Infinite Jest

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Infinite Jest Page 21

by David Foster Wallace


  And so offwego and everything like that with 400 $ on the Orangeline, and thru a fucked up circumstances yrstruly and C almost end up raping a older type nurse in a white nurses’ uniform and coat on the train but we dont’ and but Poor Tony seems white and detracted on the train playng with his feather snake and says he says he seems in his mind maybe to recall an involvment in some type deal where Dr. Wo might of got slightly got over on and burnt and that maybe down in Chinatown we could air on the side of low profiles and try to cop some where else except from the Wos’. Except Dr. Wo is who we know. C is Wos’ former aquaintance from crewing with slopes on the North shore for Whity Sorkin in the days of his youth. C is not 2Bdenied. And so at the Orangeline Tstop we grab a fat cab to about two blocks from Hung Toys and screw out of the cab at a light and the thing with fat cabbies is they cant’ run after you and Poor Tony is pisser to watch tearassing it down the street in hiheels with a feather stoal. Poor Tony runs right by the front of Hung Toys, this is by pryor agreement to wait for us low profile down the street and yrstruly and C go in Hung Toys where they dont’ open till 2300 and sell tea unquot like 100 Proof tea till all hours and everything like that and never get Inspected because Dr. Wo has arrangements with Chinatowns’ Finest. XMas is noncelebrated in Chinatown. Dr. Wo a good thing about Wo is hes’ always there in Hung Toys at known times. Here theres’ all old slope racial type ladies sitting in booths eating noddles and drinking quot tea out of white cups the size of a shotglass and everything like that. With small slope kids tearassing it all over and older men in like jew caps and skinny beerds out of just the middle of there chin but Dr. Wo is only middle aged and wears iron glasses and a tie and looks more like a banker for a slope but he is 100 % business and icecold all the way down for slope type comerce plus hes’ connected bigtime and not to be fucked or got over on if some body has a head left and yrstruly I cant’ believe Poor Tony would ever take part of tryng to crew on Wo who he knows thru C in even the smallest comerce and if he did C says he sure never heard about it nor saw any of the skeet or anything like that, and why. Cs’ the one that knows Wo. We arranged Poor Tony to wait for us out side and try to be low profile. Its’ sub 0 snow and hes’ in a leather spring coat and stoal and brown wig thats’ not as good as a hat and hell’ freeze his low profile balls off and C was tryng to smile and he told Dr. Wo we needed three bundles and Dr. Wo was smiling in his slope manner said the boosting life must surely be exellent and C laughed and said most exellent Cs’ tight with slopes he does the talking and everything like that, and he says were’ going to lay up low profile for the XMas vacation and not crew because I had a rape type situation from an older nurse last nite on the T and almost got pinched by the Ts’ Finest and Dr. Wo nods in a special subservant manner he uses for non slopes who hes’ realy polite with but hes’ a dictater to his slopes when we see him with his subservant slopes but with us were’ allike most polite and everything like conversession and its’ nice but expensive but it feels nice at the time but Wo finishes his so called tea and Wo goes back behind the curtains in the back of Hung Toys thats’ a giant brightred curtain with purple mountains or hills and clouds that are flyng snakes with leather wings that is one curtain yrstruly would want to boost for personnel hanging use that no body that isnt’ a slope and isnt’ in with Wo cant’ never go behind it but you can see when he opens it and goes behind the curtain it looks like merly more old slope ladies sitting on packing cases with slope writing eating more noddles in bowls they hold about like a millmeter from their yellow maps and everything like that. Slopes rarly stop shovling in the old noddles. Stokely Darkstar calls them maggoteaters and subservant slopes keep going in and out of the curtain while Wos’ back there a longer than avrege time and Cs’ got the Shivers and starting to jones and dope-fiends are full of super station and he says to yrstruly he says the fuck he says maybe what if Poor Tony realy did take part with burning Wo and what if a slope sees Poor Tony out side and is one of these slopes going in and out of the curtain maybe telling Wo, like ratting out Poor Tony as our aquaintance, and my mucis is starting and were’ jonesing super statiously over PT and wheres’ Wo behind the curtain and everything like that, tryng to smile and conversession ultralow, drinking quot tea thats’ like schnapps only wurse and green. And we jones and Dr. Wo comes back finally at last out smiling subservantly with all the wonderful skeet three bundles in a newspaper who could fucking read it but the pictures are of slope VIPs’ in suits and Wo sits down, and Wo never sits down at the booth with the skeet it isnt’ done in his comerce, and Wos’ hands are folded over our skeet in the thing and Wo smiling says he asks C if weve’ seen goodold Poor Tony or Susan T. Cheese around we crew with Poor Tony in boosting life did we not he said. C he says PT is a fucking dicksucking fag queer and a proven cheeseater and wed’ fucked up his map and Cheese and Lolasisters’ map in a beef and didnt’ crew with fags since aprox the autum period. C is pouring mucis and tryng to smile cusually, Dr. Wo laughed in a harty fashion and said exellent and Wo leaned over our skeet sayng if we should happenbychance to see Poor Tony or them to please give Poor Tony his quite best regards and wish him prosparity and a thousand blisses. And everything like that. And we promote the newspaper of skeet and Wo promotes our $ and very politely outwego and I admit it yrstruly wanted we should burn Poor Tony and rickytick the fuck out of Chinatown but we go over down more by the China Pearl Place and Poor Tony is sortof hunched behind a lightpoal with his gray teeth chatting in his dress and thin coat tryng to be low profile in his red coat and heels around a million+ slopes that all are subservants of Wo. And later after screwing out we didnt’ tell him of what Wo said about sitting down and asking about him and Cheeses’ blisses and we screw to the Orangeline to our hot air blowergrate we use at nite at the library behind the Copley Squar and we get our personnel works out from behind the brickworks behind the bush by the hot blowergrate where we stash our works and were’ eggerly into the first bundle and were’ cooking up and notice Poor Tony doesnt’ the least bitch when yrstruly and C tie off first in line seeing as were’ the ones that copped it and Poor Tonys’ gotto wait as usal, except I notice he doesnt’ bitch even a little, normally Poor Tony keeps up this usal wine yrstruly learned how to not notice, but when he doesnt’ wine now that were’ jonesing and the skeets’ right there I notice hes’ cusually looking like every place but at the skeet which is unusal and C jonesing and with the Shivers cooking up tryng to keep his lighter lit in the hot airs’ wind and snow of nite, and I admit it yrstruly I get a wicked cold inside feeling even with all this hot air from the blowergrate blowing up from under us and making our hair blow around and Tonys’ feather snake pernt upword I yrstruly get a cold feeling of super station once more, you get wicked super stations in this fucked up kindof shit life because its’ a never ending chase and you get too tired to go by much more than never ending habit and super station and everything like that so but I dont’ say any thing but yrstruly I have a cold super station about Poor Tony not wining while he makes like he has to cusually piss and takes a piss and the piss steams up around the lower ares of the bush with his back turned away and isnt’ looking around with interst or anything like that you never turn your back on the skeet when its’ partly your skeet which is wicked unusal which C is so eggerly dopesick he doesnt’ notice any thing past keeping the lighter lit. And so I admit it I yrstruly did yrstruly purplously let C tie off and boot up first while I still cooked up, I did cook up unusally slow, fucking with the getting the snowmelt hot in the spoon and everything like that yrstruly I let the lighter go out and took more time with the cotton and C had the Shivers wurst of us and cooks up the fastest and would of got it anyway. Later with Cs’ map elemonaded Poor Tony later conceited admitting Susan T. Cheese helped a Worcester fag get over on Wo for a fronted bundle in autum is why. And all three bundles Wo give us in slope news was Hotshots. Laced. It started the instantly C undid the belt and booted up we knew allready, yrstruly I and PT thearized it was Drano with the blue like glittershit and
everything like that taken out by subservant slopes it had that Drano like effect on C and everything like that it was laced what ever it was C started with the screaming in a loud hipitch fashion instantly after he unties and boots and downhegoes flopping with his heels pouning on the metal of the blower-grate and hes’ at his throat with his hands tearing at him self in the most fucked up fashions and Poor Tony is hiheeling rickytick over over C zipping up sayng he screams sweety C but and stuffing the feather snake from his necks’ head in Cs’ mouth to shut him up from hipitch screaming in case Bostons’ Finest can hear involvment and blood and bloody materil is coming out Cs’ mouth and Cs’ nose and its’ allover the feathers its’ a sure sign of Drano, blood is and Cs’ eyes get beesly and bulge and hes’ cryng blood into the feathers in his mouth and tryng to hold onto my glove but Cs’ arms are going allover and one eye it like allofa sudden pops outof his map, like with a Pop you make with fingers in your mouth with all this blood and materil and a blue string at the back of the eye and the eye falls over the side of Cs’ map and hangs there looking at the fag Poor Tony. And C turned lightblue and bit thru the snakes’ head and died for keeps and shit his pants instanly with shit so bad the hot air blowergrate is blowing small bits of fart and blood and missty shit up into our maps and Poor Tony backs offof over C and puts his hands over his madeup map and looks at C thru his fingers. And yrstruly I take the belt off it goes without saying, and dont’ even rethink or dream about tryng maybe a diffrent bag out of a diffrent bundle from C for how could Wo know what bundle wed’ cook up outof first so all three bundles must be Hot so I dont’ even dream even tho yrstrulys’ Shiverng and mucis sick allready and now in payback Wo has our only $ to get straight with for XMas. It might sound fucking low but the reason we had to leave the decesed body C in one of the librarys’ dumsters is the reason is because the Copley Squars’ Finest know it is our personnel hot air blowergrate and if we leave C there its’ a sure pinch for us as known aquaintance and a period of Kicking The Bird in holding in a cell but the dumster was empty of materil and Cs’ head made a fucked up sound when it hit the empty bottom and Poor Tony cried and wined and said he said he had no inkling that beast Wo was that vindicative and poorold decesed C and how this was it hes’ going to get clean from heronout and get a straightjob dancing in a Patty type Club in the Fenway and everything like that on and on piss and wine. I didnt’ say any thing. I had to rethink on the T to the Squar if yrstruly I should elemonade Poor Tonys’ map for keeps for payback on how he purplously lets C shoot up first and wouldof’ let yrstruly shoot first even knowing, or make that cheese move and go back down the Orangeline to Wo and try and get enough bags to get true straight eating cheese to Wo about the wherehouse that Poor Tony and Susan T. Cheese and Lolasister with Eckwus crashed at now. Or like what. Yrstruly I almost was cryng. It was when Poor Tony took off his hiheels and wanted yrstruly I should boost him like over the edge of Cs’ bodies’ dumster to get back what was left of his feather stoal out of Cs’ mouth that yrstruly I thought I decided what to do. But the connected slope Wo wasnt’ even there in front of the Hung Toys curtain in the early XMas AM, and then Poor Tony departed for green pastures and ate cheese, and it took yrstruly two days of Kicking The Bird in the hall out side my Mumsters’ apartment that for payback she locked the door before I yrstruly can get in a Detox to atleast cop some methedoan and get three squars to stay down in yrstruly to start to thearize on what to try and do after I could standup straight and walk upright again once more.

  3 NOVEMBER Y.D.A.U.

  Hal could hear the phone console ringing as he dropped his gear bag and took the room key from around his neck. The phone itself had been Orin’s and its plastic case was transparent and you could see the phone’s guts.

  ‘Mmyellow.’

  ‘Why do I always get the feeling I’m interrupting you in the middle of some like vigorous self-abuse session?’ It was Orin’s voice. ‘It’s always multiple rings. Then you’re always a little breathless when you do.’

  ‘Do what.’ ‘A certain sweaty urgency to your voice. Are you one of the 99% of adolescent males, Hallie?’

  Hal never liked talking on the phone after he’d gotten high in secret down in the Pump Room. Even if there was water or liquid handy to keep the cotton at bay. He didn’t know why this was so. It just made him uneasy.

  ‘You’re sounding hale and fit, O.’

  ‘You can tell me, you know. No shame in it. Let me tell you, boy, I did myself raw for years on end on that hill.’

  Hal estimated over 60% of what he told Orin on the phone since Orin had abruptly started calling again this spring was a lie. He had no idea why he liked lying to Orin on the phone so much. He looked at the clock. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Home. Snug and toasty. It’s 90+ out.’

  ‘That would be Fahrenheit I’m assuming.’

  ‘This city is made of all glass and light. The windows are like high-beams coming at you. The air has that spilled-fuel shimmer to it.’

  ‘So to what do we owe.’

  ‘Sometimes I wear sunglasses even in the house. Sometimes at the stadium I hold my hand up and look at it and I swear I can see right through it. Like that thing with the flashlight and your hand.’

  ‘Hands seem to be sort of a theme to this call, thus far.’

  ‘On the way in from the lot off the street here I saw a pedestrian in a pith helmet stagger and like claw at the air and pitch forward onto his face. Another Phoenician felled by the heat I think to myself.’

  It occurred to Hal that although he lied about meaningless details to Orin on the phone it had never occurred to him to consider whether Orin was ever doing the same thing. This induced a spell of involuted marijuana-type thinking that led quickly, again, to Hal’s questioning whether or not he was really all that intelligent. ‘SATs are six weeks away and Pemulis is less and less helpful on the math, if you want to know what I’m doing all day.’

  ‘The man’s face made a sizzling noise when it hit the pavement. Like bacon-caliber sizzling. He’s still lying there, I see out the window. He’s not moving anymore. Everyone’s avoiding him, going around him. He looks too hot to touch. A little Hispanic kid made off with his hat. Have y’all had snow yet? Describe snow for me again, Hallie, I’m begging you.’

  ‘So you go around with this image of me sitting around during the day masturbating, is what you’re saying.’

  ‘I’ve actually been thinking of maneuvering for the whole Kleenex concession at E.T.A., as a venture.’

  ‘That of course would mean actually contacting C.T. and the Moms.’ ‘Me and this forward-looking reserve QB have been making inquiries. Putting out feelers. Volume discounts, preferred-vendor status. Maybe a sideline in unscented lubricants. Any thoughts?’

  ‘O.?’

  ‘I’m sitting here actually missing New Orleans, kid. It’d be just coming up on Advent I think. The Quarter always gets really quaint and demure during Advent. It almost never rains down there during Advent for some reason. People remark on it, the phenomena.’

  ‘You sound somehow a little off to me, O.’

  ‘I’m heat-crazed. I might be dehydrated. What’s that word? Everything’s looked all beige and powdery all day. Trash bags have been swelling up and spontaneously combusting out in the dumpsters. These sudden rains of coffee grounds and orange peels. The Displacement guys in the barges have to wear asbestos gloves. Also I met somebody. Hallie, a possibly very special somebody.’

  ‘Uh oh. Dinnertime. Triangle’s a-clangin’ over in West.’

  ‘Hey Hallie though? Hang on. Kidding aside for a second. What all do you know about Separatism?’

  Hal stopped for a moment. ‘You mean in Canada?’

  ‘Is there any other kind?’

  Ennet House Drug and Alcohol Recovery House 49 was founded in the Year of the Whopper by a nail-tough old chronic drug addict and alcoholic who had spent the bulk of his adult life under the supervision of the Massachusetts Department of Corrections before disco
vering the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous at M.D.C.-Walpole and undergoing a sudden experience of total self-surrender and spiritual awakening in the shower during his fourth month of continuous AA sobriety. This recovered addict/ alcoholic — who in his new humility so valued AA’s tradition of anonymity that he refused even to use his first name, and was known in Boston AA simply as the Guy Who Didn’t Even Use His First Name — opened Ennet House within a year of his parole, determined to pass on to other chronic drug addicts and alcoholics what had been so freely given to him in the E-Tier shower.

  Ennet House leases a former physicians’ dormitory in the Enfield Marine Public Health Hospital Complex, managed by the United States Veterans Administration. Ennet House is equipped to provide 22 male and female clients a nine-month period of closely supervised residency and treatment.

  Ennet House was not only founded but originally renovated, furnished, and decorated by the nameless local AA ex-con, who — since sobriety doesn’t exactly mean instant sainthood — used to lead select teams of early-recovery dope fiends on after-hours boosting expeditions at area furniture and housewares establishments.

 

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