
What do you do
with a vision
setting. Ola's cat rubs
the big feed
Scouts, eats
up against
talks
and he
cat's ears
is
He
lifts
one
with the toe of his boot. Deep-throated
and
sits
down
at the dining-
about town gossip, Ola talks about school and
He
tells
how he
Golden Gate Bridge,
she's
A
about shooting ducks.
with enthusiasm.
Sawyer, things
Outside, the sun
the ducks get cleaned. Brownnoser.
talks
explains about the
drinks on the way.
his leg. Probably contemplating
£rins, carries the drinks in
room table. Quenby
He
when
and scrubs the
He
like that?
try to.
They go in to supper. He mixes a couple more The whiskey plup-plup-plups out of the bottle.
purr.
half-
paddle the boat to the nearest shore and cook up the two
long cold body
foot
Awhile ago, you
You were hungry and you were
gave a tug on the stringer.
tempted
when you
pretty
got the
happy
first bird,
cross-pollination,
been reading in school.
situation.
and Ola
and
Tom
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
162
He
for the pie,
and
and
cleans his plate
Quenby
thing.
and he
replies that
have space for ten
still
on seconds and
piles
him
smiles to see
He
room
to save
he could put away a herd of elephants
pies.
Ola laughs
has a nice laugh. Ungainly as she pretty girl, he decides.
thirds of every-
She warns him
eat.
gaily at that.
now,
just
is
drinks his whiskey
off,
She sure
going
to
be a
announces
he'll
she's
bring in the pie and coffee.
How the
good
it
had
stiff sheets,
felt!
In spite of the musty odors, the rawness of
gaudy
the
brilliance of the
Coleman
lantern, the
anxious haste, the cool air teasing the hairs on your buttocks, the
scamper of squirrels across the
the hurried by-passing of
roof,
and jacket and pants
preliminaries (one astonishing kiss, then shirt
had dropped away you
in teeshirt
Lunging
in
one nervous gesture, and down you'd gone,
and socks
still)
recklessly into that
hungering over her
flesh,
:
once
it
steaming
began,
softness,
it
was wonderful!
your lonely hands
her heavy thighs kicking up and up, then
slamming down behind your knees, hips rearing up her voice rasping: "Hurry!"
—everything
how good! And then
And you
she was gone.
staring half-dazed at the
Coleman
dampness with your
lay in
smoking
trip, idly
You
shorts.
how
good,
your teeshirt and socks,
lantern,
thinking about tomorrow's fishing groin's
off the sheets,
else forgotten,
a cigarette,
sponging away your
stubbed out the cigarette,
pulled on your khaki pants, scratchy on your bare and agitated skin,
The light leaking out your shuttered You went to stand there, and through the
slipped out the door to urinate.
window caught your broken
shutter,
watched yourself
up toward
the
eye.
you stared
at
there. Well.
Well.
the
main house, through
Ola's head in the kitchen
window.
You know. You know.
bed,
You
the
pissed
roughed-up
on the
the pines. Dimly,
sheets,
wall, staring
you could
see
QUENBY AND OLA, SWEDE AND CARL "Listen, uh,
Swede
.
163
."
.
"Yah?" "Oh, nothing. better start putting
I
mean,
my
whatever the hell you
well,
shoulder call
what to,
them.
I
maybe
started to say was,
I
you know, one of the paddles or
—well, unless you're sure you can
I
get it-"
"Oh yah. "Well
I'm sure." ."
.
.
Swede, Carl, Ola, Quenby
Swede or
.
.
.
one or both of them do return
Or perhaps Swede
there ?
One
more may soon be dead.
or
Carl, for example, in revenge or lust or self-defense.
his presence.
A man
is
what
to the island,
And
if
will they find
long since dead, and Carl only imagines
can imagine a
lot
of things, alone on a strange
lake in a dark night.
Carl,
Quenby, Swede, Ola
dinner sleepiness on
Nothing
all
.
.
Drinks in the livingroom.
of them. Except Ola.
like fresh lake bass.
ever hear about
.
Daddy and
And
two weeks
Listen
man
:
.
.
after-
Wonderful supper.
Quenby's lemon
pie.
"Did you smile.
Ola
Daddy had been away
for
the cat?" Ola asks.
perches forward on the hassock. "Well,
An
"No!" All
."
al6ne, far
from your
wife,
nobody even
to play
poker with, a
does foolish things sometimes. You're stretched out in your
underwear on an uncomfortable bed in the middle of the night;
for
example, awakened perhaps by the footfalls of deer outside the cabin, or the whistle of squirrels, the cry of loons, unable sleep.
You
lodge.
There seems
step out, barefoot, to urinate to
be someone
now
to
by the front wall of the
swimming down
in the bay, over
"
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
164
near the docks, across from the point here.
No
lights
up
at the
main
house, just the single dull bulb glittering as usual out on the far end of the dock, casting
You pad
no
A bright moon.
light.
down toward
quietly
hoping the dogs don't wake. She
away from
the bay,
swimming
is
the kennels,
way. She reaches
this
up on them, then stands
the rocks near the point here, pulls herself
on the way
shivering, her slender back to you, gazing out
she's
come, out toward the boats and docks, heavy structures crouched in the
moonglazed water. Pinpricks of bright moonlight sparkle on the
crown
of her head, her
narrow shoulders and shoulderblades, the
crest of her buttocks, her calves
Hardly thinking, you
and
slip off
the house, then creep out
heels.
your underwear, glance once
on the rock beside
her.
at
"How's the
water?" you whisper.
She huddles over her you.
"It's better in
with the
You cleft
against,
and dip your
elbows, at the young
ringers in the water. Is
girl's
flat
dark shivering
lips.
drifting
She, too, seems
between two black
is
islands. Carl squinted
matches here
Swede, you need a light? if
I
you
pretty stupid.
the islands were. Didn't matter anyway.
— they're not wet
self-
smile. "It's okay,"
concentrated, but he couldn't see the shores, couldn't guess
listen,
clutched
now, presenting you only her
have a daughter just your age." Which
They were
tummy and
gleaming
bony knees and shoulders, trembling, and her
away
it
fine droplets of water, catching the moonlight,
conscious, for like you, she squats
"Hey,
little
hardly notice, for you are glancing back up now, past the
nub where
bejewel the soft down, past the
say, "I
but smiles up at
her teeth chattering a
stoop to conceal, in part, your burgeoning excitement,
which you'd hoped hard
says,
chill.
You cold ?
breasts, a little surprised,
than out," she
how
and far
Nobody on them.
think
I
still
got some
QUENBY AND OLA, SWEDE AND CARL "No,
sit
Well,
down.
." moment and think, goddamn it, you
Just be a
hell, stop
165
.
.
match around a gasoline motor. "Well,
I
didn't carry a flashlight.
up here on a lake
these years
goddamn
along a
He
flashlight.
wondered
Maybe he wasn't so bright,
A
little
Carl
man
Jesus, a
after
live
to take
all.
Swede's wife wasn't worrying about them by
if
good cook, probably
My
."
.
.
and doesn't know enough
now. Well, she was probably used type really.
thought
just
wondered why Swede all
can't stick a lighted
to
it.
A
woman,
nice
pretty well built in her day,
friendly, a
though not
too slack in the britches. Skinny
little
Carl's
daughter,
looked more like Swede. Filling out, though. Probably be a cute girl in a couple years. Carl got the idea vaguely that
wife, didn't really like
blame
here.
Too
Quenby, Swede's
lonely or something. Couldn't
her.
He knew a
up
it
it
was a screwy notion, but he kept wishing there was
goddamn neon
light or
something around.
He
fumbled under the
seat for the other beer.
"I asked
Daddy why he
my
shot
cat," she said.
She stood
at the
opposite end of the livingroom, facing them, in her orange shirt and
bright white shorts, thin legs apart. lips
It
was a sad question, but her
were smiling, her small white teeth
imitated her daddy lobbing the cat off. " 'Well,
head threw
it
up
honey,
in the air,
gave
I
and
if it'd
it
up
glittering gaily. She'd just
in the air
and blowing
a sporting chance,' he
flown away,
I
said.
She joined in the general laughter, skipping awkwardly,
ishly,
back to the group.
She
slips into
is
a
good
in
girl-
story.
the water without a word,
narrow bottom bobbing house
was
'I
wouldn't have shot
it!'"
It
its
and out of
and dogpaddles away, her sight.
What
the hell, the
dark, the dogs silent: you drop into the water
—wow!
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
166
sudden breathtaking impact of the
icy envelope!
whoopee!
—and
follow her, a dark teasing shape rippling the moonlit surface.
You
expect her to bend her course in toward the shore, toward
the house, and, feeling suddenly exposed and naked and foolish in the middle of the bright bay, in spite of your hunger to see her again, out of the water,
But, no, she
is
you pause, prepare
in by the boats, near the
ing into the wrap of shadows.
water to the docks
—a
You
to return to the point.
end of the docks, disappear-
sink out of sight,
long stretch for a
man
swim under-
your age
—and
find
her there, holding onto the rope ladder of the launch her father uses for guiding large groups.
The house
is
out of sight, caution out
of mind.
She
up the ladder and you follow close behind, her legs brushing your face and shoulders. At the gunwales, she emerges into full moonlight, and as she bends forward to crawl into the launch, drugged by the fantasy of the moment, you lean up to kiss her glistening buttocks. In your throbbing mind is the foolish idea that, if she protests, you will make some joke about your beard.
He
pulls herself
punched the can and the beer exploded out. He ducked just in it in his ear. "Hey! Did I get you, Swede?" he
time, but got part of
Swede didn't say anything. Hell, it was silly even to ask. The beer had shot off over his shoulder, past the bow, the opposite direction from Swede. He had asked only out of habit. Because he didn't like the silence. He punched a second hole and put the can to his lips. All he got at first was foam. But by tipping the can almost straight up, he managed a couple swallows of beer. At first, he laughed.
moment later, the flat warm yeasty taste sliming his mouth, he wondered why the hell he had opened it up. He considered dumping the rest of it in the lake. But, damn it, Swede would hear him and wonder why he was doing it. This time, thought
it
tasted good, but a
though, he would remember and not throw the empty can away.
QUENBY AND OLA, SWEDE AND CARL Swede, Quenby, Carl, Ola to bed.
The
girl
.
.
.
The
167
and the laughter and off from her story. After her
story
has omitted one detail
daddy's shot, the cat had plummeted to the earth. But afterwards, there
was
night,
it
a fluttering
sound on the ground where
Squirrels whistle
and scamper. There
skunks, and porcupines. surely
by
it hit. Still,
late at
caused her wonder. Branches scrape softly on the roof.
rain.
And, from
A
profound
far out
is
a rustling of beavers, foxes,
stillness,
on the
lake,
arguing, chattering, opening beercans. Telling
soon to be broken
men
in fishing boats,
stories.
THE SENTIENT LENS Scene jor" Winter"
No
sound,
it
gets
going with utter
silence,
no sound except perhaps
an inappreciable crackle now and then, not unlike readily compensates for
sound, stretches there
itself,
evenly,
how
it starts.
silently,
no more than
or perhaps the earth
168
but our ear
reaches out past any staticky imperfections
finds: only the silence.
And
that's
infinitesimal flecks of light, settling icily
quiet forest like frozen dust.
fallen trees
static,
hears not that sound but the absence of
a wind. Merely the powderfine snow dropping
might be and
Not even
it,
itself is
The snow
has folded
itself
on the
into drifts,
ribbed beneath, cast into furrows by
and humps of dying
leaves
—we cannot know, we can be
—
—
THE SENTIENT LENS
169
sure only of the surface
we
now, a gently bending surface that warps and cracks the black shadows of the trees into a fretwork of complex patterns, complex yet tranquil, placed, reflective: the intersee
laced shadows and polygons of brightly daylit
quavering
of shadow. So close to the drifts are seen, only
snow suggest the and motion
stability of light, the imperceptible violence
we
that
whole
trees
thick black trunks flecked with white
cannot be
and plunging
branches weighted with snow, sweeping perilously near the white
we
heaps of earth:
pass beneath them, sliding by the black trunks,
over the virgin planes of groundsnow.
We
Brief sharp crackling sound! static.
Again! Next to
pine. Crack! In the
wood
We
freezing.
but our attention irregular
is
us,
up
close: the
pause. Different
from the
columnar trunk of a great
wood. Yes, again! The
subtle biting voice of
hesitate, expectant, straining to hear it again
new
suddenly shaken, captured by a
crumpling smashing noise that repeats
times, stops, then sounds again
itself
—
yes, of course! the
sound, an
four or five
squeaky splash-
ing padded unmistakable crash of snow being crushed underfoot!
motion!
Now we
see
him
there I
White
A
past white, but distinct.
Rabbit! Crush crush crush crush crush. Stop. Crush crush crush. Stop. Listens.
Nervous twitch of wide-nostriled
behind that pine!
Then Then away again,
Finally: silence.
nose.
Gone! Dimin-
again, louder now. Stop. Ah!
ishing crush crush beat. Stop.
Sudden astonishing
crush crush crush crush.
close-up of
dogs head, small
blac\ glittering eyes, long blac\ nose flicking swinging sniffing over the white earth, sharp triangular ears
alert,
and now we
see the
whole dog, lean, light-coated, of noble origin, taut-bodied. Nose
down, the dog
slips
soundlessly through the
the soft snow's weightless
We
reach, forgetting the dog,
space, nearly
flat,
muted
forest,
through
fall.
what appears
to be a small
open
the familiar chiaroscuro configurations unbroken
by upspearing forms. Here we pause. Our gaze
drifts
upward,
through the diminishing snow, past the arch of reaching branches,
toward the sky, up where the treetops lean inward as though possessed by, drawn toward some omnipotent vanishing point. We
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
170
cannot see the vanishing point, or even the sky: the snow that
tumbles outlines
down and away upon us obliterates all but the static black of the trees. When we look back down, we see that this
open area
is
snow
really a park,
with lamp posts standing rigid and
wide snow-pillowed benches sprawling
inscrutable,
weathered sign poking up,
at their feet, a small
We
but weathered away.
in
the deep
paint
its
all
can barely discern, and then at extremely
word men on it, but there is no arrow to might be found. The lamps are not lit: it is the
close range, the
tell
where they
bright
us
part of day.
A
road passes through the park, barely visible in the un-
trammeled snow, seen
as a slightly recessed plane
wide and stretching into the standing in the middle of
—an
the horizon
it,
about ten feet
indefinite distance. In fact,
and
as
our gaze traces
its
we
are
course toward
horizon by no means defined, by the way, but
—
muddled by the converging forest we see a sleigh approaching, drawn by two dark horses. Noiselessly, rapidly, it comes, the horses' hooves kicking up the dry snow in a swirl of seething clouds, pounding toward us, but in silence. Fine the horses, with flying manes and tight lithe bodies, shoulders sweating, muscles rippling, mouths
on
us,
afroth.
And
then suddenly the roar of sleighbells breaks in
and the thunder of hooves,
in a turbulence of blinding
The is
see a
Then,
man
as the fine
left in
at the sleigh as
by
us,
over us,
snow!
noise breaks off as suddenly as
blurred.
we
as the sleigh races
it
began. For a moment,
powder of cold snow
the sleigh's wake.
He
is
though in recognition of
settles
about
afoot, smiling, it;
now
all
us,
waving
he follows
it,
walking with firm measured tread along one of the two narrow tracks left by the sleigh's runners.
The man's seen before, or
face
is
much
familiar, life
someone we know, or have
someone we have seen
masculine outdoor kind of face
his,
before, a
at least
rugged
with craglike brow above a bold
once-broken nose, thin brows knotted, narrow pale eyes squinting against the glare, forehead lined by,
it
would seem,
alternating casts
of astonished perplexity and sustained anger, crowfeet searing deep
— THE SENTIENT LENS
171
into the temples, strong
blown askew. His eyes
jaw thrust forward, coarse sunblanched hair on some distant point, perhaps on
are fixed
the sleigh shrinking noiselessly into the horizon behind us, or
merely and resolutely on the horizon smile, the smile creasing his
The
cut grooves.
itself.
The man
maybe
continues to
weathered cheeks with humorous deep-
sun's dazzling radiance
is
constant.
The man's
cheeks bear the stubble of a day's beard, small wiry hairs that poke
out from their dark pockets like a plague of indefatigable parasites.
A large
irregular mole, the size of a black ant's head, interrupts the
dense growth of stubble near one of the vertical creases presently
deepened by the smile. The smile gradually fades, though not entirely,
uncommonly prominent. as
One
are quic\ to note
peculiarity
it is
the
his thin lips appear
:
dark, almost black, and his eyelashes are strangely
A
we might
—
we
and the frown deepens, but
pleasing virile frown of resolve.
mere
defect in certain
skills,
no doubt; we overlook
it
ignore a misplaced word, an unwanted tear, a broken-
backed shoe,
The man wears an open
static.
leather jacket, short,
over his chest and strong shoulders, swings his broad leathery hands in
wide rhythmic
wrapped
arcs, strides
vigorously through the snow, his legs
tightly in coarse gray leggings.
His boots tramp
willfully
snow is so blinding that these more than black shoe-shaped stumps only rarely do
into the drifts, but the glaze off the
boots appear no
we
:
catch a glimpse of an individual lace or a buttonhook
the most part,
it is
just a furry tunneling of black in
—no, for
and out of an
unstable white.
From
jaw jutting forward ment.
He
we watch
a distance,
is
the
in a strange
man marching
complex of anger and bewilder-
The
sky
is clear.
There are no
—there
even the sleigh tracks have disappeared leather-jacketed
man
again.
to time.
He
stops.
He
no
no shadows,
only this slender
is
The man
breaks stride
seems troubled, glances about uneasily,
Then
Looks about.
trees,
is
with wind-tossed hair striding furiously across
a barren expanse of shadowless slopes.
perhaps.
us, his
alone, utterly alone, in a vast white desolation. It
longer showing.
from time
toward
:
We
three nervous disorganized steps.
have drawn nearer.
He
He
now
is
lost
stops
puts one broad
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
172
hand
brow
to his
to
shade his eyes, leans out slightly from the waist,
searches the horizon in a complete circle.
from
his jacket pocket,
He
clamps
defiantly in his
it
pulls
it
Now, from strikes
it
flings
massively around
to the it.
it
a
crushes the
book of matches.
end of the
Smoke
empty packet
away
several feet
from
issues
match away, draws deeply on the
He
his nose.
cigarette.
on the
distances. Absently,
he
tears
one out,
hands cupped
He
His face
flicks
in a
into the snow.
cigarette, his
with a purposeful rigidity; he exhales slowly, his trained
cigarettes
against the back of one hand,
it
He
mouth.
same pocket:
the
holds
it,
tamps
out,
quick practiced gesture,
drops his hand, hitches
draws a pack of
crumpled packet containing only one
a
cigarette.
He
He
his trousers, appears to sigh, frowns.
is
the
tosses
set, tense,
lips pressed, eyes
the cigarette away,
glances hurriedly about, and, thrusting his head forward, sets off again.
He
has not taken
more, he
hand
stops.
presses
somewhat
He
down
more than
three or four steps
gazes about. Licks his
lips.
The
when, once
butt of his right
Once more he warily and now around him in a full circle, left hand
against his groin.
gracelessly peers
shielding his dark-lashed eyes. Apparently satisfied that he
he unbuttons his
see
fly
and prepares
alone,
From behind his left shoulder, past his flushed left ear, we can down into the dazzling unbroken slope in front of him. The
tension in his
left
temple relaxes
a kind of satisfaction as face: just this left side
it
black.
He
writes in the
urine searing
its
were
if
snow
as
of it
it
we
—
at that.
makes
faultless
or, rather,
Moreover, the
the face
he relieves himself.
seem almost
We
follow the
white plane, but
we can make them
out
cannot remember them, cannot even
he finished the word or words before the stream of
urine diminished, weakened from
drooping
all
lemon track through the
but afterwards
remember
—passes over what we can see of his
beyond
is
cannot discover the words
plainly,
as a certain absorption in his task
and not
blinding radiance of what
we
is
to urinate.
trickle,
occasional drip.
its initial
surging onrush to a thin
spurted ungoverned three times, then wilted to an
The man's
shoulders are shaking and
we
see that
he
THE SENTIENT LENS is
173
laughing, has been laughing throughout his performance, laugh-
ing uncontrollably now, but
our consciousness, there sound, which perhaps
The man
is
we
hear none of
silence
it,
still
governs
only an occasional and unplaced staticky
we have been hearing all
shakes out the
last
of
it,
along.
buttons himself up,
the
all
while continuing to laugh, his head thrown back, his mouth wide open, his white teeth bared, narrow eyes squeezed tight, the crowfeet
moist and exaggerated.
snow with
He
scribbles in the
his finger
DID THIS!
I
but soon
and
collapses to his knees
is
laughing so violendy that he
snow and now! strong, the
rolls
about in
it.
The
spills headfirst
laughter!
we
racking, hysterical, welling up, loose
rattling louder
—but
and louder
observe that the man's face
snow, curled up in a
is
and
though the laughter
startlingly sober!
He
into it
perverse,
swells,
we
huddles in the
damp,
ball of terror, his lined eyes
down
begin to hear
his cheeks
—and we see for the
whitened as though dusted with flour
time
first
but painted: his real mouth turns down we thought was a smile, remains, obstinate and impersonal, on his weeping face. The mad laughter thunders to a peak, then rattles off into the distance. Hollow. Peculiar. Now: no more than an echo. And then that silence again. A silence we know now. The man's dark lips move, over and over, as though reciting some terrible syllable, shattering the painted smile, although, as we have come to expect, we can hear none of it. Just the—but then, somewhat astonishingly, we do distinguish a noise of some sort, a new sound, resembling gagging, a sort of strangled deep-throated that his smile
is
not
real,
while the smile, what
gagging— Slowly quickly
we swoop backwards from
its
back,
gratefully
the
him there coiled in the snow, slide away from the vast and blinding
sound, leave
to
man and
helpless like a beetle
the
comforting shadows of the
weighted forest with
its
the
on
plain, returning forest,
the
great
low-slung canopy of snow-laden boughs.
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
174
For a
recollection that drives
but
we
we suddenly
stunning moment,
brief but
hysterical face again, as
—
gradually perceive that
it is
rodent eyes cloudy,
its
As we
back,
slip
we
discover that
bodied dog. Listening carefully,
man
not the
grows and louder, even
its
mouth
winter.
is
it is
only
split in a
sardonic grin.
between the jaws of the lean-
we
are able to hear a rhythmic
after the
fragile porcelain.
dog and the
ing on are long since out of sight. At
sound diminishes,
at all, no,
wide-nostriled nose
its
it is
marching over
crackle, not unlike soldiers it
mans
in a
the face of the white rabbit, nothing more,
quivering,
see the
memory, a sudden terrorizing a cold and unwanted tremor through us though
rabbit
it is
Louder munch-
nevertheless, even this
last,
absorbed into the transcendent silence of
Snow again begins to fall.
The Milkmaid of Samaniego
Uevaba en
We've nothing present
la
cabeza
una lechera
el
mira que ni
el presente estd seguro.
to let us suppose
cdntaro etcetera futuro;
it,
except the realization
perhaps of being, vaguely, in the country somewhere, yet nevertheless
it is
true: there
approaching.
Nor
is
is,
sit,
now
He
for his part merely
at the foot of the small
milkmaid
see her, a
her coming suggested in any
expression or position.
might
though we do not
way by
sits,
as a
the man's
man
arched bridge, staring idly
alone at the
stream eddying by, occasionally breaking a hunk of bread from the loaf in his lap
and
stuffing
it
between
his yellow teeth.
He
chews
THE SENTIENT LENS
much
without
175
interest, the thick
wads of bread forming
bulges in his dark unshaven cheeks. Yet, for a
milkmaid approaching, on her head
filled
with fresh milk for the market.
been some
sort of
a
It's
all that,
tall
there
shifting is
in fact
gently curving pitcher
almost
as
though there has
unspoken but well understood prologue, no mere
epigraph of random design, but a precise structure of predetermined images, both basic and prior to us, that describes her to us before our senses have located her in the present combination of shapes colors.
We
somehow
are,
and
then, aware of her undeniable approach, aware
of the slim graceful pitcher, the red kerchief knotted
about her neck, her starched white blouse and brightly flowered skirt,
her firm yet jubilant stride
down
the dusty road, this dusty
road leading to the arched bridge, past the oaks and cypresses, the
wooden
twisted
fences, the
haphazard system of sheep and catde,
alongside the occasional cottage and frequent
fields, fields of clover,
cabbage, and timothy, past chickens scratching in the gravel by the road,
and under the un tempered ardor of the summer sun.
We And
might
not,
on the other hand, have thought
man.
of the
even had the ambiguity of our expectations allowed a space for
him, as
it
might allow,
for example, for various dispositions of the
oaks, the cypresses, the daffodils
would not have had him
and the cabbages, we probably
just at the bridge, just
where our attention
might, at the wrong moment, be distracted from the maid. And,
what
more, his tattered black hat, the hair curling about his ears
is
and around
his sun-blackened neck, his torn yellow shirt
open down
the front, his fixed and swollen right eye, nearly two fingers lower
than the
left:
encourage us
these are to look for
all surprises, too,
and of a
sort that
might
another bridge and another milkmaid, were
such a happy option available. But, as though conscious of our sensing
him
intrusive
and discomposing, he suddenly
starts
up from
his idle contemplation of the brook below him, cocks his head
attentively to the right, exaggerating thereby the grotesquerie of his
bad
eye,
and slowly,
deliberately, turns to look over his right shoul-
der, thus guiding us directly
toward the milkmaid
barely visible at a turning in the road, several
herself,
now
hundred paces away.
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
176
The maid moves carried by a breeze,
toward
gracefully, evenly, surely
though there
is
none
this
and
make
still
mounted
her head as though
lifting her
smoother her light-bodied there for
all
as
if
hot day, her delicate
hands in the folds of her brightly flowered apron, skirt slightly to
us,
time the
apron
stride,
on
eggshell-
tall
white pitcher, the kind used for carrying fresh milk to the market.
Her
feet stir small swirls of dust in the road, intensifying the general
effect of
midsummer
haze.
A
white hen rears up,
ruffles its feathers,
then scrambles across the road in front of her, stopping to scratch in the gravel
on the other
side.
Even from
out the trace of a smile on the red
—or
her
girl's
rather, daffodil yellow
full breasts, fuller
this distance,
—kerchief
perhaps than
we can make
fine-boned face, and beneath the
knotted around her neck,
we had
expected, thrust proudly
forward within the white starched blouse.
As
she slowly completes the long turn in the road and ap-
proaches us from directly ahead, her hips broaden perceptibly, her skirts
grow
fuller.
The
with a narrow mouth, color of eggshells;
she
moves with
it
and smooth
pitcher, a stoneware jug, long is
a soft absorbent white, the slightly
rests steadily
on her auburn head,
a gliding, purely linear
rutted road, a smile playing suggestively
as
beneath
on her rouged mouth, her
upon
the road
As she walks, her skirt flutters and though caught by some breeze, though there is none. Her several paces ahead.
man,
this
it
motion down the dusty
eyes looking neither left nor right, but steadfastly
and
gray
one with the tattered hat and bulging
eye,
twists as
—but the
he stands
—no, no! the maid, the maid! Through
the eddies of dust swirling about her feet,
we can
catch an occasional glimpse of her ankles, rather thick but flashing
nimbly in the summer sun beneath her dark
skirt
and brightly
checked apron. Her hands, though coarse and broad-palmed, are strong and self-confident, the dark calloused hands of a milkmaid,
hands that curry bins.
Above
cattle,
grasp swollen
teats,
and shovel fodder into
the kerchief, the rich color of goldenrods, knotted about
her neck, her bemused smile exposes large even teeth, white and healthy.
Her nose
shifts just
a bit to the
left,
extends slightly, and
THE SENTIENT LENS above the right
177
nostril there appears, or has appeared, a small
spot, not unlike a wart, or a mole.
Her narrow
dark
black eyes look
neither left nor right, but stare vacantly into the road several paces
Above her high-boned face, tanned dark by the unremittent sun, and nested securely in her peat-colored hair is the tall
ahead.
summer
pitcher, completely undisturbed
The
pitcher itself
by her graceful heavy-bodied
stride.
a pale gray in color, shaded darker at the
is
neck, and etched throughout with an intricate tracery of minute rust-
Even from extreme proximity, we resemblance, in both hue and texture, to the shells colored veins.
fact, as
we
pitcher at six
dozen
observe yet more closely,
all,
though
at least,
it
we
are struck by
its
of white eggs. In
discover that
it
not a
is
has seemed like one, but actually real eggs,
maybe
seven, all nestled in a great raffia basket,
the kind of basket used for carrying fresh eggs to the market.
Suddenly, even as
we
watch, a kind of internal energy seems to take
possession of the eggs: they tumble about in the basket, burst open,
and a hundred
chicks, or more, yes! surely
more! pop out, one by
one, fluff their yellow down, and scurry about for the seed tossed at
them by the gay excited milkmaid in her brightly flowered apron. They fluster anxiously, almost furiously, about her narrowing ankles, and the faster they run, the faster they grow now they are
—
fat
white hens,
now
they are
still
scraping the ground, their snouts superfluity of cabbage, bran,
and
fatter
yellow sows, their
rummaging
acorns,
voraciously in the
which the slender maid
And, as we look about now more sows, chickens, too, even
flinging into their troughs.
time,
we
discover
their calves,
all
still
surrounding
as
milkmaid with the eggshell-white
though glorifying pitcher
bellies
is
for the first cattle
in the
with
happy
on her head.
Not" more than a dozen paces away, a
tall lad,
dark and
boned with flashing brown eyes and bold mouth, chested coal-black bull, his sturdy tanned—but no more of
fine-
curries a thickthat! for,
exchange charged glances, smile, she casts her eyes down. The boy seems paralyzed, he gazes at her in wonderin short, he looks up, they
ment,
at
her beautiful auburn hair gleaming in the fiery
summer
sun, at her gently blushing fair-skinned cheeks, at her soft ripe-
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
178
breasted body in skirt.
and the young lips, his
eyes
on her
are
toward
wide and astonished,
—
/
He
drops to the ground.
calves, struggles
on her
breasts,
no! not
hair
starched white blouse and brightly flowered
its
The currycomb
gone from
free,
his
His hands
his nostrils distended.
face, tearing at
She wrenches
pushes past the sows
her, the smile
her dress, tangled in her
but as she does
so,
she feels a
sudden lightening, almost a sense of growth, as the pitcher of fresh milk leans forward,
and plummets
topples,
caroms off the boy's lurching shoulders,
into the dust at his fading feet.
bubbles out of the narrow mouth, seeps
The white
liquid
the dry yellow
f utilely into
dust of the rutted road at the foot of the small arched bridge.
The maid
stoops to right the pitcher, but too
late.
Gone. The
milk, the eggs, the chickens, the fatbellied sows, the cows and the calves, that
clumsy stupid beautiful boy:
all
gone. Tears burst
down
the maid's tanned face. Gone, gone! In her anguish, she does not at first
notice the
two dry cracked hands
the stoneware jug, but it
takes but a brief second
tattered black hat
that are helping her set aright
when through
her tears she sees them at
more for her to discover the
and uncut
starts
back in
terror,
mouth. She scrambles to
ward
off
the
dark bearded face with
hair, the
bulging bloodshot eye, the sweat-stained shirt open
She
last,
rest:
down
its
to the belt.
her right hand pressed against her open
to her feet.
some blow. She
Her
hand comes up
left
as
though
seems about to run.
steps back,
The
man
sets the pitcher in the grass by the foot of the bridge, turns
back
to her, smiles.
She smiles
faintly,
cheeks, takes another rearward step.
He
wipes the tears from her looks
down
at himself, at
his torn yellow shirt
and muddy
bows slighdy from
the waist. She nods, clutches with both hands
shoes,
makes an apologetic
gesture,
her brightly checked apron, smiles again, shakes her head, does not step back.
He
shrugs his shoulders, gestures at the sun, at the pitcher
standing by the bridge, at the bread beside
it
in the grass.
She smiles
openly, showing her large white teeth, shakes her head, also gestures at the high sun
and then
at the
road she has just traveled.
follows her gestures, gazes with real compassion
down
He
the long
dusty road, then again at the empty pitcher, hesitates, finally reaches
— THE SENTIENT LENS
179
and withdraws some
into his pocket
maid. She steps forward but of gold and
silver.
to observe
They
He
coins.
them more
look, to
shows them
closely
they are few,
:
the truth, like nothing less
tell
midsummer
than a whole private universe of
to the
suns in the man's
strong dark hand. She smiles, casts her eyes down.
The
pitcher,
of the bridge, it
is
thought
actually, as
we now
weaves, leans, then finally
bursting
down
its
be stable in the grass
at first to
can
see,
on
at the foot
a small spiny ridge:
over in a gently curving arc,
rolls
rust-colored veins into a thousand tiny fragments,
fragments not unlike the broken
shells of
white eggs.
Many
of these
fragments remain in the grass at the foot of the bridge, while others
tumble
down the hill
silently
into the eddying stream below.
The Lepers Helix At
first,
in
an instant
half-real half-remembered, the leper
then he begins his approach, urgent across the
—no, no!
he has always been beginning, always approaching, just the glare caused the illusion:
coming
sun
it
at its zenith
is
at rest;
impossible!
was the and
glare,
this leper
on. Solitary flutter advancing like a crippled bird, the leper,
staggering out of isolation, staggering toward us as though in
amazement,
joy, disbelief, here
under the boiling desert sun, across
the parched and desolate surface, jerking, twisting, his white robe if it is
a robe
—stirring starched and binding, illustrating the fault of
his motion, the painful shifts of
fulcrum through
strange uncertain gait as though he lacks the
had
it,
lost
molten red
it,
flats,
Our own
dazzling white
this
his outline blurred
progress,
hang of
shimmery
by the savage
on the other hand,
is
his
abdomen, the it,
or having
figure crossing the glare.
precise, governed, has
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
180
been from the
mockingly
The
start.
call
We
it.
we might
active principle,
it.
Might
on the
desert
call
are describing a great circle
our compass point (thus,
surface, the leper's starting position as
admittedly, forcing a further reconsideration of the realities of that
moment—good
first idle
ever?). Since the leper
we compel him with
is
god! must
we
foul of such riddles for-
bend
this studied tour to
lope into a spiral, so regulating our arrival, if
fall
always approaching, must always approach,
own
bungling
his stupid
velocity as to schedule his
only he doesn't stumble, the fool, and
(and he does
fall
not, will not), at our starting point.
He
seems puzzled by our motion
flight, recoil,
to
our career
he unable,
his thin
white
obtain impact for
we
for art's sake
it
its
let
now
prolong
behind catch ity
humor.
speed
is
If
anything
is
neck. His approach in
a serious thing,
we would have
the rear, a dull
and
it
so,
He
it
his isola-
It's
must be
we would
he.
leave
him
to inscribe additional circles to
So our
veloc-
does not
know
pointless strategy.
diminishes, doubtless at a computable rate.
that.
—how
serve for comedy, this un-
not constant. No, were
at the end,
him from
now now
this miserable
gainly, high-legged, limbs-awry dance in the hot sun.
Our
like
to the
pigeon-toed
him \now extremity I
counterpart?)
some other circumstances might even tion cuts the
him
twisted to one side, head swaying precariously (is
journey? what matter! for art or no, else
to
like torn sails grappling for a stay, pelvis
now
thrust forward
on
must look
he but devotes more strength
of his failing strength, feet
arms flung
splayed,
—hah!
such a separation, to envision any shape
—but o constancy!
more
cause,
at
He
merely dances on, arms and legs outflung, dances on
helplessly— yet full of hope, that old disease
—scratching
his helix
across the desert floor, less true perhaps than our perfect circle, yet for that the
more
red plane. His robe seems not so sheet!
on the burnt ... a winding
beautiful, his steaming white helix
much
a robe as a
Death! we cry inwardly, but beat back the (alarming!)
absurdity.
moment!
It's it is,
the sun, only the sun, the glare, heat
and
he, not we, will die.
to the
end
—but only for a
will be, a leper in a white tunic.
And
— THE SENTIENT LENS
Down more than
181
we
the last arc segment
glide, closing
two-thirds done, the worst of
—he
steadily
enough now
close
is
mouth
strange that smile! for his
it
over.
now, our task
it
Our
pace letting up,
for us to see his eager smile:
apart at the corners, and
split
is
even not smiling he would surely seem
to.
Crusted eyes protruding
over shiny white cheekbones, tattered ends of his white flesh confus-
ing themselves with (peculiar, perhaps, this sensuous digression, and just at this
in
moment, but
there's,
you
see, a
kind of pleasure
had
to be
a need being reached) confuse themselves with his fluttering
it,
robe, flake off in a scaly dust that blurs his outline, dance lightly
around him
as
he staggers wildly on, closing in on
us.
The
flesh,
the
reminds of mica: translucent layers of dead scaly material, here
flesh
and there hardened into shiny nodules, here and there disturbed by deep
In the beds of these cavities: a dark substance, resem-
cavities.
bling blood not so sion,
much
as
...
as:
excrement. Well, simple
illu-
what
it is.
blood mixed with pus and baked in the sun,
His bare
brown mere few paces
that's
feet leave a trail of this viscous
But now
—oh my god! —as a —and end! —just
point of origin
separate us, our
visible before us, the brute reality
slams through the barriers of our senses: the encounter
imminent I Absorbed could
at the end! circles,
but the choice was ours just once, our impulsive
— mains—or it?
alas!
—a
and does
It is
of
after
power
it
one
all
action has
all
that re-
along? did his pace allow two
matter? for the encounter must come, mustn't circle,
two
circles,
no consequence. There
is
or ten. in us that conditions accep-
We turn to greet the leper.
Our
hands,
my
hands, appear before us, ruddy, hairy, thick-
wristed, muscular, fine rich blood
now
first
given, the inexorable governor of
has the leper had us
whether
tance.
its
we have wasted it all! —we had forgot what was to come had we thought, only thought, we could have drawn two
or ten circles, postponed this ultimate experience, could have,
become circles?
now
in our visual registrations, our meaningless
mathematics, our hedonistic pleasure in mere action and
how
is
for the embrace.
pounding through them, extended
They do not
tremble.
The
leper,
tongue
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
182
dangling
god! nearly blac\!
—frothing
pitifully at the
mouth, eyes
blank, whole wretched body oozing a kind of milky sweat, hurls
himself into our arms, smothering us, pitching us to the red clay, his sticky cold flesh fastening to us, face, blind eyes, that
helpless
the
instant,
from him,
ecstatic tears.
fingers,
At
it
We
is
lay
first,
tongue licking
whine! his odors choking
over.
Purged of
us,
we
lie,
I
my lie
his perishing flesh.
Then, in
we
free our-
all
revulsions,
him gently on the red earth, dry his final we make an effort to claw the earth with our
dig a hole large enough to conceal the blight of his
gathering decay. But reflex.
his black
under the sickening weight of
same
selves
me,
we weary
of
it:
the earth
is
hard, burial an old
We leave him lie and sit beside to wait. Under the desert sun.
wait, as he waited for us, for you. Desperate in need, yet with
terror.
What terrible game
will
you play with us? me.
A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT Paul stepped off the curb and got hit by a truck.
what
it
was
that hit
him
the truck, there could be
at
He
didn't
know
but now, here on his back, under
first,
no doubt.
Is it
me? he wondered. Have
I
walked the earth and come here ? Just as
he was
struck,
and while
still
tumbling in front of the
truck and then under the wheels, in a kind of f unhouse
gambado
of
pain and terror, he had thought: this has happened before. His neck had sprung, there was a sudden flash of light and a blaze roaring up in the back of his head.
new.
It
He
The
—almost fragrant—pain:
hot
that
was
was the place he felt he'd returned to. lay perpendicular to the length of the truck,
trailer, just to
under the
the rear of the truck's second of three sets of wheels.
183
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
184
All of
him was under
the truck but his head
I'm being born again, he reasoned.
toward the
side of the truck,
He
and shoulders. Maybe
stared straight up, past the
and
sky, pale blue
cloudless.
of skyscrapers closed toward the center of his vision;
thought about
he realized
it,
was the
it
first
read the it
fall.
The
one of them anyway. The truck was red with white
his severe angle of vision letters.
seemed
to
up the
be a "14."
He
illu-
him from being
but
able to
smiled inwardly at the irony, for he had a
numbers: fourteen!
bered having had a green it.
old
letters,
A capital "K," he could see that—and a number, yes,
private fascination with
to prove
side kept
tops
that he
time in years he had
looked up at them, and they seemed inclined to sion;
The
now
light,
but
it
He
thought he remem-
didn't really matter.
would have changed by now,
It
No way The
in any case.
thought, obscurely, troubled him.
"Crazy goddamn fool he
walk right out
just
me no
in fronta
respect just burstin for a bustin!"
The
somehow,
voice, familiar
above and to his
right.
shaking their heads.
head toward the
He
voice,
bad. Better just to
guttural, yet falsetto,
People were gathering to stare felt like
one chosen.
He
came from
down
at
him,
tried to turn his
but his neck flashed hot again. Things were
lie still,
take no chances.
Anyway, he saw now,
just in the corner of his eye, the cab of the truck, red like the trailer,
and poking out
wagging
window, the
in the sunshine.
small, in fact:
"Boy cake
its
I
God
it
The
large
driver
head of the truckdriver,
wore a small tweed cap
—too
sat just on top of his head.
seen punchies in
my
sweet time but this cookie takes the
bless the laboring classes I say
and preserve us from the
humble freak!"
The
truckdriver spoke with broad gestures, bulbous eyes rolling,
runty body thrusting
itself
in
and out of the cab window,
flying wildly about. Paul worried
still
about the
light. It
tant, yet
how
place,
could get away from you in a minute.
it
could he ever
little
hands
was impor-
know? The world was an ephemeral The driver had a
bent red nose and coarse reddish hair that stuck out like straw.
A
— A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT hard shiny chin,
185
mirror image of the hooked nose. Paul's
too, like a
eyes wearied of the strain,
and he had
to stop looking.
"Listen lays and gentmens I'm a good Christian by Judy a
decent hardworkin fambly little
woman and
sible
man and goddamn
and
man
seven yearnin younguns
an
idle
saw compassion, or
"It's
for
seed a respon-
at
right into
me
a neutral
least
witnessing his state and seemed to
understand, but there were others
"He asked
my own
a dear
amusement, but on most he saw reproach. There
who winced on
were those
all
wage and got
what he do but walk
that boy
my poor ole truck!" On some faces Paul
curiosity,
earnin a honest
it if
—a majority—who jeered.
you ask me!"
the idler plays the fool
and the workingman's
to
hang
for
it!"
"Shouldn't allow his kind out to walk the streets!"
"What It
is
the use of running
when you
were orations and the waving of
flags.
been carrying anything? No, no.
He
likely,
on the wrong road?"
Paul was wondering: had he
had only
wait!
but ... ah well. Perhaps he was carrying
no feeling
The
a.
book? Very
it still.
There was
in his fingers.
people were around
aired, sides taken,
man
are
worsened. Their shouts grew louder and ran together. There
arrived
him
like
flies,
grievances were being
and there might have been a brawl, but a
and broke
police-
up. "All right, everybody! Stand back,
it
please!" he shouted. "Give this
man some
air!
Can't you see he's
been injured?"
At
last,
Paul thought.
He
relaxed.
For a moment, he'd
felt
now he felt at home he might survive. Though really:
himself in a strange and hostile country, but again.
He
even began to believe
had he ever doubted
it?
"Everybody back, bac\!" The policeman was
crowd grew
quiet,
and by the sound of
guessed they were backing
but he
felt relieved just
the
effective.
The
their sullen shuffling,
Paul
Not that he got more or less air by it, same. "Now," said the policeman, gently
off.
but firmly, "what has happened here?"
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
186
And
with that
it all
started
up
again,
same
as before, the clamor,
the outrage, the arguments, the learned quotations, but louder and
more discordant than
I'm hurt, Paul
ever.
said.
No
one heard. The
policeman cried out for order, and slowly, with his shouts, with his
them again
nightstick, with his threats, he reduced
One
lone voice
stop goosing
hung
end: "
at the
mel" Everybody laughed,
"Stop goosing her,
sir!" the
—for
to silence.
the last time, Mister,
released.
policeman
commanded with
his
chin thrust firmly forward, and everybody laughed again.
Paul almost laughed, but he couldn't, quite. Besides, he'd
with
got the picture, and given his condition,
that,
funny one.
He
opened
down over him. He had "Now,
tell
was thin and
his eyes
it
just,
was not a
and there was the policeman bent
a notebook in his hand.
me, son, what happened here?" The policeman's face
pale, like a student's,
and he wore a trim
little
tuft of
black moustache under the pinched peak of his nose. I've just
been
hit,
Paul explained, by
realized that he probably didn't say
no longer
his.
He
it
at
this truck,
all,
and then he
that speech
was an
art
eyes indicatively toward the cab of the
cast his
truck.
"Listen, I asked
you what happened here! Cat got your tongue,
young man?" "Crazy goddam fool he
just
walk right out
in fronta
me no
respect just burstin for a bustin!"
The policeman remained crouched over Paul, but turned his head up to look at the truckdriver. The policeman wore a brilliant blue uniform with large brass buttons.
"Boy cake
God
humble
I
seen punchies in
my
And
gold epaulettes.
sweet time but this cookie takes the
bless the laboring classes I say
and preserve us from the
freak!"
The policeman looked down at Paul, then back at driver. "I know about truckdrivers," Paul heard him say.
the truck-
"Listen lays and gentmens I'm a good Christian by Judy a
decent hardworkin fambly little
woman and
man
earnin a honest
seven yearnin younguns
all
wage and got
my own
a dear
seed a respon-
A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT
man and goddamn
sible
187
my poor ole trike. Truck, I mean."
and
There was a loose frown and
tittering
from the crowd, but the policeman's
raised stick contained
asked, turning back to Paul.
who
truckdrivers were
At
it.
first,
"What's your name, lad?" he the policeman smiled, he
a salvation of sorts in that smile, but gradually
"We're here
He
if
said pettishly
Again a
and
"O God
to
It's
Paul understood.
own acumen. "Do you know
know
this
tumult of words and sounds, shouts
know
voice, belted
It
if
none knew him or
to
it,
W
ester manl"
drew
they
all
near.
The
voice, a
"Amory! What
you?"
was not a mistake.
young man?"
this
if
out above the others, came through:
Amory! Amory
what have they done
.
was jammed up
the crowd.
was hard
in heaven!
it, it
help you," the policeman
I can't
woman's, hysterical by the sound of .
"Come,
out.
nose up. "Anybody here
tilted his
roar, a threatening
forth. It
But then one
did.
it
you won't help me,
man?" he called out to back and
faded.
to help you."
and he wasn't getting
"Well,
it
winked, nudged him gently.
Paul, Paul replied. But, no, no doubt about in there
knew
and he knew who Pauls were, and there was
come, boy! Don't be afraid!"
.
me
boy what he do but walk right into
that
He
was astonished by
his
the policeman asked, lifting
his notebook.
"What? Know him? Did Sarah know Abraham? Did Eve
know Cain?" The policeman
cleared his throat uneasily.
"Adam," he
cor-
rected spftly.
know who I know," the woman low throaty snigger. The crowd responded
"You know who you know, said,
and
let fly
with a
I
with a belly laugh.
"But
this
—
young man
!"
the policeman insisted, flustered.
"Who, you and Amory?" the woman cried. "I can't believe it!" The crowd laughed and the policeman bit his lip. "Amory! What new persecutions are these?" She billowed out above him: old,
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
188
maybe even
and bosomy, pasty-faced with thick red
seventy, fat
rouges, head haloed by ringlets of sparse orangish hair.
"My
poor
Amory!" And down she came on him. Paul tried to duck, got only a it. Her breath reeked of cheap gin. Help,
hot flash in his neck for said Paul.
"Hold, madame! Stop!" the policeman
woman's
cried,
tugging
at the
She stood, threw up her arms before her
sleeve
What more
staggered backwards.
face,
she did, Paul couldn't see, for his
view of her face was largely blocked by the bulge of her breasts and belly.
There were laughs, though. "Everything in order here,"
grumped
the policeman, tapping his notebook.
name, please
.
.
.
uh
.
"My name?" She cried to the
.
.
miss,
"Now,
what's your
madame?"
twirled gracelessly on one dropsied ankle and
crowd: "Shall
I tell?"
"Tell! Tell! Tell!" shouted the spectators, clapping rhythmically.
Paul
let
himself be absorbed by
there was, after
it;
all,
nothing
else to do.
The the
policeman, rapping a pencil against his blue notebook to
rhythm
of the chant, leaned
down
over Paul and whispered
:
("I
think we've got them on our side now!") Paul, his gaze floating giddily police officer
and the red
haze above, wondered
am
I
alliance
if
without them ? Could
seemed
to tip: his feet
up
past the thin white face of the
side of the truck into the horizonless blue
I
were
really the
key to
it all.
What
even die ? Suddenly, the whole world
dropped and
his
head
rose.
Beneath him the
red machine shot grease and muck, the host rioted above his head,
him from behind, and out front the skyscrapers many insensate fingers, the path he must walk to
the earth pushed
pointed, like so oblivion.
was
He
afraid he
squeezed shut his eyes to
would
slide
down
set right the
world again
—he
beneath the truck to disappear from
sight forever.
"My name— /" tittering softly.
policeman
stood
woman's puffy
bellowed the woman, and the crowd hushed,
Paul opened his eyes. over
face
him,
He was
mouth
on
agape,
his
back again. The
pencil
poised.
The
was sequined with sweat. Paul wondered what
"
A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT
189
she'd been doing while he wasn't watching.
"My name,
officer, is
Grundy." "I
beg your pardon?" The policeman, when nervous, had a way
of nibbling his moustache with his lowers.
"Mrs. Grundy, dear boy,
who
did you think
I
was?" She patted
me
the policeman's thin cheek, tweaked his nose. "But you can call Charity, handsome!"
index finger in his
The policeman
little
blushed. She twiddled her
moustache. "Kootchy-kootchy-koo!" There
was a roar of laughter from the crowd.
The policeman sneezed. "Please!" he protested. Mrs. Grundy curtsied and stooped to unzip "Hello! Anybody home!"
the
officer's
fly.
"Stop that I" squeaked the policeman through the thunderous laughter and applause. Strange, thought Paul,
joying
how much
I'm en-
this.
"Come out, come out, wherever you "The story!" "Story?
are!"
the policeman insisted through the tumult.
What—?"
"This young fellow," said the policeman, pointing with his pencil.
you
He
said
—
zipped up, blew his nose. "Mr., uh, Mr. Westerman
.
.
.
Who?" The woman shook her jowls, perplexed. She frowned down at Paul, then brightened. "Oh yes! Amory!" She "Mr.
paled,
seemed
"Good God!"
to
sicken. Paul,
if
he could've, would've smiled.
she rasped, as though appalled at what she saw. Then,
once more, she took an operatic grip on her breasts and staggered
back a lies
step.
stark
"O
and
mortality!
stiff!
Delenda
Gloria, corrected Paul.
"Squashed
O fatal est
mischief!
in!
A noble
man
Carthago! Sic transit glans mundil"
No, leave
like a lousy
Done
it.
bug!" she
cried.
"And
at the height of
his potency!"
"Now, wait a minute!" the policeman protested. "The final curtain! The last farewell! The journey's end! Over the hill! The last muster!" Each phrase was answered by a happy shout from the mob. "Across the river! The way of all flesh! The
"
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
190
roundup!" She sobbed, then ballooned down on him again,
last
tweaked
his ear
enh?
Him
make
well!")
left side
fall
and whispered ("How's Charity's weetsie snotkins, :
down and bump
And
she
let
him have
of his nose, left cheek,
enveloping sour blubbering
man
did not intervene.
his
He
little
on the
it
and part of
and
kiss,
Mumsy
putsy?
and
kiss
—well, sort of on the one wet
his left eye:
this time, sorrily, the police-
was busy taking
notes. Officer, said
Paul.
"Hmmm," ah,
ahem, Grundig, Grundig
you-?" The woman the policeman,
-
D,
D
yes,
labored clumsily to her
and squinted over
R-U-NNow what did
and wrote. "G
the policeman muttered,
- 1 -
feet,
G.
-
plodded over behind he was
his shoulder at the notes
taking. "That's a 'Y' there, buster, a 'Y.' " She jabbed a stubby ruby-
tipped finger at the notebook.
"Grundigy?" asked the policeman
name
is
"No, no!" the old the winds. "Grundy!
take off your
—
"Oh, Grundy! end of paper
in disbelief.
"What kind
of a
that?"
woman
whined, her grand manner flung to
Grundy! Without the Mg,' don't you
He
You
Now I have it!" The policeman scrubbed the back
his pencil in the notebook. tore.
see?
looked up
"Darned
irritably.
eraser.
"Can't
we
About
just
shot."
make
it
The
Grun-
dig?"
"Grundy," said the
The policeman up
angrily,
woman
coldly.
ripped the page out of his notebook, rumpled
and hurled
it
to the street. "All right,
he cried in a rage, scribbling: "Grundy. it,
I
have
it.
gosh
damn
Now
get
it
it
all!"
on with
lady!" "Officer!" sniffed Mrs.
Grundy, clasping
a handkerchief to her
"Remember your place, or I shall have to speak to your superior!" The policeman shrank, blanched, nibbled his lip. Paul knew what would come. He could read these two like a throat.
book. I'm the strange one, he thought. faces,
but his streetlevel view gave
him
He
wanted
to
watch
their
on
their
at best a perspective
"
A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT under chins. bellies: the
he wanted
was
It
191
their crotches that
And
squashed bug's-eye view. to
watch
were prominent. Butts and
was
that
strange, too: that
their faces.
The policeman was begging for mercy, wringing There were serpents.
it."
The
notebook, abashed. right?"
crowd
faint hissing sounds, wriggling out of the
"Cut the
overdoing
his pale hands.
shit,
mac," Charity Grundy said
officer
chewed
his
moustache, stared
"You wanna know who
The policeman nodded. "Okay,
are
The
bosom again and
notebook up, the pencil poised. Mrs. Grundy
down at Paul, winced, "He was my lover!"
at his
silent.
police officer held snuffled,
looked
turned away and wept. "Officer!" she gasped.
Halloos and cheers from the crowd, passing to laughter.
policeman started to smile, blinking
down
at
just
one year ago today.
smiled bravely, brushing back a
tear,
The
Mrs. Grundy's body,
but with a twitch of his moustache, he suppressed
"We met ...
is,
you ready?" She clasped
her
crowd grew
down
poor clown
this
his
the
like
finally, "you're
O
her lower
it.
fateful hour!" lip
She
quivering. Once,
down at The wink nearly convinced him. Maybe I'm him after all. Why not? "He was selling seachests, door to door. I can see him now as he was then " She paused to look down at him as he was now, and wrinkles of revulsion swept over her face. Somehow this brought laughter. She looked away, puckered her mouth and bugged her eyes, shook one hand limply from the wrist. The crowd her hands clenched woefully before her face, she winked
Paul.
—
was
really
with her.
"Mrs. Grundy," the
officer
whispered, "please
.
.
."
"Yes v there he was, chapfallen and misused, orphaned by the rapacious world, yet pure and undefiled, there: there at
With her baggy arm,
my
door!"
flung out, quavering, she indicated the door.
"Bent nearly double under his impossible seachest, perspiration illuminating his
— undershirt
manly brow, wounding
his eyes,
wrinkling his
"Careful!" cautioned the policeman nervously, glancing
from
his notes.
He must
have
filled
up
twenty or thirty pages by now.
"
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
192
"In short,
my
went out
heart
—
him!" Gesture of heart going
to
—
—
"And though alas! my need for seachests was limited The spectators somehow discovered something amusing in this and tittered knowingly. Mainly in the way she said it, he supposed. Her story in truth did not bother Paul so much as his own fascination with it. He knew where it would lead, but it didn't matter. In
out.
maybe
fact,
"
—
I
and come
him
in here,
Charity, love, pretty
was what
that
invited
little
come
in.
I
fascinated him.
Put down that horrid
cried,
in for a
come cup of
shoulders, your pretty
come
tea,
seachest, dear boy,
warm and
your
in to
and
in
rest, rest
back, your pretty
little
obedient
little
your .
.
."
Mrs. Grundy paused, smiled with a faint arch of one eyebrow, and the
crowd responded with another burst of laughter. "And it was little, okay," she grumbled, and again they whooped, while
pretty
she sniggered throatily.
How all
was
it
now? he wondered.
In
fact,
he'd been wondering
along.
"And, seachest
—
well, officer, that's
alas!
sad to
tell,
what he
right
on
dozing there in the day's brief sun, alas!)
somewhat homaloidal
did,
my
he did put
down
his
unfortunate cat Rasputin,
God
rest his soul, his (again,
soul!"
She had a great audience. They never
failed her,
nor did they
now.
The policeman, who had now stood and shouted
knee,
finally squatted
down
to write
for order. "Quiet! Quiet!"
tache twitched. "Can't you see this
is
on
his
His mous-
a serious matter?" He's the
funny one, thought Paul. The crowd thought laughter mounted, then finally died away.
"And
.
so, .
.
too,
for
the
and then what
happened?" the policeman whispered. But they heard him anyway and screamed with delight, throwing up a new clamor in which could be distinguished several coarse paraphrases of the policeman's question.
The
officer's
pale face flushed.
He
looked
down
at
Paul
with a brief commiserating smile, shrugged his shoulders, fluttering the epaulettes. Paul
made
a try at a never-mind kind of gesture, but,
he supposed, without bringing
it off.
—
"
"
A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT
193
"What happened next, you ask, you naughty boy?" Mrs. Grundy shook and wriggled. Cheers and whistles. She cupped her plump hands under her breasts and hitched her abundant hips heavily to one side. "You don't understand," she told the crowd. "I only wished to be a mother to the lad." Hoohahs and catcalls. "But I had failed to realize, in that fleeting tragic moment when he un-
how
burdened himself upon poor Rasputin,
young and "This
is
the
dumbest
story
I
was wrenching
I
Oh yes, I know, I know—
unsullied heart asunder!
ever heard," interrupted the police-
man finally, but Mrs. Grundy paid him no heed. "I know I'm old and fat, that I've crossed teric!"
She winked
fragrant flush of
good thing
Grand Climac-
the
crowd's yowls of laughter. "I
at the
first
flower
is
his
gone forever!" she
down
go, pressing her wrinkled palms
know
the
cried, not letting a
over the soft
hips,
peeking coyly over one plump
shoulder at the shrieking crowd.
The policeman stamped his foot, "I know, I know yet: somehow,
swoop of her blimp-sized
but no one noticed except Paul. face to face with
Charity, a primitive
little
welled up in his untaught
"Stop
it!" cried the
loins, his pretty little
unnameable urgency
—
policeman, right on cue. "This has gone far
enough!"
"And you
why
ask what happened next?
conceal the truth
easy, the
.
.
.
I
from you of
shall tell you, officer! all
people?"
policeman seemed frankly pleased that she had put
way. "Yes, without further discourse, he buried his pretty in
my bosom— "
perhaps
it
(Paul
had been with him
there, yes, he did, there
my
felt a distressing all
For
Though unit
little
this
head
sense of suffocation, though
the while) "
—and he tumbled me
on the front porch alongside
his seachest
and
dying Rasputin, there in the sunlight, before God, before the
neighbors, before Mr.
Dunlevy the mailman who
before the children from
down
is
hard of hearing,
the block passing on their shiny
little-"
"Crazy goddamn fool he
just
walk right out in fronta
me
no
respect just burstin for a bustin!" said a familiar voice.
Mrs. Grundy's broad
face,
now
streaked with tears and mottled
—
—
""
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
194
with a tense pink
Then
silence.
flush,
glowered. There was a long and
difficult
she narrowed her eyes, smiled faintly, squared her
shoulders, touched a handkerchief to her eye, plunged the handker-
—Before,
her bosom, and resumed: "
down
chief back
whole itchy eyes-agog world, a coupling unequaled
in short, the
in the history of
Western concupiscence!" Some vigorous applause, which she
—
knowledged. "Assaulted, but I
reminded him of
"Boy
I
God
cake
—
seen punchies in
yes, I confess
my
it
sweet time but
bless the laboring classes I say
ac-
—assaulted, but aglow, this
cookie takes the
and preserve us from the
humble freak!" Swiveling his wearying gaze hard right, Paul could see the
huge head
truckdriver waggling his
padded heavily over
swung
to
crowd. Mrs. Grundy
at the
him, the back of her thick neck reddening,
her purse in a great swift arc, but the truckdriver recoiled
into his cab, laughing with a taunting cackle.
same
instant,
his eyes, said: "Listen lays
and gentmens I'm
Judy a decent hardworkin fambly got a dear
woman and
little
seed a responsible— "I'll
Then, almost
in the
he poked his red-beaked head out again, and rolling
man
good Christian by
a
earnin a honest wage and
seven yearnin younguns
responsible your ass!" hollered Charity
all
my own
Grundy and
let fly
with her purse again, but once more the driver ducked nimbly
The crowd,
inside, cackling obscenely. terical
Again the
driver's
— god " he began, but Her nose
taking
sides,
was more hys-
than ever. Cheers were raised and bets taken.
great lumpish
^z-raackk!
waggling head popped out:
his
below the top of
his head.
off,
him square on
his
bent red
the truckdriver slumped lifelessly over the
door of his cab,
not drop
man and
time Mrs. Grundy was waiting for him.
this
purse caught
—and
"
stubby
little
As
arms dangling limp, reaching
best Paul could
tell,
just
the tweed cap did
but since his eyes were cramped with fatigue, he had to
stop looking before the truckdriver's head ceased bobbing against
the door.
—
—"
"
A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT
Man
195
and god! he thought. Of course!
mean? Nothing. The policeman made
much
apparently had too
What
terrific!
did
futile little gestures of interference,
it
but
respect for Mrs. Grundy's purse to carry
them out. That purse was big enough maybe it did.
to
hold a bowling
ball,
and
Mrs. Grundy, tongue dangling and panting furiously, clapped
one hand over her heart and, with the handkerchief, fanned herself
down
with the other. Paul saw sweat dripping
so—fool
—
I
.
.
.
pufl
I
—
reminded him of ... of the
I
the cup of tea!" she gasped. She paused, swallowed,
brow, sucked in a deep lungful of
"And
cleared her throat.
so I
air,
"And
her legs.
and exhaled
wheel
—
mopped her
it
slowly.
reminded him of the cup of
She
teal" she
roared with a grand sweep of one powerful arm, the old style recovered. There
was
a general smattering of complimentary applause,
which Mrs. Grundy acknowledged with a short nod of her head.
"We
went
inside.
The
air
was heavy with expectation and the un-
mistakable aroma of catshit.
Rasputin had yielded up the
One might
spirit
—
almost be pleased that
"Now just stop it!" cried the policeman. "This is—" "I
poured some
tea,
we
now famous
sang the
braguetal jLa bragueta estd cerradal/
"Enough,
I
said!"
duet, '\Cierrate la
You're warm, said Paul. But cried Charity
is
—
danced for him, he
screamed the policeman, his
quivering with indignation. "This
"Absurd?"
1
little
moustache
absurd!"
that's
not quite
it.
Grundy, aghast. "Absurd? You
call
my dancing absurd?" "I
.
.«
I
didn't
say-"
awesome—but absurd. " She grabbed him by the lapels, lifting him off the ground. "What do you have against dancing, you worm? What do you have against "Grotesque, perhaps, and yes, a bit
grace?" "P-please!
"Or
is it,
Put
me down!"
you don't believe
I
can dance?" Six dropped him.
1
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
196
"N-no!" he squeaked, brushing himself
straightening his
off,
"No! I—"
epaulettes.
"Show him! Show him!" chanted the crowd. The policeman spun on them. "Stop! In the name of the law!" They obeyed. "This man is injured. He may die. He needs help. It's
no joking matter. "That's better."
effect.
ing a
bit.
"Now, ahem,
"Oh,
on a new
there a doctor present?
is
He
paused for
stroked his moustache, preen-
A
doctor, please?"
you're cute! You're very cute!" said Mrs.
officer,
tack.
ask for your cooperation."
I
The policeman
The crowd
Grundy
snickered. "Is there a doctor present?" she
mimicked, "a doctor, please?"
"Now
just cut
it
out!" the policeman ordered, glaring angrily
Grundy. "Gosh damn
across Paul's chest at Mrs. this instant, or
"A ww,
.
.
now, you stop
it
or you'll see what'll happen!"
.
you're jealous!" cried Mrs.
supine Rasputin!
it
Amory,
I
Grundy. "And of poor
little
mean." The spectators were in great
and the
spirits again, total rebellion threatening,
police officer
was
at
the end of his rope. "Well, don't be jealous, dear boy!" cooed Mrs.
Grundy. "Charity
tell
you a weetsie
bitty secret."
"Stop!" sobbed the policeman. Be careful where you step, said
Paul below. Mrs. Grundy leaned perilously out over Paul and got a grip on the policeman's ear.
"That boy," she It
said,
He
humps terrible!"
"he
crowd and broke
carried out to the
and she wambled about
winced, but no longer attempted escape.
gloriously, her
it
up.
It
was her big
line
rouged mouth stretched in a
flabby toothless grin, retrieving the pennies that people were pitch-
ing (Paul
knew about them from being
his upper
lip,
mon catch
to pennies the
them
by them; one landed on
world over), thrusting her chest forward
in the cleft of her
bow with
ing his moustache.
her.
to
bosom. She shook and, shaking,
jangled. She grabbed the policeman's to share a
hit
stayed there, emitting that familiar dead smell com-
hand and pulled him forward
The policeman
smiled awkwardly, twitch-
"
A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT
197
"You asked for a doctor," said an old but gentle voice. The crowd noises subsided. Paul opened his eyes and discovered above him a stooped old man in a rumpled gray suit. His hair was
He
wore rimless
down
at Paul, that
shaggy and white, his face dry, lined with age. glasses, carried a black leather bag.
easy smile of a
He
smiled
man who comprehends and
assuages pain, then
looked back at the policeman. Inexplicably, a wave of terror shook Paul.
"You wanted
man
a doctor," the old
repeated.
"Yes! Yes!" cried the policeman, almost in tears. "Oh, thank
God!" "I'd rather you thanked the profession," the doctor said. "Now what seems to be the problem?" "Oh, doctor, it's awful!" The policeman twisted the notebook in
his hands, fairly destroying
truck, or so
it
mystery, and there
even sure of his
"No
it.
man
"This
would appear, no one seems is
name
a
—
woman, but now
I
has been struck by this to
know,
it's all
don't see
—
?
and I'm not
matter," interrupted the doctor with a kindly
old head,
"who he
He
is.
is
a
man and
a terrible
nod of his is enough
that, I assure you,
forme." "Doctor, that's so good of you to say so!" wept the policeman.
I'm in trouble, thought Paul. "Well, now, over Paul.
He
let
Oh boy, I'm really in trouble.
us just see," said the doctor,
lifted Paul's eyelids
rummagecj about exactly
it,
I
can't
"Why
was not such expertly,
wooden
doctor said.
withdrew a
what the doctor did
in his ears.
asked:
in
move my
He
opened
flashlight.
after that,
them from
his black bag,
but he seemed to be looking
head, Paul told him, but the doctor only
with pain. "Ahh,
and scrutinized
yes,"
manner
upon an answer, and he got none. Gently,
he pried Paul's teeth apart, pinned his tongue depresser,
in-
side to
Paul was not sure
does he have a penny under his nose?" His as to insist
down
with his thumb and peered
tently at Paul's eyes; Paul, anxious to assist, rolled side. "Just relax, son," the
crouching
his throat. Paul's
he mumbled.
"Hum, hum."
down with
head was on
a
fire
—
"
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
198
"How voice
.
.
how
.
he,
is
Doctor?" stammered the policeman,
muted with dread and
The
respect.
"Will
doctor glared scornfully at the
from
stethoscope
his bag.
and
inside Paul's shirt
He
hooked
it
.
.
.
will
.
.
in his ears, slipped the disc
head inclined
worms. Absolute
silence
to
had the vague impression that the doctor tapped
or two, but
mouth
"Oh,
feel
it.
His head
softly.
time
his chest a
felt better
"Hmmm," said the doctor gravely, "yes
.
.
with his
."
What is it, Doctor?" the policeman cried. it? What is it?" shouted the doctor in a sudden
please!
"What of rage.
he didn't
so,
if
closed.
one
now. Paul
could hear the doctor breathing, the policeman whimpering
He
his
?"
.
then withdrew a
officer,
listened intently, his old
side like a bird listening for
he
is
"I'll tell
you what
is it!"
He
sprang to his
feet,
burst
nimble for an
old man. "I cannot examine this patient while you're hovering over
my
mewling
shoulder and
it!"
"B-but
I
only
a
goddamn
—" stammered the
"And how do you under
like a
me
expect
damned truck?" The
officer,
to
schoolboy, that's
what
is
staggering backwards.
examine a
man
half buried
doctor was in a terrible temper.
"But I—"
"Damn
it!
truck from the scene so that
man's
injuries!
Have
"Y-yes! But officer,
.
.
I .
I
made
"Simple, you said
his
am
do?" wept the
police
mouth. "I'm only a simple
police-
it!"
Did
it
to
I
and count
—
barked the doctor. "I told you what
to do,
now get moving!"
Now what?
again, thought Paul.
policeman, chewing wretchedly on the corners of his note-
book, stared
first at
Paul, then at the truck, at the crowd, back at the
truck. Paul felt fairly certain
on the
this
but wh-what
you God-and-cunt simpleton cunt!
can determine the true gravity of
my duty before God
man, Doctor, doing
The
this
idiot, if
myself clear?"
hands clenched before
God and
you don't remove
you
but-I you,
I'll
truck's side
from under
— ?" the
was an officer
now
"I." "Shall
began
"Good God, no!" stormed
"K" him out
that the letter following the I
.
.
.
shall
I
pull
tentatively, thin chin aquiver.
the doctor, stamping his foot. "This
— A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT
man may you
199
have a broken neck! Moving him would
you sniveling birdbrain? Now, goddamn
see that,
wretched nose and go wake up your I
mean
now!
right
"B-back
it
Tell
—
off
him
But
!
to .
.
.
—
him, don't
\ill it,
wipe your
your accomplice up there, and
back his truck
off this
poor devil!"
him
but he'd have to run over
again!
He-" "Don't by or
God
run-over-him-again me, you blackshirt hireling,
have your badge!" screamed the doctor, brandishing
I'll
his
stethoscope.
The policeman
hesitated but a
moment
body, then turned and ran to the front of the truck.
you!"
He whacked
"
on the head with
the driver
Hollow thun\l "Up and
at
ME AND MY POOR
foot
first
rearing
cried the truckdriver,
wildly and fluttering his head as though
RIGHT INTO
his nightstick.
'em!"
dam that boy what,"
laughed again,
down at Paul's "Hey! Come on,
to glance
OLE TRICK TRUCK, !
I
up
"he do but walk
lost,
MEAN?" The Crowd
time in a long time, but the doctor stamped his
and they quieted right down.
"Now,
start
up
that engine, you, right
the policeman, stroking his moustache.
old spit and polish back.
He
now!
He was
I
mean
it!"
getting a
ordered
little
of his
slapped the nightstick in his palm two
or three times.
Paul
felt
the
pavement under
started the motor.
The white
fields like butterflies.
clouds
now
his
letters
back quake
as the truckdriver
above him joggled in their red
Beyond, the sky's blue had deepened, but white
flowered in
it.
The
skyscrapers
had grayed,
as
though
withdrawing information.
The, truck's
noise smothered the voices, but Paul did overhear
the doctor and the policeman occasionally, the doctor ranting, the
policeman imploring, something about mass and weight and vectors
and
direction. It
two
sets
of
was
of wheels
finally
decided to go forward, since there were
up front and only one
humanism maintaining,
after
all,
to the rear (a decent
driver apparently misunderstood, because he backed
the middle set of wheels rolled
kind
thought Paul), but the truck-
up on top of Paul.
up anyway, and
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
200
"Stop! Stop!" shrieked the police
coughed and died.
"I ordered
you
to
and the truck motor
officer,
go forward, you pighead, not
backward!"
The
driver
popped
his
head out the window, bulged
his ping-
pong-ball eyes at the policeman, then waggled his tiny hands in his
and brayed. The
ears
driver's big
officer
took a
fast practiced
head (epaulettes, or no, he had a
driver deftly
dodged
it.
He
skill
swing
the
at
or two), but the
clapped his runty hands and bobbed
back inside the cab.
"What oh what shall we ever do now?" wailed the him with undisguised disgust. Paul
doctor scowled at
was
strangling, but he could locate
no
specific
"Dear lord above! There's wheels on each
officer.
The
felt like
he
pain past his neck.
side of
him and wheels
in
the middle!" "Capital!" the doctor snorted. "Figure that out by yourself, or
somebody help you?" "You're making fun," whimpered the
officer.
"And you're murdering this man!" bellowed the doctor. The police officer uttered a short anxious cry, then raced
to the
front of the truck again. Hostility welling in the crowd, Paul could
hear
it.
please,
I
"Okay, okay!" cried the don't care, but hurry!
The motor
started
up
abrading, then slowly set of
wheels backed
down
officer.
Hurry!"
again, there
was a jarring grind of gears
slowly
slowly
off Paul's body.
interim before the next set climbed
wheel
the
There was a
up on him,
hesitates at the top of its ambit, then
Some time
"Back up or go forward,
sank
middle
brief tense
hesitated as a ferris
down off him.
passed.
He opened his eyes. The
truck had backed away, out of sight, out of Paul's limited
range of sight anyway. His eyelids weighed closed.
He remembered
the doctor being huddled over him, shreds of his clothing being
peeled away.
Much
later,
or perhaps not, he opened his eyes once more.
The
A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT
201
doctor and the policeman were standing over him,
people too, people he didn't recognize, though he
ought
to
know
world
for all the
as
charging admission.
up
warm
to see,
men were
though she had
Some
set
up a
fact, it
looked
booth and was
ticket
of the people were holding
faces, tender,
somehow he
felt
them. Mrs. Grundy, she was there; in
some other
children
little
compassionate; more or
less.
News-
taking his picture. "You'll be famous," one of them said.
"His goddamn body
like a
is
mulligan stew," the doctor was
telling a reporter.
The policeman shook
his head.
He
was a
"Do you
bit green.
think-?"
"Do
think what?" the doctor asked.
I
raking old man's laugh. "You mean, do
He
Then he
laughed, a thin
think he's going to die?"
I
laughed again. "Good God, man, you can see for yourself!
There's nothing
left
an appetizing one
of him, he's a
at that!"
He
goddamn
gallimaufry, and hardly
dipped his fingers into Paul, licked
them, grimaced. "Foo!"
we
"I think
should get a blanket for him," the policeman said
weakly.
"Of course you should!" snapped
the doctor, wiping his stained
hands on a small white towel he had brought out of
He
peered
down through
there,
eh?"
damn
thing
your
lip.
He I
squatted beside him. "I'm sorry, son. There's not a
can do. Well, yes,
You've
see, there's
little
use for
no function
doctor started to pitch don't they use let's
be honest:
tickled
you you
them it
for
it
suppose
eh?"
it, it,
I
is
He
there?
I
can take
laughed
No,
away, then pocketed
for the eyes
?
softly.
no, there it
penny
"Now, is."
The
The
eyes,
it
instead.
off
let's
"Well, that's better, I'm sure. But
where the penny had been. "No, I'm of
goddamn
this
doesn't get to the real problem, does it?" Paul's lip
there, boy. I can't
to the
his black bag.
his rimless spectacles at Paul, smiled. "Still
all
too
little
use to
even prescribe a soporific platitude. Leave that
priests,
eh?
like a priest?"
No thanks, said Paul.
Hee hee
hee! Oops, sorry, son!
Would
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
202
"Can't get
"Hmmm.
eh?" The
out,
it
No, obviously
not."
He
Paul's
neck.
What
He
could you possibly have to say, eh?"
up
who
policeman
at the
had not
still
probed
doctor
shrugged. "Just as well.
"Don't just stand there, man! Get
chuckled
then looked
drily,
search out a blanket.
left to
The
this lad a priest!"
police
officer,
clutching his mouth, hurried away, out of Paul's eye-reach. "I
know
it's
He
not easy to accept death," the doctor was saying.
wiping
finished
hands, tossed the towel into his black bag,
his
snapped the bag shut.
"We
all
struggle against
it,
boy,
it's
part
and
parcel of being alive, this brawl, this meaningless gutterfight with
death. In fact,
let
me
tell
to life."
He wagged
and ended by pressing the
tip of it to
you, son,
his finger in punctuation,
there
it's all
Paul's nose. "That's the secret, that's
my
is
happy paregoric! Hee hee
hee!"
KI, thought Paul. KI and 14. What know now. One of those things.
"But death begets forget
life,
Survival and
it!
my
there's that,
murder
—oh!
Hee hee h
universe!
could
it
have been? Never
boy, and don't you ever
are synonyms, son,
Sorry, son!
No
first
flaw of the
time for puns! Forget
I
said it!" It's
him
okay, said Paul. Listening to the doctor had at least
forget the tickle
"New
life
on
his lip
and
burgeons out of
it
rot,
new mouths consume
old orga-
nisms, father dies at orgasm, mother dies at birth, only old
Mass with her twin dugs long slow
split into
of Stuff
made
was gone.
and Tickle
pure light and pure carbon!
tender thought! Don't you agree, lad?"
The
Dame
persists, suffering
Hee hee
her
hee!
A
doctor gazed off into
space, happily contemplating the process. I tell
you what,
Just then, the
said Paul. Let's forget
policeman returned with a big quilted comforter,
and he and the doctor spread his face exposed.
it.
The
it
gently over Paul's body, leaving only
people pressed closer to watch.
"Back! Bac{!" shouted the policeman. "Have you no respect for the dying? Bac\, I say I"
A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT "Oh, come now,"
want
to. It
203
chicled the doctor. "Let
them watch
hardly matters to this poor fellow, and even
much
can't matter for
And
longer.
it
if it
will help keep the
they
if
does,
it
or?
flies
him." "Well, doctor,
you think
if
.
."
.
His voice faded away. Paul
closed his eyes.
As he
lay
couldn't rid
And
book?
And what history,
And its
among
there
odd questions
the curious, several
He knew
was no point to them, but he himself of them. The book, for example did he have a if he did, what book, and what had happened to it?
plagued Paul's mind.
there
:
about the stoplight, that
lost
why had no one brought up
increment of what
purity consist of? KI. 14.
as for light:
That impression
were mysteries,
call
the matter of the stoplight?
pure carbon he could understand, but
before. Yes, these
men
all right.
that
what could
had happened
it
His head ached from
them. People approached Paul from time to time to look under the
Some
blanket.
only peeked, then turned away, while others stayed to
poke around, dip
their
hands
in the mutilations.
There seemed
to
be
them now that they were covered. There were some arguments and some occasional horseplay, but the doctor and police-
more
interest in
man
kept things from getting out of hand.
If
someone arrogantly
ventured a Latin phrase, the doctor always put him
some
barbarism; on the other hand, he reserved his
toilet-wall
purest,
most mellifluous toponymy
He made
girls.
to
for small children
open
his eyes after
The
having had them closed some while, the
policeman smiled warmly
down on him and
good
Take
fellow. I'm
the very end.
and young
several medical appointments with the latter.
though queasy, stayed nearby. Once, when Paul hap-
police officer,
pened
down with
still
You
here.
it
as easy as
said:
"Don't worry,
you can.
I'll
be here to
can count on me." Bullshit, thought Paul, though
not ungratefully, and he thought he remembered hearing the doctor
echo him as he
When
fell off to sleep.
he awoke, the
streets
were empty. They had
all
wearied
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
204
of
it,
he had
as
darkened,
He
could
known
they would.
was probably
it
now
and
night,
it
over, the sky
had begun
see the truck clearly, off to his left.
way
people in the
had clouded
It
had
to rain lightly.
Must have been
before.
MAGIC
KISS LIPSTICK IN
DIFFERENT SHADES
Never would have guessed. Only
in true life could such things
happen.
When man
he glanced to his right, he was surprised to find an old
sitting near
him.
Priest,
no doubt.
He
had come
black hat, long grayish beard, sitting in the puddles the street, legs crossed.
Go
on, said Paul, don't suffer
don't wait for me, but the old glistening
The
on
and hanging
he noticed. At short
start,
now forming on
silent,
intervals, the old
body would
cross, his
in tatters.
tip,
The
finally relax
let
them
squinted off to the
fall
left,
padded along
up with
the rain.
man's head would nod, his
closed once more.
It
priest, so
toward the truck.
down
at Paul,
in the puddles, hair
But he began suffering he opened them again,
A
small dog, wiry and
drooping and bunching
sniffed at the tires of the truck, lifted
ently not noticing him, but
poking
its
It circled
its
legs
by
around Paul, appar-
nose at every object, narrow-
ing the distance between them with every
man,
that
he would catch himself with a
one of them, sniffed again, padded on.
the old
now
again and recommence the cycle.
discomforting visions of the old
yellow,
in
account,
wearied, especially with the rain splashing into
Paul's eyes
them, so he
.
drawn, rain
hat, too,
grunt, glance suspiciously about him, then back
would
my
.
something about the clothes: well, they were in
rags. Pieced together
would
remained,
.
his hat, face, beard, clothes: prosopopoeia of patience.
priest. Yet,
eyes
man
after all
circle. It
snarled, completed another half-circle,
passed close by
and approached
A PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT
205
—the wet-dog odor
Paul from the
left. It
was suffocating
—and whimpered, licking Paul's face. The old man
did nothing, just .
.
.
sat, legs
not a priest at
he died. him,
If
he
stopped near Paul's head
still
crossed,
and
passively watched.
an old beggar. Waiting
all:
had any.
Go
Of
for the clothes
when
ahead and take them now, Paul told
don't care. But the beggar only sat and stared. Paul
I
course
felt
a
tugging sensation from below, heard the dog growl. His whole body
seemed
The
to jerk
upwards, sending another hot
flash
through
dog's hind feet were planted alongside Paul's head,
and again the
right
paw would
and
water out of
between
its
waves of hot pain behind
something gave way, The dog shook
yellow coat, and padded away, a fresh piece of flesh
jaws.
and he
chest,
eyes. Finally,
its
now
lose its footing, kick nervously at
Paul's face, a buffeting counterpoint to the his throat
his neck.
and
The
beggar's eyes crossed, his head dipped to his
started to topple forward, but again
took a deep breath, uncrossed his
legs, crossed
he caught himself,
them
again, but the
opposite way, reached in his pocket and pulled out an old cigarette butt,
molded
did not light
it it.
between
For an
his yellow fingers,
instant, the earth
found himself hung on the raindarts
somebody out
nobody out again. lids.
there,
The beggar
He
it
was throwing
he reminded himself, and that spat.
mouth, but
at
him. There's
set the earth right
Paul shielded his eyes from the rain with his
thought he heard other dogs.
go on ? he wondered.
in his
a target for the millions of
street,
in the night
put
upended again, and Paul
How much
How much longer ?
longer must this
THE BABYSITTER She
arrives at 7:40, ten
Bitsy, are yet.
From
still
minutes
but the children,
late,
Jimmy and
eating supper, and their parents are not ready to go
other rooms
come
the sounds of a baby screaming, water
running, a television musical (no words: probably a dance ber
—
patterns of gliding figures
come
to
into the kitchen, fussing with her hair, full of
she
milk out of a pan of
calls.
"The
warm
and snatches
a baby bottle
water, rushes out again. "Harry!"
babysitter's here already!"
That's
My
Desire?
faintly
with
his head, rubs his fast balding pate.
206
num-
mind). Mrs. Tucker sweeps
I'll
Be Around?
He
smiles toothily, beckons
Bewitched, maybe?
THE BABYSITTER
207
Or, What's the Reason ?
The baby
is
is
his shorts, gives his hips a slap.
that's
who
used
to do.
His
it.
with her
make
and
babysitting at the Tuckers',
the kids in bed,
gets to
on
wandering around town, not knowing what
girlfriend
TV
pulls
Who's Sorry Now,
their tub last time?
Jack
He
goes silent in mid-scream. Isn't this the one
maybe
when out a
he'll
she's babysitting,
little
to be careful because
later,
when
own
since he doesn't
wheels, but they have
have
it
have
like their sitters to
makes her nervous. She won't
her eyes because she has to be watching the door really
got
about the only chance he
it's
most people don't
boyfriends over. Just kissing her
Married people
she's
drop over there. Sometimes he watches
all
close
the time.
good, he thinks.
"Hi," the babysitter says to the children, and puts her books on top
The
of the refrigerator. "What's for supper?" stares at her obliquely. table. "I don't flatly,
and
joins
them
at the
Bitsy, only
end of the kitchen
have to go to bed until nine," the boy announces
stuffs
his
catches a glimpse of his
She
little girl,
mouth
full of
potato chips.
The
babysitter
Mr. Tucker hurrying out of the bathroom
in
underwear.
Her tummy. Under places. She'll
her arms.
And
her
feet.
Those
are the best
spank him, she says sometimes. Let her.
That sweet odor
that girls have.
catches a glimpse of the gentle
her legs up under her.
meaning packed
He
The
softness of her blouse.
shadows amid her
stares
hard
at her.
He
thighs, as she curls
He
has a
lot
of
into that stare, but she's not even looking. She's
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
208
popping her
gum and
watching
He
buddy Mark
notices his
television. She's sitting right there,
and ready: but what's
inches away, soft, fragrant,
his next
move?
in the drugstore, playing the pinball
machine, and joins him. "Hey,
this
mama's
cold, Jack baby!
She
needs your touch!"
Mrs. Tucker appears at the kitchen doorway, holding a rolled-up
"Now,
diaper. his
Jimmy! See
don't just eat potato chips,
that he eats
hamburger, dear." She hurries away to the bathroom. The boy
glares sullenly at the babysitter, silently daring her to carry out the
order.
"How
about a
she says perfunctorily. is
silent
and a
man
is
of that
little
He
lets
good hamburger now, Jimmy?"
half of
it
floor. The baby TV. The children
drop to the
singing a love song on the
crunch chips.
He
loves her.
She loves him. They whirl
breeze, through a magical landscape of rose blue.
Her
light
brown
hair coils
the soft folds of her white
away.
gown
stirring a light
and emerald and deep
softly in the breeze,
tug at her body and then
and float
He smiles in a pulsing crescendo of sincerity and song.
"You mean
she's
kids," Jack says.
alone?"
He
Mark
asks. "Well, there's
slides the coin in.
tumbling, lining up. ball
and wisps
airily,
He
two or three
There's a rumble of
steel balls
pushes a plunger with his thumb, and one
pops up in place, hard and glittering with promise. His stare?
to say
he loves her. That he cares for her and would protect her,
would
shield her,
if
need
be,
with his
own
body. Grinning, he bends
over the ball to take careful aim: he and
Mark have
machine and have
not that easy to beat.
it
figured out, but
still it's
studied this
THE BABYSITTER
209
On the drive to the party, his mind own
is
partly
on the
girl, partly
on
his
high-school days, long past. Sitting at the end of the kitchen
had seemed
table there with his children, she
to
be self-consciously
arching her back, jutting her pert breasts, twitching her thighs: and
whom if not for him? So she'd seen him coming out of there, after all. He smiles. Yet what could he ever do about it ? Those good times are gone, old man. He glances over at his wife, who, readjustfor
"What do you think of our babysitter?"
ing a garter, asks:
He
She loves him.
loves her.
diapers
And
And
and one goddamn meal
Not
fat.
then the babies come.
women
something from too-tight a grunt, strangely
Somewhere
re-
getting heart attacks or cancer or
girdles.
irritated,
dirty
after another. Dishes. Noise. Clutter.
just tight, her girdle actually hurts.
cently she's read about
And
Dolly pulls the car door shut with
not knowing why. Party mood.
Why
is
humming, "Who's Sorry Now?" Pulling out of the back at the lighted kitchen window. "What do
her husband
drive, she glances
you think of our babysitter?" she all
asks.
While her husband stumbles
over himself trying to answer, she pulls a stocking tight, biting
deeper with the garters.
"Stop
it!"
her in the
she laughs. Bitsy
stop
him/ He
they
all fall to
in a tuxedo
pulling on her skirt and he
the carpet in front of the
and
a
tapdance together.
showing
is
is
tickling
"Jimmy! Don't!" But she is laughing too much to leaps on her, wrapping his legs around her waist, and
ribs.
little girl
The
a patch of bare
TV, where
just
now
a
man
in a flouncy white dress are doing a
babysitter's blouse
tummy:
is
the target.
pulling out of her skirt,
"I'll
spank!"
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
210
Jack pushes the plunger, thrusting up a
"You
studiously over the machine.
and
clears his throat, flicks ash
steel
and bends
ball,
getting any off her?"
from
Mark
asks,
his cigarette. "Well, not exactly,
not yet," Jack says, grinning awkwardly, but trying to suggest more
than he admits
machine
to,
and
as the ball
warming up under
when
lit:
now! "Got
"Maybe you need some
my hand
on
about
that's
it,
feel
lights,
all."
Mark
wry one-sided
lip.
grin.
we could do it."
salts,
and
loves to
sink into the hot fragrant suds. She can stretch out, submerged,
good
to her chin. It gives her a
"What do you garter.
"Oh,
I
think of our babysitter?" Dolly asks, adjusting a
down, glances
"I'm not sure
I
"I don't
know." His wife tugs her
window
they are passing, adding:
little careless.
wife's broad gartered thigh.
tiny
and
and rubbery
giving
him
the baby, I
other time, I'm almost claps
one hand on his
"What's wrong with that?" he
soft adolescent flesh.
vague remembrances of football
How
And the He grins,
With
all.
asks.
Bare thighs, no girdles, nothing up there but a
flimsy pair of panties
legs,
to get
Why?"
had a boyfriend over."
Still in anklets, too.
She seems
girl.
at a lighted
trust her completely, that's
mean. She seems a sure she
up
sleepy tingly feeling.
hardly noticed," he says. "Cute
along fine with the kids. skirt
her
alive,
dangling from his
cigarette
big tub. She uses the Tuckers' bath
likes the
can
suddenly coming
help," he suggests with a
"Like maybe together, man,
He
rubber bumper.
emerging in the flashing of the
up from the machine,
glances
She
heaves his weight gently against the
off a
his hands, the flippers
delicate rapid-fire patterns
iooo
He
fires.
bounds
it is!
rallies
and movie
He's flooded with balconies.
she thinks, soaping between the boy's
his bath. Just a
funny
jiggly
little
thing that looks
THE BABYSITTER like
it
211
shouldn't even be there at
all. Is
that
what
the songs are
all
about?
Jack watches
Mark lunge and
Got her
twist against the machine.
running now, racking them up. He's not too excited about the idea of
Mark
fooling around with his girlfriend, but Mark's a cooler
operator than he
over his girls
own
around.
is,
and maybe, doing
And
timidity.
Mark went
If
if
it
together this once, he'd get
she didn't like
feels his
shoulders tense: enough's enough,
flesh, too.
"Maybe
I'll
call
man
"No, no, you're one of the
first,
you're looking younger every day!
your
secret, will
8 :oo.
The
He
you?"
Mr. Tucker's back,
leads
there were other
him .
.
.
off, too.
pats her
them
hope we're not
it!" "I
come on
in!
How do you do
By it?
golly, Dolly,
Give
my
on her girdled bottom behind
combs her
hair in front of
the bathroom mirror. There's a western on television, so she
want a
it
bath. She's angry
and crying because she has
if she'll
Jimmy
girl fights to get
lets
while she gives Bitsy her bath. But Bitsy doesn't
babysitter tells her television while
wife
in for drinks.
babysitter runs water in the tub,
Jimmy watch
He
but sees the
her later," he says.
"Hey, Harry! Dolly! Glad you could make late."
it,
too far, he could cut
to be
take her bath quickly, she'll
takes his bath, but
it
let
does no good.
first.
The
her watch
The
little
out of the bathroom, and the babysitter has to squat
with her back against the door and forcibly undress the child. There are better places to babysit.
sooner or
more
later,
bottle.
the baby
is
Both children mind badly, and then,
sure to
wake up
for a diaper
change and
The Tuckers do have a good color TV, though, and she down enough to catch the 8 .30 program.
hopes things will be settled
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
212
She thrusts the child into the tub, but thrashing around. "Stop
now,
it
and blouse
wet in the
all
knows
mirror. Before she
bathroom. "Bitsy!
"Okay,
that's
crying.
"Who
tackles him.
roll
crashes to the floor.
hope
it's
the girl
skirt
is
the
and out of the
ripped and she's flushed and bastard goes for her, but he
and tumble. Tables
He
tip, lights topple,
the
TV
slams a hard right to the guy's gut, clips his
left.
a girl." That's hardly surprising, since they already
have four boys. Dolly congratulates the but she doesn't envy her, not a
She
getting her skirt
at herself in
off the seat
is
man!" The
says?" "I do,
They
toilet,
She glances
Come back here!"
enough!" Her
chin with a rolling
"We
tub and onto the process.
it,
screaming and
still
wake the baby!" "I switching tactics. The babysitter
have to go potty!" the child wails, sighs, lifts the girl out of the
she's
Bitsy, or you'll
stares across the
room
at
bit.
woman
That's
all
who
Harry,
like
everybody
else,
she needs about now. is
slapping backs and
getting loud, as usual. He's spreading out through the middle, so
why
the hell does he have to complain about her
all
the time?
"Dolly, you're looking younger every day!" was the nice greeting
And Harry: fat." "Haw haw!
she got tonight. "What's your secret?" calories. She's getting
back her baby
"It's all
those
Harry, have a
heart!"
"Get her
feet!"
over her naked
he hollers
at Bitsy, his fingers in her ribs,
tummy, tangling
running
in the
underbrush of straps and
He
holds her pinned by press-
strange clothing. "Get her shoes off!"
ing his head against her soft chest. "No! No, Jimmy! Bitsy, stop!"
But though she kicks and
twists
and
rolls
around, she doesn't get
up, she can't get up, she's laughing too hard, and the shoes
come
off,
THE BABYSITTER and he grabs she raises
213
a stockinged foot
up her
hangs on, and
and
scratches the sole ruthlessly,
legs, trying to pitch
she's laughing,
him
off, she's
and on the screen
and
wild, boy, but he there's a rattle of
hooves, and he and Bitsy are rolling around and around on the floor in a crazy rodeo of long
He
slips the
bucking
legs.
coin in. There's a metallic
dial tone begins. "I
fall
and a sharp
hope the Tuckers have gone," he
worry, they're at our place,"
ones to come and the
last
Mark
says.
click as the says.
"Don't
"They're always the
ones to go home.
My
first
old man's always
bitching about them." Jack laughs nervously and dials the number.
coming over to protect her from getting raped," and lights a cigarette. Jack grins, leaning casually
"Tell her we're
Mark
suggests,
against the door
jamb
of the phonebooth,
chewing gum, one hand
in his pocket. He's really pretty uneasy, though. he's
somehow messing up
naked
Bitsy runs herself
and the
Artificial reds
a
has the feeling
into the livingroom, keeping a hassock
babysitter. "Bitsy
.
.
.
and greens and purples
body, as hooves
He
good thing.
clatter,
guns
crackle,
!"
between
the babysitter threatens.
flicker
over the child's wet
and stagecoach wheels thunder
over rutted terrain. "Get outa the way, Bitsy!" the boy complains. "I can't see!" Bitsy streaks past girl in the
in the
and the
babysitter chases, cornering the
back bedroom. Bitsy throws something that
face,:
hits her softly
a pair of men's undershorts. She grabs the girl scamper-
ing by, carries her struggling to the bathroom, and with a smart crack on her glistening bottom; pops her back into the tub. In spite, Bitsy peepees in the bathwater.
Mr. Tucker
stirs
host and another
a
little
man,
water into his bourbon and kids with his
just arrived,
about their golf games. They
set
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
214
up a match for the weekend, a threesome looking for a fourth. Holding his drink in his right hand, Mr. Tucker swings his left through the motion of a tee-shot. "You'll have to give me a stroke a hole," he says. "I'll give you a stroke!" says his host: "Bend over!" Laughing, the other "I don't
Then
know,"
man
asks:
"Where's your boy Mark tonight?"
replies the host, gathering
up
he adds in a low growl: "Out chasing
a trayful of drinks. tail
probably."
They
chuckle loosely at that, then shrug in commiseration and return to the livingroom to join their
women.
TV. Under
Shades pulled. Door locked. Watching the
maybe. Yes, kisses her.
A
that's right,
Her
breasts,
hard blow to the
under a blanket. Her eyes
under both
The
belly.
when he
and
yielding.
The dark beardy one
staggers.
their hands, are soft
face.
a blanket
close
The lean-jawed sheriff moves in, but gets a spurred boot in his face. The dark one hurls himself forward, drives his shoulder into the sheriff's hard midriff, her own tummy tightens, withstands, as the sheriff smashes the dark man's nose, slams him up against a wall, slugs him again! and again! The dark man grunts rhythmically, backs off, then plunges suicidally forward—her own knees draw up protectively
—the sheriff staggers!
ing through, the other
the sheriff draws!
pistol!
her hands
clutches
wounded! set,
man
the dark
steps
caught low! but instead of follow-
back
shoots
—a
between her thighs
man
hesitates, aims,
dark one has a
pistol! the
from the
hip!
—no!
explosions!
the
sheriff
she
spins!
her legs stiffen toward the
the sheriff rolls desperately in the straw, fires: dead! the dark
man
is
dead! groans, crumples, his pistol drooping in his collapsing
hand, dropping, he drops.
from the
floor
and
right! to
The
sheriff,
bruised
where he
The
lies.
sheriff, spent,
Oh,
to
nicked, watches weakly
be whole! to be good and strong
embrace and be embraced by harmony and wholeness!
drawing himself painfully up on one elbow, rubs
mouth with
the back of his other hand.
his
THE BABYSITTER
we
"Well,
215
thought we'd drop over," he
just sorta
broadly at Mark. "Who's
good thing
on
his
we?" "Oh, me and Mark
like her, gotta pass
it
and winks
says,
here." "Tell her,
around," whispers Mark, dragging
smoke, then flicking the butt over under the pinball machine.
"What's that?" she
"Oh, Mark and
asks.
were
I
just saying, like
two's company, three's an orgy," Jack says, and winks again. She
"Oh, Jack!" Behind
giggles.
"Well, okay, for just a go,
little
he can hear shouts and gunfire.
her,
while,
you'll
if
Way
both be good."
to
man.
Probably some
damn
kid over there right now. Wrestling around on
TV. Maybe he should drop back None of that stuff, she was there to do
the couch in front of his house. Just to check.
Park the car a couple doors down,
knows
it.
He
sees the disarray of clothing, the
young thighs exposed
baby crying. "Hey, what's
going on here! Get outa here, son, before
I
skirt
know how. He
rumpled
benignly
around her
loosely
excited, she stares
stares
back
He
him.
at
Of
the police!"
call
They probably
course, they haven't really been doing anything.
don't even
a job!
the front door before she
slip in
to the flickering television light, hears his
to the
down upon
the
girl,
her
thighs. Flushed, frightened, yet smiles.
His finger touches
a knee,
approaches the hem. Another couple arrives. Filling up here with people.
He
wouldn't be missed. Just
slip out, stop
pick up something or other he forgot, never bers that die other time they their house.
and casually
or
ished, yet strangely
water, and her left
something.
I
only
.
moved. Her
tummy
Aspirin
bathroom
into the
"Oh, excuse me, dear!
pubic hairs,
this babysitter, she
She liad a date afterwards, and she'd
cheerleading practice quietly
had
back casually
.
.
!"
soft
in the tub,
come from
maybe. Just drop
to pick
up some
breasts rise
looks pale and ripply.
took a bath in
just
She gazes back
wet
to
mind what. He remem-
He
were brown. Light brown.
at
aspirin.
him, aston-
and
fall
in the
recalls that
her
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
216
no more than stepped
She's
Jimmy announces from bathroom. She sighs:
The
wait."
into the tub for a quick bath,
outside the door that he has to go to the
an excuse, she knows. "You'll have
just
nuisance. "I can't wait." "Okay, then
little
when
but I'm taking a bath." She supposes that will stop him, but
he comes. She
doesn't. In level to,"
slides
with the edge of the tub.
she says, a
he
look,"
says.
She's crying.
Mark
shattered.
lies
here!"
Her
panties
lie
skirt
is
on the
wounds, help her
He
it
into the suds until she's eye-
hesitates.
"Go
ahead,
if
you have
awkwardly, "but I'm not getting out." "Don't
little
She: "I will
A
lamp
down
to
come ahead,
is
if I
want
to."
rubbing his jaw where
he's just slugged
Now
"Enough's enough, Mark!
ripped to the waist, her bare hip bruised.
floor like a
broken balloon. Later,
dress, he'll take care of her. Pity
him, giving him a sudden hard-on.
Mark
laughs at
him.
get outa
Her
wash her
he'll
washes through it,
pointing. Jack
crouches, waiting, ready for anything.
Laughing, they
roll
and tumble. Their
little
hands are
all
over her,
digging and pinching. She struggles to her hands and knees, but Bitsy leaps astride her neck,
bowing her head
to the carpet.
"Spank
Jimmy!" His swats sting: is her skirt up? The phone rings. "The cavalry to the rescue!" she laughs, and throws them off to go her,
answer.
Kissing Mark, her eyes closed, her hips nudge toward Jack. stares
at
the
TV
screen,
cautiously under her skirt. resist,
was
a
Her hand
then brushes on by to rub his
good
idea.
"Hi! This
He
unsure of himself, one hand slipping
is
Jack!"
touches his
leg.
arm
as
though
to
This blanket they're under
THE BABYSITTER
Bitsy's
217
"Come on, Jimmy, your turn!" his own baths, but she came in
out and the water's running.
Last time, he told her he took
'Tm not gonna take a bath," he announces, eyes glued on the set. He readies for the struggle. "But I've already run your water. Come on, Jimmy, please!" He shakes his head. She can't make him, anyway.
he's sure he's as strong as she
is.
She
sighs.
He
use the water myself then," she says.
"Well,
to you.
I'll
waits until he's pretty sure
not going to change her mind, then sneaks in and peeks
she's
through the keyhole in the bathroom door: big bottom as she bends over to
Trying
disappears.
bumps to the
Not
up
it's
his
to see as far
time to see her
just in
Then
in the bubblebath.
stir
down
head on the knob. "Jimmy,
is
she
keyhole will allow, he
as the
you?"
that
"I
—
I
have to go
bathroom!" he stammers.
actually in the tub, just getting in.
One
foot
on the mat, the
other in the water. Bent over slightly, buttocks flexed, teats swaying,
holding on to the edge of the tub. "Oh, excuse me! .
.
.
!"
He
moves quickly are
to the part
you doing, Harry?"
where he reaches
I
only wanted
awkward excuses, "What on earth out to
passes over her astonishment,
the
—
his wife asks, staring at his hand.
passing, laughs. "He's practicing his
swing
for
His
host,
Sunday, Dolly, but
him a damn bit of good!" Mr. Tucker laughs, sweeps his right hand on through the air as though lifting a seveniron shot onto the green. He makes a do\l sound with his tongue.
it's
not going to do
"In there!"
"No, Jack,
I
don't think you'd better." "Well,
uh, thought we'd, you
know, stop by
we
just called,
for a minute,
watch
we
just,
television
"Who's we?" "Well, Mark's he'd like to, you know, like if it's all
for thirty minutes, or, or something." here, I'm with him, right,
and he
just—" "Well,
it's
said
not
all right.
The Tuckers
said no." "Yeah,
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
218
—
we only " "And they seemed awfully suspicious about last time." "Why? We didn't— I mean, I just thought—" "No, Jack, and that's period." She hangs up. She returns to the TV, but the combut
if
is on. Anyway, she's missed most of the show. She decides maybe she'll take a quick bath. Jack might come by anyway, it'd make her mad, that'd be the end as far as he was concerned, but if he should, she doesn't want to be all sweaty. And besides, she likes
mercial
the big tub the Tuckers have.
He
is
come,
and stands with
self-conscious
flushed. It takes it's
him
his
back
forever to get started,
just a tiny trickle. "See,
it
was
it
finally
an excuse," she
just
neck
to her, his little
and when
does
scolds,
but she's giggling inwardly at the boy's embarrassment. "You're just
At
a nuisance, Jimmy." staring timidly
the door, his
down on
his shoes.
hand on
the knob, he hesitates,
"Jimmy?" She peeks
at
him over
the edge of the tub, trying to keep a straight face, as he sneaks a
nervous glance back over his shoulder. "As long as you bothered
me," she
"The
says,
aspirin
"you might
.
.
."
as well soap
They embrace. She huddles
child. Lovingly, paternally,
How compact, how stares
down
my back."
past her
tight
and small her body
rump
in his
arms
like a
knowledgeably, he wraps her nakedness.
at the
still
is!
Kissing her ear, he
clear water. "I'll join you,"
he
whispers hoarsely.
She picks up the shorts Bitsy threw
at her.
Men's underwear. She
holds them in front of her, looks at herself in the bedroom mirror.
About twenty
sizes too big for her, of course.
inside the opening in front, pulls out her feel!
thumb.
She runs her hand
How funny
it
must
THE BABYSITTER
"Well, man, his
I
219
say
we
go rape
just
Mark
her,"
says flatly,
and swings
weight against the pinball machine. "Uff Ahh! Get in there, you !
mother! Look at that! Hah! Man, I'm gonna turn Jack
is
this
embarrassed about the phone conversation.
when he hung
snorted in disgust
gum, angry
He
up.
baby over!"
Mark
just
down hard on his game if you are," he
cracks
that he's such a chicken. "Well, I'm
says coldly.
8:30.
"Okay, come on, Jimmy,
western gives
way
to a spy
livingroom. "No, Bitsy,
watch!" the
girl
it's
it's
and right now!" Jimmy so she can follow
Bitsy, in pajamas,
starts to
late.
Jimmy, you get
Jimmy
unmoving. The
television
gives himself his
program
own
baths.
the commercial interrupts, she turns off the sound, stands in
front of the screen. "Okay, into the tub,
They stand
Jimmy Tucker,
on the
floor,
playing with the kids.
She gets
to her
on her head, pressing her
and the
little
to beat
Too many
Too
on
it.
early.
says,
They seem
"Hey, look
neighbors, too
people in the world. That he's
take
he
little girl
to
be
leaps
face to the floor. There's an obvious target,
boy proceeds
uneasy out here.
:
I'll
hands and knees, but the
whispers Mark, laughing and snapping his fingers
though
or
try it,"
outside, in the dark, crouched in the bushes, peeking in.
tickling her.
many
could
I
in that bathroom,
you in there and give you your bath myself!" "Just "and see what happens."
She's
pads into the
throw another tantrum. "But
opening scene of the
since
it later,
The
ignores her.
stares sullenly at the set,
babysitter tries to catch the
When
show.
He
time to go to bed." "You said
whines, and
you were too slow and
time."
it's
little
many
cars
boy in there
never thought about tickling her as a
at that kid go!" softly.
is
Jack feels
going by, too
one up on him,
starter.
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
220
His
hand, clutching the bar of soap, lathers shyly a narrow
little
space between her shoulderblades. She
is
her knees, buried in rich suds, peeking at
The
shoulder.
water. "I
"I
.
.
the edge of her
soap slithers out of his grip and plunks into the I
.
doubled forward against
him over
dropped the soap," he whispers. She: "Find
it."
dream of Jeannie with the light brown pubic hair!" "Harry! Stop You're drunk!" But they're laughing, they're all laughing,
that!
damn! he's feeling pretty goddamn good at that, and now he just knows he needs that aspirin. Watching her there, her thighs spread for him,
on the couch,
in the tub, hell,
on the kitchen
on Number Nine, and
matter, he tees off
whapl
table for that
—swats his host's
wife on the bottom. "Hole in one!" he shouts. "Harry!"
Why
can't
his
goddamn
wife Dolly ever get happy-drunk instead of sour-drunk
all
the time?
"Gonna be tough Sunday,
tough right now, Harry," says
The
babysitter lunges forward, grabs the
him
off the couch, pulling
toward the bathroom. of magazines cries
and
they
all
go.
sitter
On
boy by the arms and hauls
two cushions with him, and drags him
lashes out,
ashtrays.
and grabs the
down
He
old buddy!" "You're pretty
his host.
"You
knocking over an endtable
leave
my
full
brother alone!" Bitsy
around the waist. Jimmy jumps on her and
the silent screen, there's a fade-in to a dark
passageway in an old apartment building in some foreign country.
She kicks out and somebody sitting
on her
face.
falls
between her
"Jimmy! Stop
legs.
Somebody
else is
that!" the babysitter laughs, her
voice muffled.
She's watching television. All alone. It seems like a in. Just
remember:
really,
no matter what she
to
go
wants
it.
good time
says, she
They're standing in the bushes, trying to get up the nerve. "We'll
THE BABYSITTER
221
her to be good,"
tell
Mark
spank her." Jack giggles
They
whispers, "and
softly,
She looks right
freeze.
if
not good, we'll
she's
but his knees are weak. She stands. at
Mark
them. "She can't see us,"
whispers tensely. "Is she coming out?" "No," says Mark, "she's
—that must be the bathroom!" Jack takes a deep breath,
going into
pounding. "Hey,
his heart
is
window back
there a
Mark
there?"
asks.
The phone a tug
on
rings.
She leaves the tub, wrapped
the towel. "Hey,
in a towel. Bitsy gives
Jimmy, get the towel!" she
squeals.
"Now hand
stop that, Bitsy!" the babysitter hisses, but too late: with one
on the phone, the other
isn't
enough
sudden nakedness awes them and
remember about
tickling her.
By
window
little
—
is
Her
it
takes
to the towel.
them
a
Her
moment
to
frightened. "Hello?"
angrily.
No
She
feels chilled
and
answer. She glances at the
somebody out there? Something, she saw something,
and a rustling
"Okay,
hang on
then, she's in the towel again. "I
hope you got a good look," she says oddly a
to
—footsteps
?
don't care, Jimmy, don't take a bath," she says irritably.
I
blouse
is
pulled out and wrinkled, her hair
is
all
mussed, and
she feels sweaty. There's about a million things she'd rather be
doing than babysitting with these two. Three: sleeping.
She knocks on the overturned endtable for luck,
replaces the magazines
makes her go
to
bed
at least the baby's
sick
is
and
The one
ashtrays.
a dirty diaper. "Just go
until nine,"
on
rights
it,
thing that really
to bed." "I don't
have to
he reminds her. Really, she couldn't care
less.
She turns up the volume on the TV, settles down on the couch, poking her blouse back into her skirt, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
Jimmy and
Bitsy
watch from the
floor.
Maybe, once
bed, she'll take a quick bath. She wishes Jack
man, no doubt the
spy,
is
following a
they're in
would come
woman, but
The know
by.
she doesn't
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
222
why. The but
it's
phone
Mark down
woman
happen,
to
The
rings.
is
kissing her. Jack
is
under the blanket, easing her panties
Her hand
over her squirming hips.
out, pulling
Mark
was!
man. Something seems
passes another
not clear what. She's probably already missed too much.
toward
it
her, pulling
God,
stripping, too.
is
with a kind of pious
joy,
it
and
is
in his pants, pulling
hard. She
it's
really
knew
just
where
it it
happening! he thinks
open door. "Hey! What's
notices the
going on here?"
He
soaps her back, smooth
and
slippery
under
doubled over, against her knees, between his hair, reaching to her
soap it
slips,
gleaming shoulders,
between
falls
behind him. "Help
He
his legs.
me
find
is
legs.
wet
his hand.
She
Her
brown
light
at the edges.
The
finds
slips
fishes for
it,
he whispers in her
it,"
is
it,
ear.
"Sure
Harry," says his host, going around behind him. "What'd you lose?"
Soon be
nine, time to pack the kids off to bed.
dumps paper glasses
and
and silverware
and ketchup supper
plates
in
finally,
leftover
hamburgers
into the sink,
She
clears the table,
into the garbage, puts
and the mayonnaise, mustard,
the refrigerator. Neither child has eaten
mostly potato chips and
ice
cream, but
it's
much really
not her problem. She glances at the books on the refrigerator.
Not
much chance she'll get Maybe she'd feel better
out.
to if
them, she
into the tub, tosses in bubblebath
down
she's
had
her panties, she stares for a
already pretty
a quick bath.
salts,
worn
She runs water
undresses. Before pushing
moment
at the
smooth silken
panel across her tummy, fingers the place where the opening would
THE BABYSITTER
223
be if there were one. Then she steps quickly out of them, somehow ashamed, unhooks her brassiere. She weighs her in the palms of her hands, watching herself
window behind
mirror, where, in the open
breasts
bathroom
the
in
feeling
She
her, she sees a face.
screams.
me
She screams: "Jimmy! Give
that!" "What's the matter?" asks
me my
Jack on the other end. "Jimmy! Give
"Hello? Hey, are you panting.
and
"You caught me
—
!"
"To
protect you,
it
I
away!" "Gee,
mean." "Oh,
"Well, what do you think, can
you?" "Well, not right
this
wish
I
I'd
now!"
in a towel
been there!"
sure," she says, giggling.
come over and watch
I
minute," she says.
very cool. "Jack?" "Yeah?" "Jack,
feels
wrapped
in the tub. I'm just
these silly kids grabbed
"Jack
towel! Right
there?" "I'm sorry, Jack," she says,
still
I
He
...
I
TV
with
laughs lightly.
He
think there's some-
body outside the window!"
She
him, fighting
carries
all
her in the back and kicking her ankles. She can't
and undress him
at the
Jimmy Tucker!"
pummeling hang on to him
the way, to the tub, Bitsy
same time.
"I'll
throw you
in, clothes
and
all,
sits
on
the toilet seat, locks her legs around him, whips his shirt
up over
his
head before he knows what's happening. The pants are
easier.
all little
she gasps.
"You
down
hysterically,
down
when
fists.
cries.
all.
She
He
hangs on
starts to
bawl, and beats
She ducks her head, laughing
oddly entranced by the spectacle of that pale there,
boy's helpless fury
Like
she succeeds in snapping
out of his grip, too, he gives up,
her wildly in the face with his
thing
he
boys his age, he has almost no hips at
desperately to his underpants, but these
better not!"
little
bobbing and bouncing rubberily about with the
and anguish.
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
224
"Aspirin?
Whaddaya want
aspirin here,
if
Harry? I'm sure they got
aspirin for,
— you " "Did
say aspirin?
I
meant, uh,
I
And, you know, I thought, well, I'd sorta check to was okay at home." Why the hell is it his mouth about
six sets of teeth
packed in
liverwurst his host's wife glasses for, I
is
was
I
there,
and
you want
check on the kids,
glasses.
everything
feels like
it's
got
"Whaddaya want your "Aw, well, honey,
don't understand you at all!"
to
my
if
a tongue the size of that
passing around?
feeling kind of dizzy or something,
right. If
the
Harry?
is
see
and
why
I
thought
— " "Dizzy
don't you just call
on
phone?"
They can
tell
she's
bathroom window clearly. "I
naked and about is
frosted glass,
Mark
got an idea,"
to get into the tub, but the
and they
whispers.
can't see anything
"One of us goes and calls when she comes out." do it twice. Or more."
her on the phone, and the other watches
"Okay, but who
Down
calls?"
forbidden
alleys.
world's terrible secrets.
stunning report of a
doorway
us, we'll
Into secret passageways. Unlocking the
Sudden shocks:
rifle shot,
concrete by your ear!
avoiding the
"Both of
Careful!
Then edge forward once more, now a quick dash for an open
inch at a time,
light,
loo\ out! there's a knife! a struggle! no! the long blade
glistens! jerks! thrusts! stabbed!
down,
yes! the spy's
on
top,
No, no,
Fumbling behind
her, she finds
gasps, pulling her
crimson. "I ...
I
thought
it
it,
missed!
it
pinning him, a
the spy rips off the assailant's mask: a
"Oh!" she
a trapdoor! a fall! or the
the whaaii-ii-iing! of the bullet biting
terrific
The
assailant's
thrashing about,
woman!
wraps her hand around
it,
tugs.
hand back quickly, her ears turning was the soap!"
He
squeezes her close
THE BABYSITTER between
down go
tummy between
her
legs. I
hair in the
hurries to answer
it
before
— "I have to
of Jeannie
bathroom when the phone
it
She
rings.
wakes the baby. "Hello, Tuckers."
no answer. "Hello?"
There's
Dream
bathroom!" says someone outside the door.
combing her
She's
back toward him, one hand sliding
his thighs, pulls her
her
to the
225
A
soft
She
Strange.
click.
suddenly alone in the big house, and goes in to watch
TV
feels
with the
children.
"Stop
she screams. "Please, stop!" She's
it!"
on her hands and knees,
trying to get up, but they're too strong for her.
Mark
down. "Now, baby, we're gonna teach you how says coldly, skirt rides
holds her head
to be a nice girl,"
he
and nods at Jack. When she's doubled over like that, her up her thighs to the leg bands of her panties. "C'mon,
man, go! This baby's
cold!
She needs your touch!"
Parks the car a couple blocks away. Slips up to the house, glances in his
window.
shirt
is
Just like he's expected.
unbuttoned.
He
Her
"Some
he walks cheese. there,
party!"
is
off
"You
said it!"
My
When
God,
they're
it
takes
Haw
haw! "What's the
dressed, he sends
more or
little
like
less
him home
He
gazes
says coolly. "Less
let
down on
the
naked, as bleu
naked
little
the kid get
He
bareassed. "Bareassed!"
you and me, we got a
for-
thing you got sticking out
that. "Promises, promises," says his host's wife. "I'll
clothes, son!"
kid's
them
"Hey! What's going on here?" They go white
in.
boy?" "Harry, behave yourself!" No, he doesn't
"Looks
and the
watches, while slowly, clumsily, childishly,
they fumble with each other's clothes. ever.
blouse
drinks to
mail you your
little girl
on
his couch.
secret to keep, honey,"
he
you wanna go home the same way your boyfriend
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
226
He
did!"
chuckles at his easy wit, leans
buckles his in
belt.
"Might
as well
make
it
down
two
right?"
secrets,
God's name are you talking about, Harry?"
there, drink in
over her, and un-
He
"What
staggers out of
hand, and goes to look for his car.
"Hey! What's going on here?" They huddle half-naked under the blanket, caught utterly unawares.
On
television
:
the clickety-click of
frightened running feet on foreign pavements. Jack
is
fumbling for
somehow around his ankles. The blanket is away. "On your feet there!" Mr. Tucker, Mrs. Tucker,
his shorts, tangled
snatched
Mark's
mom
crowding
in.
Everybody
and dad, the
police, the neighbors,
everybody comes
Hopelessly, he has a terrific erection. So hard
stares
Bitsy's sleeping
down at
on the
floor.
more than an hour now,
know how much
it
he's
The
babysitter
is
had
to use the
bathroom.
taking a bath. For
He
doesn't
longer he can wait. Finally, he goes to knock on
the bathroom door. "I have to use the bathroom." "Well,
ahead,
if
you have
hurts.
it.
to."
"Not while you're
in there."
come
She sighs loudly.
"Okay, okay, just a minute," she says, "but you're a real nuisance,
Jimmy!" He's holding on, pinching
He
it
as tight as
holds his breath, squeezing shut his eyes. No.
he can. "Hurry!"
Too
late.
At
last,
she opens the door. "Jimmy!" "I told you to hurry!" he sobs. She
drags
He
him
into the
bathroom and
arrives just in
wrapped
pulls his pants
down.
time to see her emerge from the bathroom,
in a towel, to
answer the phone. His two kids sneak up
behind her and pull the towel away. She's trying
phone and get the towel back
same time.
to
hang onto
the
It's
quite a picture.
She's got a sweet ass. Standing there in the bushes,
pawing himself
at the
THE BABYSITTER
227
with one hand, he ass,
which
his son
shape up, afer
lifts
with the other and
his glass
now
Haw
swats.
toasts
her sweet
haw, maybe that boy's gonna
all.
They're in the bushes, arguing about their next move,
when
she
comes out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. They can hear the baby crying. Then
bathroom
stops.
it
They
like she's scared or
man, whether you're with
me
see her running, naked,
back to the
something. "I'm going in after her, or not!"
Mark
whispers, and he starts
out of the bushes. But just then, a light comes sweeping up through
They hit the dirt, hearts know!" "Do you think they saw us?" "Sshh!" A man comes staggering up the walk from the drive, a drink in his hand, stumbles on in the kitchen door and then straight into the bathroom. "It's Mr. Tucker!" Mark whispers. A scream. "Let's get outa here, man!" the yard, as a car swings in the drive.
pounding.
9:00.
"Is
it
the cops?" "I don't
Having missed most
else to do, the babysitter
kitchen up a
little.
of the spy
show anyway and having
little
has washed the dishes and cleaned the
The books on
the refrigerator remind her of her
better intentions, but she decides that first she'll see what's next
TV.
In the livingroom, she finds
She
lifts
little
it's
nine o'clock, I've
boy." Sullenly, his sleepy eyes glued
room toward
channels.
sound asleep on the
floor.
her gently, carries her into her bed, and tucks her
"Okay, Jimmy, of the
Bitsy
A
the drama.
his
bedroom.
let
still
A
you
stay up,
now
to the set, the
drama comes
on in.
be a good
boy backs out
on. She switches
ballgame and a murder mystery. She switches back to It's
a love story of
some kind.
A man
aging invalid wife, but in love with a younger
room and brush your but as quickly regrets
teeth before
it,
going
for she hears the
girl.
to bed,
baby
stir
married to an
"Use the bath-
Jimmy!" she in
its crib.
calls,
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
228
Two
them
of
Oh
homes.
boy, that's
them
leaves
are talking about mothers they've salted
to use the John, takes
down
her girdle
just wonderful,
awhile, get a few
this is
is
something
one helluva party. She
good deep
breaths.
forward
to look
She has
all
right?" "Yeah,
into
my damn girdle, that's all." "Here, let me help."
She
pulls
them on, over her own, standing
mirror, holding her skirt bundled
twenty
When it.
The
I just can't
get
bedroom About them tight from
in front of the
up around
sizes too big for her, of course.
this
home. In a wheelto, all right.
she pulls her girdle back up, she can't seem to squeeze into host looks in. "Hey, Dolly, are you
in rest
advantage of the retreat to ease
picture of her three kids carting her off to a rest
barrow. That sure
away
She
the waist.
pulls
behind, runs her hand inside the opening in front, pulls out her
thumb. "And what a good boy
must
feel!
her, sullenly watching.
"Those are
how funny
it
"Jimmy! You're supposed
to be in bed!"
sees
him:
my daddy's!" the boy says. "I'm gonna tell!"
into the
are wet!
bathroom and Get them
off!"
pulls his pants
She soaps up a
washcloth she's had with her in the bathtub, scrubs him from
the waist
It's
She giggles:
doorway behind
down. "Even your shoes
out!
I!"
in the
"Jimmy!" She drags him
warm
am
Then, in the mirror, she
down
with
it.
Bitsy stands in the doorway, staring. "Get
Get out!" the boy screams just
at his sister.
"Go back
to bed, Bitsy.
an accident." "Get out!" The baby wakes and
starts to
howl.
The young lieves the
lover feels sorry for her rival, the invalid wife; she be-
man
has a duty toward the poor
willing to wait. But the
man
woman and
insists
she
is
argues that he also has a duty toward
THE BABYSITTER himself: his
life,
229
too,
He
even were she well.
away
twists
short,
is
in anguish.
The door
looking devilish, but pretty told
you not
to
was beginning children just
all
the
They
she
girl feverishly;
stand there grinning,
same time. "Jack!
thought
I
I
she's also glad in a
way: she with the
to see
She should have taken that bath, if
you were being a good at
girl,"
warm
when
around her, she goes
answer: no one there. But
phone
the
awake and bawling. She wonders
if
brother, that's the end.
that's
rings.
Maybe
it is,
tries to
calm the baby with the half-empty
change
it
and they make
it
it's
The
until she's finished her bath.
Wrapping
now
a towel
the baby's all
the
the end anyway. She
bottle,
not wanting to
bathroom's where the
stink to high heaven. "Shush,
shush!" she whispers, rocking the crib.
empty
"We
Jack says and
Jack bothering her
time. If
diapers go dirty,
all.
fragrant suds, ready
for a nice long soaking, to
after
each other nervously.
sunk down into the tubful of
leaving an airy
now
his wife
to feel a little too alone in the big house,
The boys glance
She's just
silly at
opens.
come!" She's angry, but
sleeping.
came by
blushes.
and he could not love
embraces the young
The
towel
slips
away,
up and down her backside. Even before knows
tingle
she stoops for the towel, even before she turns around, she there's
"We
somebody behind
just
grinning
"Lean
came by
down
her.
to see if
you were being a good
at her. She's flushed
over,*" says
Mark
and
them with big
her
Jack says,
mouth
half open.
amiably. "We'll soap your back, as long as
we're here." But she just huddles there, at
silent,
girl,"
down
in the suds, staring
up
eyes.
"Hey! What's going on here?"
It's
Mr. Tucker, stumbling through
the door with a drink in his hand.
She looks up from the TV.
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
230
"What's the matter, Mr. Tucker?" "Oh, uh, I'm no,
I
mean,
had
I
to get
some
aspirin.
caroming
past her into the bathroom,
sorry, I got
Excuse me!"
And
off the livingroom
lost-
he rushes door jamb
on the way. The baby wakes.
"Okay, get
He
doing here?" goes.
Mr. Tucker!" "Jack!" she cries, "what are you stares hard at them a moment: so that's where it
off her,
Then,
Mr. Tucker swings heavily
as
he's got a face full of
out,
Her
if that's
host pushes
on her
— you "
fist.
he leans into the
He's not sure, as the lights go
screaming or the baby
down on
girdle, while she
a rest home!"
.
.
.
her fat fanny and tugs with
bawls on his shoulder:
"Now, now,
take
it
easy, Dolly,
all his
me?" Some
"You're telling
"Whatsamatter? Dolly
a bigger
other guy pokes his head
in?" "No, she
fall
might
wanna go to nobody's gonna make "I don't
"Ouch! Hey, you're hurting!" "You should buy
girdle, Dolly." in.
an old man's
his girlfriend
off,
Next thing he knows, though,
bastard with a hard right to the belly.
fell
out.
Give
me
a
hand."
By
and Mark out of
the time she's chased Jack
of the
program
woman
she's
in the story
complicated
life.
games, so she
been watching on
now
for
some
there, she's lost track
television. There's another
reason.
That guy
lives a
very
Impatiently, she switches channels. She hates ball-
settles for the
time, too: there's a dead
murder mystery. She switches just in sprawled out on the floor of what
man
looks like an office or a study or something.
A
heavyset detective
gazes up from his crouch over the body: "He's been strangled."
Maybe
she'll
take that bath, after
all.
THE BABYSITTER
231
She drags him into the bathroom and soaps
up
a
warm
she reaches between his legs,
hands. "Oh, Jimmy!
him toward rubbery
it
down. She
and aiming
And you
spraying her arms and
starts to spurt,
thought you were done!" she
I
the toilet
it is!
pulls his pants
washcloth she's had in the tub with her, but just as
can turn
it
it
cries,
pulling
How moist and way. How funny it
into the bowl.
every which
must feel!
"Stop
it!"
and Jack
she screams. "Please stop!" She's on her hands and knees is
"Now
holding her head down.
we're gonna teach you
how
to be a nice girl," Mark says and lifts her skirt. "Well, I'll be damned!" "What's the matter?" asks Jack, his heart pounding. "Look at this big pair of men's underpants she's got on!" "Those are
my
them from
daddy's!" says Jimmy, watching
gonna
the doorway. "I'm
tell!"
People are shooting at each other in the murder mystery, but she's so
mixed up, she doesn't know which ones
are the
good guys. She
switches back to the love story. Something seems to have happened,
because
now
the
man
is
kissing his invalid wife tenderly.
The baby wakes, volume on the TV.
she's finally dying.
turns
up the
Leaning down over like he's
known
it
her,
unbuckling
his belt.
would. Beautiful!
pants, poor lad, remain.
"Looks
like
The
It's all
kid
is
Maybe it.
She
happening
just
begins to scream. Let
gone, though his
you and me, we got
a secret to
keep, child!" But he's cramped on the couch and everything slippery
and
small. "Lift your legs up, honey.
back." But instead, she screams.
There they
all
He
rolls
ofif,
come, through the front door.
is
too
Put them around
my
crashing to the
On
television,
floor.
some-
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
232
body
saying:
is
Dolly,
I
"Am
can explain
The game
I
a
.
.
.
burden
of the night
Again. They've got her
whole damn crowd
is
to you, darling?" "Dolly!
Get Dolly Tucker Back
is
down on
God!
Her Girdle
in
her belly in the livingroom and the
working on
her. Several of
ing the girdle, while others try to jam the
made a
My
!"
them
are stretch-
fat inside. "I
we
think
couple inches on this side! Roll her over!" Harry?
She's just stepped into the tub,
baby. She sinks doesn't cry,
it
down
when
the phone rings,
in the suds, trying not to hear.
waking the
But that baby
screams. Angrily, she wraps a towel around herself,
stamps peevishly into the baby's room, just letting the phone jangle.
She
tosses the
baby
down on
gets yellowish baby stool
She turns
him
to find
all
Jimmy
its
back, unpins
over her hands.
its
diapers hastily,
Her towel drops away.
staring at her like a
little idiot.
in the face with her dirty hand, while the
phone
rings,
and
She
slaps
baby screams, the
and nagging voices argue on the TV. There are
better
things she might be doing.
What's happening?
young
after the nels.
same man the
"The
staring
Now
there's a
To
girl or the old invalid?
women
young guy tell
in
it.
the truth,
it
Is
he
are. In disgust, she switches
strangler again," growls the fat detective, hands
down
at the
body of
after the
looks like he's
a half-naked
girl.
on
hand suddenly
clutches her
hips,
She's considering
either switching back to the love story or taking a quick bath,
a
chan-
when
mouth.
"You're both chicken," she says, staring up at them. "But what Mr. Tucker comes home?" Mark asks nervously.
if
THE BABYSITTER
How
233
did he get here? He's standing pissing in his
bathroom, his wife like
of
good
them
is still
back
kids, sitting in there in the livingroom
is
his host's
boy Mark.
"It's
Tucker,"
Mark
said,
ago. "Sit
still!"
he shouted, "I'm just
whump thump
when he came
hanging
panties,
antennae on the
good murder mystery, Mr. them a minute
a
home for a moment!" Then Long hike for a weewee, bothering him. Then it hits him: the broken balloon from the rabbit-ear
like a
TV! He
barges back in there, giving his shoulder a
Maybe
not hanging there any more.
The
are,
One
staggering in on
helluva crack on the livingroom door
Mr. Tucker," Mark
them
watching TV.
into the bathroom.
But something keeps
Mister. girl's
on
own goddamn
at the party, the three of
says flatly.
"Your
jamb on the way he's only
fly's
—but they're
imagined
it.
"Hey,
open."
baby's dirty. Stinks to high heaven. She hurries back to the
livingroom, hearing sirens and gunshots.
The
detective
outside a house, peering in. Already, she's completely
screams
at the top of its lungs.
is
lost.
crouched
The baby
She turns up the volume. But
it's all
confused. She hurries back in there, claps an angry hand to the
down on its back, starts to unpin the diaper, as the baby tunes up again. The phone rings. She answers it, one eye on the TV. "What?" The baby cries so hard it starts to choke. Let it. "I said, hi, this is Jack!" Then
baby's mouth. "Shut up!" she cries. She throws the baby
it
hits her:
"The
oh no! the diaper pin!
aspirin
.
tub. Staring at ripply.
.
."
But
she's already in the tub.
him through
the water.
Way down
Her tummy
He hears sirens, people on the porch.
in the
looks pale and
— PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
234
Jimmy
gets
up
to
go
to the
bathroom and
gets his face slapped
smeared with baby poop. Then she hauls him yanks
off his
him
pajamas, and throws
off to the
and
bathroom,
into the tub. That's okay,
but next she gets naked and acts like she's gonna get in the tub, too.
The
and the phone's ringing
baby's screaming
like crazy
and
in
walks his dad. Saved! he thinks, but, no, his dad grabs him right
back out of the tub and whales the dickens out of him, no questions asked, while she watches, then sends he's lying there,
go
him
whac\l
wet and dirty and naked and
—back to bed. So and he
sore,
still
has to
bathroom, and outside his window he hears two older guys
to the
talking. "Listen,
you know where
to
do
it if
we
get her pinned?"
"No! Don't you?"
"Yo ho heave on
first.
Not
Ugh!" Dolly's on her back and they're working Somebody got the great idea of buttering her down
ho!
the belly side.
to lose the
ground they've gained, they've shot
now suddenly there's this big who want to stuff her in and
with a basting syringe. But
under way between those
want
to let her out.
Something
rips,
but she
it
inside
tug-of-war
those who The odor of
feels better.
hot butter makes her think of movie theaters and popcorn. "Hey, has anybody seen Harry?" she asks. "Where's Harry?"
Somebody's getting chased. She switches back
now
the man's back kissing the
on? She
gives
it
I
and
happen, child," he
one foot out, when Mr. Tucker walks
only wanted some aspirin
towel, but he yanks
it
away. "Now,
scolds. "Please!
her savagely, his calloused old side.
to the love story,
lover again. What's going
up, decides to take a quick bath. She's just stepping
into the tub, one foot in,
"Oh, excuse me!
young
"Mr. Tucker!" she
cries,
that's
.
not
Mr. Tucker
.
how
it's
!" .
.
in.
She grabs for a
."
.
supposed to
He
embraces
hands clutching roughly at her back-
squirming. "Your wife called
—
!"
He's
THE BABYSITTER
235
pushing something between her both
—something cold
slip
legs,
hurting her. She
her skull, she seems to be sinking into a sea
They've got her over the hassock, her a
little
The phone
rings,
.
.
.
up and pants down. "Give lights flicker and
The television when lit. Whack!
waking the baby.
me— I" "No,
Fm
loud?" "Oh,
you
dear, this
I
couldn't
Harry there?
is
"Jack,
that
is
Mrs. Tucker.
hang
on.
Stop
it!
hanging on
phone
when it.
ring.
she
Oh no
"Hello?" towel,
Mr. Tucker
lets .
Stop
it!"
going
to
Her
be
you? Now, you
Isn't the
.
No
TV awfully
To
the phone,
"Honey,
rings.
"No!" she
cries.
woozily away, listening to the
sighs, getting
it isn't
mean. I'm
hand over the baby's mouth. hand is full of baby stool and
The phone
to the baby, leaning
go of the baby,
I
—"
there, dear?"
other
sick.
"Okay, okay," she
stares
screams!
Is
she screams and claps a
it!" it!
she's afraid she's
She's
to
Mrs. Tucker! I've been getting—" "I tried to
sorry,
before, but
listen! Is
"Stop
Bumper
Slap!
sorry, dear." "Just a minute, Mrs. Tucker, the baby's
"Stop
they
He leans into her, feeling her come alive.
bumper!
call
skirt
lesson there, Jack baby!"
flash over her glossy flesh, iooo
listen to
slips,
and hard slams her in the back, cracks
ahold of herself. But
screaming any more. She shakes
.
answer. Strange. She hangs up and, wrapped only in a
out the
window
at
the cold face
staring
in
—she
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
236
She screams, scaring the glances faces ass,
up
at the
down
at
his
who's back
.
.
and crashes
to his stares
is
right
all
.
.
breaking with each
locus of
all
.
.
rings.
"Dolly!
It's
cramped and awkward and
in her,
tiles,
?" .
.
Who's Sorry stares up
Now?
He
at the
woes, and passes out, dreaming of
his
for you!" "Hello?" "Hello, Mrs.
Tucker?" "Yes, speaking." "Mrs. Tucker, ing ..."
it
two
.
The phone
It's
leaps out of the tub,
at just in time to see
him, trembling, a towel over her narrow shoulders. "Mr.
litde tufted
Jeannie
gaping
on the bathroom
slips
Tucker! Mr. Tucker, are you Yessir,
He
out of him.
she's
head on the sink on the way down. She
duck away, then
whacking
hell
window
once anyway.
When
her staring up at them.
this is the police
slippery, but he's pretty sure
he gets the suds out of his
Through
the water. "Hey,
eyes,
call-
he got he sees
Mark! Let her
up!"
Down
in the suds. Feeling sleepy.
Wrapped
The phone
in a towel, she goes to answer.
"No,
rings, startling her. he's
not here, Mrs.
Tucker." Strange. Married people act pretty funny sometimes.
baby
is
awake and screaming.
lot of things she'd rather
house. She decides to
wash
Dirty, a real mess.
Oh
be doing than babysitting in the baby off in her
own
The
boy, there's a this
mad-
bathwater. She
removes her towel, unplugs the tub, lowers the water
level so the
Jimmy "Go back to bed, Jimmy." "I have to go to the bathroom." "Good grief, Jimmy! It looks like you already have!" The phone rings. She doesn't bother with the towel what can baby can
sit.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she
sees
staring at her.
—
THE BABYSITTER
Jimmy and
see
237
—
and goes to answer. "No, Jack, on the TV, as the police move in. But channel with the love story ? Ambulance maybe. Get
he hasn't already seen?
that's final." Sirens,
wasn't that the this over
pajamas
with so she can
at least catch the
Jimmy, and
find clean ones.
off,
I'll
news. "Get those wet
Maybe you better get in wrong with the baby," he says. not swimming or anything."
the tub, too." "I think something's "It's
down in
She's staring
happens.
up
"You
outa here!"
Mark
the water
and
it's
them from the rug. They slap tilted her, man!" Mark says sofdy.
at
just
Two
little
Nothing
her.
"We gotta get
kids are standing wide-eyed in the doorway.
looks hard at Jack. "No, Mark, they're just
little
!"
kids
.
.
.
"We gotta, man, or we're dead."
"Dolly!
My
God! Dolly,
I
can explain!" She glowers
her ripped girdle around her ankles.
doing in the bathtub with
my
"What
down
at
them,
the four of you are
babysitter?" she says sourly. "I can
hardly wait!"
Police sirens wail, lights flash. "I heard the scream!" shouts.
somebody
"There were two boys!" "I saw a man!" "She was running
with the baby!"
"My God!" somebody
Crowds come running. Spodights probe
screams, "they're
all
dead!"
the bushes.
"Harry, where the hell you been?" his wife whines, glaring blearily
up
at
him from
matter,
the carpet. "I can explain," he says. "Hey, whatsa-
Harry?"
goddamn
reason.
his
host asks, smeared
"You look
like
you
with butter for some
just seen a ghost!"
Where did
he leave his drink? Everybody's laughing, everybody except Dolly,
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
238
whose cheeks
them take me
10:00.
The
are streaked with tears. "Hey, Harry, you won't let to a rest
home,
will you,
dishes done, children to bed, her books read, she watches
the news on television. Sleepy.
She dozes
Harry?"
—awakes
with a
The man's
voice
a babysitter?
start:
is
gentle, soothing.
Did
the announcer
say something about a babysitter ?
want
"Just
TV. Most
As
the news. babysitter.
man on
to catch the weather," the host says, switching
it
The
comes on, the announcer host switches channels.
four," he explains.
is
saying something about a
"They got
a better weather-
"Wait!" says Mrs. Tucker. "There was
something about a babysitter tails
on the
of the guests are leaving, but the Tuckers stay to watch
.
.
.
!"
The
host switches back. "De-
have not yet been released by the police," the announcer
"Harry, maybe we'd better go
They
stroll casually
.
.
out of the drugstore, run into a buddy of theirs.
"Hey! Did you hear about the babysitter?" the guy grunts, glances at Jack.
hear the baby screaming!" Mrs. Tucker
I
across the
lawn from the
have dozed
Mark
cries,
running
drive.
startled, to find
Mr. Tucker hovering over
off!" she exclaims.
babysitter?" Mrs.
asks.
"Got a smoke?" he asks the guy.
"I think
She wakes,
says.
."
Tucker
her. "I
must
"Did you hear the news about the
asks. "Part of
it,"
she says, rising.
"Too
THE BABYSITTER
239
bad, wasn't it?" Mr.
Tucker
and golf tournaments. he
says.
"The
"Why, how
"I'll
is
watching the report of the
drive you
nice!" Mrs.
home
ball scores
in just a minute, dear,"
Tucker exclaims from the kitchen.
dishes are all done!"
"What can
I
say,
Dolly?" the host says with a
sigh, twisting the
buttered strands of her ripped girdle between his fingers. "Your children are murdered, your husband gone, a corpse in your bathtub,
the
and your house
TV,
the
know," she
news
is
is
wrecked. I'm sorry. But what can
over,
and
I
say?"
On
they're selling aspirin. "Hell, / don't
says. "Let's see what's
on the
late late
movie."
THE HAT ACT In the middle of the stage: a plain table.
A man enters,
dressed as a magician with black cape and black silk
hat. Doffs hat in
wide sweep
to audience,
bows elegandy.
Applause.
He
displays inside of hat. It
empty. Places hat on
table,
is
empty.
He thumps
it.
brim up. Extends both hands over
tugs back sleeves exposing wrists, snaps fingers. Reaches a rabbit.
Applause.
240
It is clearly
hat,
in, extracts
THE HAT ACT
241
Pitches rabbit into wings. Snaps fingers over hat again, reaches in, extracts a dove.
Applause.
Pitches dove into wings. Snaps fingers over hat, reaches in, extracts
another rabbit.
No
applause. Stuffs rabbit hurriedly back in hat,
snaps fingers, reaches
from which
it
in, extracts
another hat, precisely like the one
came.
Applause.
Places second hat alongside
withdraws a third
first
one. Snaps fingers over
new
hat,
hat, exactly like the first two.
Light applause.
Snaps fingers over third
No
applause.
fifth one.
In
hat,
Does not snap fifth,
withdraws a fourth
he finds a
first hat.
from seventh, ninth from eighth, from other
hats. Rabbits
a
Rabbit appears in third hat.
sixth.
Magician extracts seventh hat from
draws a second rabbit from
hat, again identical.
fingers. Peers into fourth hat, extracts
sixth.
Third hat rabbit with-
Magician withdraws eighth hat as rabbits extract other rabbits
and hats are everywhere. Stage
is
one
mad
turmoil of hats and rabbits.
Laughter and applause.
up
Frantically, magician gathers
and
hats
stuffs
them
other, bowing, smiling at audience, pitching rabbits three at a time into wings, smiling, first, it is difficult
faster spires.
to
bowing.
be sure he
is
It is
and four
a desperate struggle.
stuffing hats
than they are reappearing. Bows,
into each
and pitching
At
rabbits
stuffs, pitches, smiles, per-
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
242
Laughter mounts.
Now there is one
Slowly the confusion diminishes.
and
Now
rabbits.
hats.
there are
no
At
rabbits.
small pile of hats
last there are
only two
Magician, perspiring from overexertion, gasping for breath,
staggers to table with
two
hats.
Light applause, laughter.
Magician, mopping brow with at
two remaining
hats.
handkerchief, stares in perplexity
silk
Pockets handkerchief. Peers into one hat,
then into other. Attempts tentatively to stuff vain.
Attempts
to
fit
second into
Smiles weakly at audience. leaps
on
more
to stuff
it
until crushed. it
No
Wads
into second hat.
first,
first
applause.
Drops
crushed hat in
Still, it
into second, but in
but also without success.
will not
first
hat to
floor,
attempts once
fist,
fit.
Light booing, impatient applause.
Trembling with brim up on
anxiety, magician presses out
table, crushes
desperately to
jam
it
second hat on
into first hat.
No,
floor.
it
first
Wads
will not
hat, places
second hat,
fit.
Turns
it
tries
irritably
to pitch second hat into wings.
Loud
booing.
Freezes. Pales. Returns to table with both hats,
brim up, second head
as
though
still
to
in a
weep
first
in fair condition
crumpled wad. Faces hats in
defeat.
Bows
silendy.
Hissing and booing.
Smile suddenly
lights magician's face.
He
smoothes out second hat
THE HAT ACT and
places
it
243
firmly
on
his head, leaving first hat bottomside-up
table.
Crawls up on table and disappears
on
feet first into hat.
Surprised applause.
Moments legs,
later,
magician's feet poke
then torso. Last part to emerge
lifted
from
table, brings first hat
audience, shows
it
is
is
with
up out of hat on
table,
it.
Magician doffs
first
then
when
magician's head, which,
hat to
empty. Second hat has disappeared. Bows
deeply.
Enthusiastic
and prolonged applause, cheers.
Magician returns hat
removing
to head,
thumps
it,
steps
behind
table.
hat, reaches up, snaps fingers, extracts rabbit
Without
from top of
hat.
Applause. Pitches rabbit into wings. Snaps fingers, withdraws dove
from top
of hat.
Sprinkling of applause. Pitches dove into wings. Snaps fingers, extracts lovely assistant
from
top of hat.
Astonished but enthusiastic applause and whistles.
Lovely assistant wears high feathery green hat, tight green little
halter,
green shorts, black net stockings, high green heels. Smiles coyly
at whistles
and applause, scampers bouncily
offstage.
Whistling and shouting, applause.
Magician attempts
and writhes
to
remove
in struggle
hat,
but
with stuck hat.
it
appears to be stuck. Twists
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
244
Mild laughter. Struggle continues. Contortions. Grimaces.
Laughter.
Finally, magician requests
brawny men enter
stage
two volunteers from audience.
Two
large
from audience, smiling awkwardly.
Light applause and laughter.
One
man
large
cautiously.
The
grasps hat, other clutches magician's legs.
hat does not
stuck.
They tug now with
their
thick
come
off.
They
pull harder.
They
pull
Still, it is
great effort, their heavy faces reddening,
neck muscles taut and throbbing. Magician's neck
stretches, snaps in
two:
POP! Large men tumble
apart, rolling to
opposite sides of stage, one with body, other with hat containing
magician's severed head.
Screams of
terror.
Two large men stand, stare aghast at handiwork, clutch mouths. Shrieks and screams.
Decapitated body stands.
Shrieks and screams.
Zipper in front of decapitated body opens, magician emerges. as before,
wearing same black cape and same black
deflated decapitated
wings.
Two
large
body
men
into wings. Pitches hat
sigh with
immense
relief,
He
is
silk hat. Pitches
and head into shake heads as
THE HAT ACT
245
though completely
baffled, smile faintly, return to audience.
Magi-
cian doffs hat and bows.
Wild applause, shouts, cheers. Lovely
green costume, enters, carrying glass of
assistant, still in
water.
Applause and whistling. Lovely assistant acknowledges whistling with coy smile, water on
orders her by gesture to eat
sets glass
of
Magician hands her his hat,
table, stands dutifully by. it.
Whistling continues.
Lovely assistant smiles,
bites into hat,
chews slowly.
Laughter and much whistling.
She washes down each brought
band
left
in.
on
Hat
bite of hat
at last is entirely
with water from glass she has
consumed, except for narrow
table. Sighs, pats slender
silk
exposed tummy.
Laughter and applause, excited whistling. Magician
invites
young country boy
in audience to
Young country boy steps forward shyly, stumbling own big feet. Appears confused and utterly abashed. Loud laughter and
come
to stage.
clumsily over
catcalls.
Young country boy down redfaced at his
stands with one foot
on top of
other, staring
hands, twisting nervously in front of him.
.
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
246
Laughter and catcalls increase. Lovely assistant
sidles
Boy ducks head away,
up
to boy,
steps first
embraces him in motherly fashion.
on one
foot,
then on other, wrings
hands.
More laughter and catcalls, whistles. Lovely
assistant
winks broadly
boy on cheek. Boy jumps
as
at audience, kisses
though scalded,
trips
young country own feet, and
over
falls to floor.
Thundering laughter. Lovely assistant helps boy to his
feet, lifting
him under
armpits.
Boy, ticklish, struggles and giggles helplessly.
Laughter {as before) Magician raps cal
table
with knuckles. Lovely
assistant releases hysteri-
country boy, returns smiling to table. Boy resumes
stance,
wipes his runny nose with back
of his
hand,
awkward
sniffles.
Mild laughter and applause. Magician hands lovely eaten.
She
with some
stuffs
band
difficulty,
assistant
into her
narrow
silk
band
of hat she has
mouth, chews thoughtfully, swallows
shudders. She drinks from glass. Laughter and
shouting have fallen away to expectant hush. Magician grasps nape of lovely assistant's neck, forces her head with
down between
her stockinged knees.
He
its
releases grip
feathered hat
and her head
springs back to upright position. Magician repeats action slowly.
Then
repeats action rapidly four or five times.
Looks inquiringly
at
THE HAT ACT
247
Her
lovely assistant.
face
is
from
flushed
exertion.
She meditates,
then shakes head: no. Magician again forces her head to her knees, releases grip,
peats this
allowing head to snap back to upright position. Re-
two or three
times.
Looks inquiringly
at lovely assistant.
She smiles and nods. Magician drags abashed young country boy over behind lovely assistant and invites assistant's tight
green shorts.
Young
him
to reach into lovely
country boy
is
flustered
beyond
belief.
Loud laughter and whistling resumes.
Young country boy, in desperation, tries tures him and drags him once more behind
to escape.
Magician cap-
lovely assistant.
Laughter etc. (as before).
Magician grasps country boy's arm and thrusts assistant's shorts.
Young country boy
Hysterical laughter
it
forcibly into lovely
wets pants.
and catcalls.
Lovely assistant grimaces once. Magician, smiling, releases grip on agonizingly embarrassed country boy. Boy withdraws hand. In finds he
narrow
is
holding magician's original black
silk
band and
silk hat, entirely
Magician winks broadly
cian
head. Water
country boy.
cheers.
at audience, silencing
young country boy
insists.
he
all.
Wild applause and footstamping, laughter and
invites
it,
whole,
to
don
hat.
them momentarily,
Boy ducks head
Timidly, grinning foolishly, country boy spills out,
runs
down
shyly.
Magi-
lifts
hat to
over his head, and soaks young
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
248
Laughter, applause, wild
Young
catcalls.
country boy, utterly humiliated, drops hat and turns to run
offstage, but lovely assistant
is
standing on his foot.
He
trips
and
falls to his face.
Laughter
etc. (as
before).
Country boy crawls abjectly offstage on
his
stomach. Magician,
laughing heartily with audience, pitches lovely assistant into wings, picks
up hat from
three times, returns
floor. it
Brushes hat on sleeve, thumps
with elegant flourish to
it
two or
his head.
Appreciative applause.
Magician table.
steps
behind
Blows away
brushes off one space on
table. Carefully
dust. Reaches for hat.
But again,
it
seems to be
stuck. Struggles feverishly with hat.
Mild laughter. Requests volunteers.
Same two
large
men
as before
quickly grasps hat, other grasps magician's legs.
enter.
They tug
One
furiously,
but in vain.
Laughter and applause.
First large
man
to be protesting.
grabs magician's head under jaw. Magician appears
Second large
waist.
Both pull apart with
veins
in
hands
flutter hopelessly.
their
man wraps
magician's legs around his
terrific strain, their faces
reddening, the
temples throbbing. Magician's tongue protrudes,
THE HAT ACT
249
Laughter and applause. Magician's neck stretches. But long.
it
does not snap.
It is
now
several feet
Two large men strain mightily.
Laughter and applause.
Magician's eyes pop like bubbles from their sockets.
Laughter and applause.
Neck tive
hush
snaps at
last.
Large
men
tumble head over heels with respec-
bloody burdens to opposite sides of stage. Expectant amused over audience. First large
falls
pitches head
and hat
man
scrambles to his
into wings, rushes to assist second large
Together they unzip decapitated body. Lovely
feet,
man.
assistant emerges.
Surprised laughter and enthusiastic applause, whistling.
Lovely assistant pitches deflated decapitated body into wings. Large
men ogle her and make mildly obscene gestures for audience. Mounting laughter and friendly
catcalls.
Lovely assistant invites one of two large
men
to reach inside her
tight green shorts.
Wild whistling. Both large tumbling audience.
men jump
to floor in
forward eagerly, tripping over each other and
angry heap. Lovely assistant winks broadly at
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
250
Derisive catcalls.
Both
men
stand, face each other, furious. First large
second. Second pushes floor.
Second leaps
first.
to feet,
blood from nose, drives
fist
man
spits at
First returns push, toppling second to
smashes
first
into second's
in nose. First reels, wipes
abdomen.
Loud cheers. Second weaves confusedly, crumples miserably
abdomen.
to floor clutching
First kicks second brutally in face.
Cheers and mild laughter.
Second staggers blindly
to feet, face a mutilated mess. First
second back against wall, knees
him
in groin.
smashes
Second doubles over,
blinded with pain. First clips second with heel of hand behind ear.
Second crumples
to floor, dead.
Prolonged cheering and applause.
First large
man
acknowledges applause with self-conscious bow.
Flexes knuckles. Lovely assistant approaches braces
him
first
large
man, em-
in motherly fashion, winks broadly at audience.
Prolonged applause and whistling.
Large
man
ion, as she
grins
makes
and embraces lovely faces of
assistant in
mock astonishment
unmotherly fash-
for audience.
Shouting and laughter, wild whistling.
Lovely assistant to
frees self
from
large
man, turns plump hindquarters
him, and bends over, her hands on her knees, her shapely
legs
.
THE HAT ACT straight.
251
Large
man
grins at audience, pats lovely assistant's green-
clad rear.
Wild shouting etc. Large
man
his eyes,
reaches inside lovely assistant's tight green shorts, rolls
and grins obscenely. She grimaces and wiggles
Wild shouting Large
(as before).
etc. (as
before)
man withdraws hand from
extracting magician in black cape
Thunder
rear briefly.
inside lovely assistant's shorts,
and black
silk hat.
of astonished applause.
Magician bows deeply, doffing hat
to audience.
Prolonged enthusiastic applause, cheering.
Magician pitches lovely
assistant
and
first
man
large
into wings.
Inspects second large man, lying dead on stage. Unzips him and young country boy emerges, flushed and embarrassed. Young country
boy creeps abjectly offstage on stomach.
Laughter and
catcalls,
more applause.
Magician pitches deflated corpse of second large
man
into wings.
Lovely assistant reenters, smiling, dressed as before in high feathery hat, tight
green halter, green shorts, net stockings, high heels.
Applause and whistling. Magician displays inside of hat to magician.
He thumps
to audience as lovely assistant points
hat two or three times.
hat on table, and invites lovely assistant to enter
it.
It is
empty. Places
She does
so.
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
252
Vigorous applause.
Once she has
entirely disappeared,
magician extends both hands
over hat, tugs back sleeves exposing wrists, snaps fingers. Reaches extracts
in,
one green high-heeled shoe.
Applause.
Pitches shoe into wings. Snaps fingers over hat again. Reaches in,
withdraws a second shoe.
Applause.
Pitches shoe into wings. Snaps finger over hat. Reaches in, with-
draws one long net stocking. Applause and scattered whistling. Pitches stocking into wings. Snaps fingers over hat. Reaches in, extracts a second black net stocking.
Applause and scattered whistling. Pitches stocking into wings. Snaps fingers over hat. Reaches in, pulls
out high feathery hat.
Increased applause and whistling, rhythmic stamping of
feet.
Pitches hat into wings. Snaps fingers over hat. Reaches in, fumbles briefly.
Light laughter.
Withdraws green
halter, displays
it
with grand
flourish.
THE HAT ACT
253
Enthusiastic applause, shouting, whistling, stamping of feet.
Pitches halter into
wings. Snaps fingers over hat. Reaches in,
fumbles. Distant absorbed gaze.
Burst of laughter.
Withdraws green
Tremendous
shorts, displays
crash of applause
them with elegant
and cheering,
flourish.
whistling.
Pitches green shorts into wings. Snaps fingers over hat. Reaches in.
Prolonged fumbling. Sound of a
slap.
Withdraws hand
hastily,
a
look of astonished pain on his face. Peers inside.
Laughter.
Head of lovely assistant pops out of hat, pouting indignantly. Laughter and applause.
With
difficulty,
Pressing hands
she extracts one
down
arm from
hat, then other
against hat brim, she wriggles
one naked breast pops out of
and
arm.
twists until
hat.
Applause and wild whistling.
The other breast: POP! More applause and She wriggles
whistling.
free to the waist.
She grunts and
struggles, but
is
unable to free her hips. She looks pathetically, but uncertainly at magician.
He tugs and pulls but she seems firmly stuck.
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
254
Laughter.
He
grasps lovely assistant under armpits
and plants
feet against hat
brim. Strains. In vain.
Laughter.
Thrusts lovely assistant forcibly back into hat. Fumbles again.
Loud
slap.
Laughter
increases.
Magician returns slap soundly.
Laughter ceases abruptly, some scattered booing. Magician reaches into
hat,
withdraws one unstockinged
reaches in again, pulls out one arm. all his effort
some
is
on arm and
leg.
leg,
He
but for
whistling.
Magician glances uneasily
He
tugs
cannot extract the remainder.
Scattered booing,
hat.
He
perspiring.
at audience, stuffs
Fumbles
inside hat.
arm and
leg back into
Withdraws nude hind-
quarters of lovely assistant.
Burst of cheers and wild whistling.
Smiles uncomfortably at audience.
Tugs
desperately
on plump
hindquarters, but rest will not follow.
Whistling diminishes, increased booing.
Jams hindquarters back into
hat,
mops brow with
silk
handkerchief.
THE HAT ACT
Loud unfriendly
255
booing.
Pockets handkerchief.
thumps
it
Is
becoming rather
vigorously, shakes
it.
Places
frantic.
Grasps hat and
once more on
it
table,
brim
up. Closes eyes as though in incantations, hands extended over hat.
Snaps fingers several times, reaches in tenuously. Fumbles. Loud
Withdraws hand
slap.
hastily in
angry astonishment. Grasps hat.
Gritting teeth, enfuriated, hurls hat to feet.
floor, leaps
Something crunches. Hideous piercing
on
it
with both
shriek.
Screams and shouts. Magician, aghast, picks up hat, stares into
it.
Pales.
Violent screaming and shouting.
Magician gingerly
sets
hat on
grief-stricken, in front of
it.
floor,
Weeps
and
kneels, utterly appalled
and
silently.
Weeping, moaning, shouting. Magician huddles miserably over crushed First large
wings.
They
man and young
They
start
are pale
hat,
weeping convulsively.
country boy enter timidly, soberly, from
and frightened. They peer uneasily
back in horror. They clutch
their
into hat.
mouths, turn away, and
vomit*
Weeping, shouting, vomiting, accusations of murder. Large
man and country boy tie up magician, drag him away.
Weeping, retching.
Large
man and
country boy return,
trembling uncontrollably, carry
it
lift
crushed hat gingerly, and
at arm's length into wings.
PRICKSONGS
256
Momentary increase of weeping, away of sound to silence. Country boy creeps onto
abjectly
up placard against
away.
CONCLUDED THE MANAGEMENT REGRETS THERE WILL BE NO REFUND THIS ACT
IS
DESCANTS
retching, moaning, then dying
stage, alone, sets
and facing audience, then creeps
8c
table
FICTION • Z6031
•
$795
i
CANADA* $10.95
ONCE, SOME TIME AGO AND IN A DISTANT LAND, MET A YOUNG MAIDEN, KNOWN TO HER TRIBE AS THE VIRGIN OF THE POST, AND SHE GAVE TO ME, AMID PRURIENT AND MYSTERIOUS CEREMONIES, I
A GOLDEN Exemplifying the best brilliant
collection
good
in
narrative art, Robert
Coover s
PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS tells
stories and tells
them
These
well.
fictions
challenge the assumptions of our age; they use
the fabulous to probe beyond randomly perceived events, beyond
mere
history.
They are
weapons that counterpoint our consciousness, that show us the need for new modes of perception.
4
The
fictions in
Robert Coover s remarkable
volume are solitaires— sparkling, many-faceted, sharply drawn and brightly painted!' —William Gass, The New York Times Book Review
"PRICKSONGS & DESCANTS
is
richly stimulating:'
—Library Journal
26031
i
RING.
51857"00795
'
7
ISBN D-M52-2bD31-D