Unfortunately, all of them seem to have other plans, an are sittin with each other, an not with us. After a while, Elaine comes over an sets down, I guess so we do not feel too lonely.
“I guess it’s a light night for bachelors,” she says.
“Yup,” I says. “But even if we can’t talk to them, maybe you could tell us what they is talkin about with each other—just to give little Forrest an idea of what famous people talk about.”
“Talk about?” says Elaine. “Well, the movie stars, they are talkin about themselves, I imagine.”
“What about the writers?” I ast.
“Writers?” she says. “Huh. They are talkin about what they always talk about—baseball, money, and pieces of ass.”
About this time the door open an a feller come in, an Elaine motions him over to the table to sit down.
“Mr. Gump, I want you to meet Tom Hanks,” she says.
“Pleased to meet you,” I say, an introduce him to little Forrest.
“I’ve seen you,” little Forrest says, “on television.”
“You an actor?” I ast.
“Sure am,” Tom Hanks says. “What about you?”
So I tole him a little bit about my checkered career, an after he listened for a while, Tom Hanks says, “Well, Mr. Gump, you are sure a curious feller. Sounds like somebody ought to make a movie of your life’s story.”
“Nah,” I says, “ain’t nobody be interested in somethin stupid like that.”
“You never know,” says Tom Hanks. “ ‘Life is like a box of chocolates.’ By the way, I just happen to have a box of chocolates right here—You wanna buy some?”
“Nah, I don’t think so, I ain’t big on chocolates—but thanks, anyhow.”
Tom Hanks looks at me kinda funny. “Well, ‘stupid is as stupid looks,’ I always say.” An at that, he gets up an goes to another table.
Next mornin, there is a serious disturbance at Ivan Bozosky’s offices.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” shouts Miss Hudgins. “They have arrested Mr. Bozosky!”
“Who have?” I ast.
“The police,” she hollered. “Who else arrests people! They have taken him to jail!”
“What’d he do?”
“Insider trading!” she yelled. “They have accused him of insider trading!”
“But I am the president of the insider trading division,” I says. “How come they didn’t arrest me?”
“It ain’t too late for that, bigshot.” The voice belonged to a big ole ugly-lookin detective who was standin in the doorway. Behind him was two cops in uniforms.
“You just come along peaceful, now, an there won’t be any trouble.”
I done what he tole me, but his last line was pure bullshit.
So I am thowed in jail again. I might of known all this couldn’t last forever, but I didn’t expect there would be such a big deal about it all. Not only have they arrested Ivan Bozosky, but they have thowed Mike Mulligan in jail, too, an various other folks in the bidness. Miss Hudgins is also locked up as a “material witness.” They give me one phone call to make, so I phoned little Forrest at the Helmsley an tole him I would not be home for supper. I just could not bring mysef to say his daddy was in the jug again.
Anyhow, Ivan, he is in the ajoinin cell to mine, an to my surprise, he is lookin rather chipper.
“Well, Gump, I believe the time has come for you to do your trained bear act,” he says.
“Yeah, what is that?”
“Just what you did for Colonel North—lie, cover up, take the blame.”
“For who?”
“For me, you stupo! Why in hell do you think I made you president of my insider trading division? Because of your brains and good looks? To take the heat, in case of something like this, is why I hired you.”
“Oh,” I says. I might of knowed there was a catch.
Over the next few days, I am interrogated by about a hundrit cops an lawyers an investigators for all sorts of financial agencies. But I don’t tell em nothin. I just kep my big mouth shut, which pissed em off royally, but ain’t nothin they can do. They is so many of them, I can’t tell which is representin me an Mr. Bozosky an Mike Mulligan, an who is against us. Don’t matter. I am quiet as a clam.
One day the jail guard come by, say I got a visitor. When I gone into the visitors room, sure enough, it was little Forrest.
“How’d you find out?” I ast.
“How could I not find out? It’s been all over the papers and television. Folks are sayin it’s the biggest scandal since Teapot Dome.”
“Since who?”
“Never mind,” he says. “Anyway, I finally got to meet Mrs. Helmsley, who you said was sposed to be so nice.”
“Oh, yeah? She takin good care of you?”
“Sure—she thowed me out.”
“Did what?”
“Thowed us out, bag and baggage, on the street. Said she don’t feature no crook livin in her hotel.”
“So how you gettin by?”
“I got a job washin dishes.”
“Well, I got some money in the bank. There’s a checkbook someplace in my stuff. You can use it to get a place to stay till you gotta go home. Might even be enough to make my bail outta here.”
“Yeah, all right,” he says. “Looks like you really done it this time, though.”
In this, little Forrest seems correct.
After the bail was paid, I was free to go for the time bein. But not far. Me an little Forrest rented a walk-up flat in a neighborhood filled with criminals an beggars an ladies of the night.
Little Forrest was interested to know what I’m gonna do when the trial is helt an, to tell the truth, I dunno mysef. I mean, I was hired to take the fall, an there is a certain amount of honor in doin what you is sposed to do. On the other hand, it kinda don’t seem fair for me to spend the rest of my life in the slammer just so’s Ivan Bozosky an Mike Mulligan can go on livin the high life. One day, little Forrest pipes up with a request.
“You know, I wouldn’t mind goin out to the Statue of Liberty again,” he says. “I sort of enjoyed that trip.”
So that’s what we did.
We took the excursion boat out to the statue, an it was all pretty an gleamin in the afternoon sunshine. We stopped an read the inscription about the “huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” an then we gone on up to the top of the torch, an looked out across the harbor at New York, with all the tall buildins that seemed like they go right on up into the clouds.
“You gonna rat them out, or what?” little Forrest ast.
“Rat who out?”
“Ivan Bozosky an Mike Mulligan.”
“I dunno—Why?”
“Cause you better be thinkin about it an make a decision,” he says.
“I been thinkin about it—I just don’t know what to do.”
“Rattin’s not very nice,” he says. “You didn’t rat out Colonel North...”
“Yeah, an look where it got me—thowed in the can.”
“Well, I took a lot of guff about that at school, but I’d of probably taken more if you’d finked on him.”
In this, little Forrest is probly correct. I just stood there on top of the Statue of Liberty, wonderin an thinkin—which is not my specialty—an worryin, which is—an finally I shook my head.
“Sometimes,” I says, “a man’s got to do the right thing.”
Anyways, the time for our trial has finally arrived. We is herded into a big federal courtroom where the prosecutor is a Mr. Guguglianti, who looks like he oughta be mayor or somethin. He is all surly an unpleasant an address us like we is axe murders, or worse.
“Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Mr. Guguglianti says, “these three men is the worst kinds of criminals there is! They are guilty of stealing your money—your money—personally...!”
An it goes on downhill from there.
He proceeds to call us crooks, thieves, liars, frauds, an I expect he would of called us assholes, too
, if we had not been in a courtroom.
Finally, when Mr. Guguglianti gets finished tar-an-featherin us, it becomes our turn to defend ourselfs. First witness to take the stand is Ivan Bozosky.
“Mr. Bozosky,” our lawyer asts, “are you guilty of insider trading?”
We are bein represented, incidentally, by the big ole New York law firm of Dewey, Screwum & Howe.
“I am absolutely, positively, one-hundrit-percent innocent,” Mr. Bozosky says.
“Then if you did not do it, who did?” the lawyer asts.
“Mr. Gump over there,” Ivan says. “I hired him on as chief of the insider trading division with instructions to put an end to any insider trading, so as to improve my company’s reputation, an what does he do? He immediately proceeds to be a crook...”
Ivan Bozosky goes on like this for a while, an paints a pitcher of me, black as a beaver’s butt. I am “totally responsible” for all the deals, he says, an in fact, I have totally kept them secret from him, so as to enrich mysef. His line is that he knows nothin about anythin illegal.
“May God have mercy on his guilty soul” is the way Ivan Bozosky puts it.
Next, Mike Mulligan gets his turn. He testifies I phoned him up with stock tips, but he has no idea that I am in the know about insider tradin an so forth. By the time they are finished, I figger my goose is cooked, an Mr. Guguglianti be scowlin at me from his table.
At last it is my time to take the stand.
“Mr. Gump,” says Mr. Guguglianti, “just what was your line of work before you became president of the insider trading division of Mr. Bozosky’s company?”
“I was Goliath,” I answers.
“You was what?”
“Goliath—you know, the giant man from the Bible.”
“You stand reminded, Mr. Gump, that this is a court of law. Do not fool with the law, Mr. Gump, or the law will fool with you back—and that is a promise.”
“I ain’t kiddin,” I says. “It was at Holy Land.”
“Mr. Gump, are you some kind of a nut?”
At this, our lawyer jumps up. “Objection, Your Honor, counsel is badgering the witness!”
“Well,” says the judge, “he does sound sort of nutty—claimin to be Goliath an all. I think I am gonna order a psychiatric examination of Mr. Gump, here.”
So that’s what they did.
They took me away to a insane asylum or someplace, where the doctors come in an begun bongin me on the knees with little rubber hammers, which, of course, is an experience I have had before. Next they give me some puzzles to work an ast me a lot of questions an give me a test an, to end it off, they bonged me on the knees some more with their hammers. After that, I am taken back to the witness stand.
“Mr. Gump,” the judge say, “the psychiatrists’ report on you was just what I expected. It says here that you are a ‘certifiable idiot.’ I overrule the objection! Counsel, you may proceed!”
Anyhow, they gone on to ast me a bunch of questions about what my role was in the insider tradin scam. Over at our table, Ivan Bozosky an Mike Mulligan are grinnin like Cheshire cats.
I admitted to signin all the papers an to callin Mike Mulligan from time to time, an that when I did, I did not tell him it was an insider tradin deal, but just a tip. Finally, Mr. Guguglianti says, “Well, Mr. Gump, it appears now that you are just gonna confess that you, an you alone, are guilty as sin in this matter, an save the court all the trouble of provin it—ain’t that so?”
I just sat there for a minute or two, lookin around the courtroom. Judge is waitin with a expectant look on his face; Mr. Bozosky an Mr. Mulligan is leanin back with they arms folded across they chests, smirkin; an our lawyers be noddin they heads for me to go ahead an get it over with. Out in the gallery, I seen little Forrest lookin at me with a kinda pained expression on his face. I figger he knows what I’m gonna do, an that I gotta do it.
An so I sighs, an says, “Yup, I reckon you’re right—I am guilty. I am guilty of signin papers—but that’s all.”
“Objection!” shouts our lawyer.
“What grounds?” ast the judge.
“Well, er, we’ve just established that this man is a certified idiot. So how can he testify to what he was or was not guilty of?”
“Overruled,” says the judge. “I want to hear what he’s got to say.”
An so I tole them.
I tole them the whole story—about how I was Goliath an about the riot at Holy Land, an about Mr. Bozosky gettin me out of havin to go back to jail an all his instructions about signin the papers an not to look at them, an how, after all, I am just a poor ole idiot that didn’t know shit about what was goin on.
What it amounted to was, I ratted out on Mr. Bozosky an Mr. Mulligan.
When I done finished, pandemonium broke out in the courtroom. All the lawyers are on they feet hollerin objections. Newspaper reporters rushed out to the telephones. Ivan Bozosky an Mike Mulligan are jumpin up an down shoutin at the top of they lungs that I am a no good, dirty, double-crossin, ingrateful, lyin, squeeler. The judge be bangin his gavel for order, but ain’t none to be found. I looked over at little Forrest an knowed right then an there I made the right decision. An I also decided that whatever else happens, I am not gonna take the fall for nobody, noplace, nomore—an that’s that.
Like I said, sometimes a man’s just gotta do the right thing.
Chapter Nine
For a while, it looked like I was off the hook, but of course it turned out that was wrong.
Not long after my testimony they carted Ivan Bozosky an Mike Mulligan off to prison. The judge, he thowed the book at them—literally—big ole law book, hit Bozosky square in the head. Next day, a knock come at my door. Standin there was two military police in shiny black helmets with billy clubs an armbands.
“You PFC Gump?” one says.
“That’s my name.”
“Well, you gotta come along with us, account of you is AWOL from the United States Army.”
“AWOL,” I says. “How can that be? I was in jail!”
“Yeah,” he says, “we know all about that. But your hitch runs two more years—that’s what you signed up for with Colonel North. We been lookin for you everplace until we seen you in the newspapers in this Bozosky trial.”
The MP hands me a copy of the New York Post, which reads: DULLARD RATS OUT ON HIGH-ROLLING FINANCIAL MEN.
A man with an IQ described as “in the low 70s” yesterday finked on two of this newspaper’s most popular subjects, resulting in their sentencing to lengthy prison terms.
Forrest Gump, who sources close to the Post described as being “dumber than a rock,” testified before a federal judge in Manhattan that in his capacity as president of the insider trading division of Bozosky Enterprises, he had absolutely no knowledge of any insider trading at the company.
Gump, who has had an apparently checkered career as an encyclopedia salesman, inventor, animal refuse engineer, and sometime spy for the U.S. government, was not immediately available for comment. He was not convicted in the trial, which lasted several weeks.
“So what you gonna do with me?” I ast.
“They probly gonna put you in the stockade till they figger out somethin,” the MP says. About this time, little Forrest come up behin me, tryin to see what’s goin on.
“Who’s this?” the MP ast. “This your boy?”
I didn’t say nothin, an neither did little Forrest. He just glared at the MPs.
“You give me a minute with him?” I says. “I ain’t gonna run off or nothin.”
“Yeah, I reckon that’d be okay. We’ll be outside here—Just don’t do nothin funny.”
Fact was, funny was not on my mind at this moment. I shut the door an set little Forrest down on the sofa.
“Look,” I says, “them fellers come to take me back to the army, an I gotta go with em, you know? So’s I want you to get a bus back home an be ready to start school when it opens. Okay?”
The little guy was statin at h
is shoes an not lookin at me, but he nodded his head.
“I’m sorry about this,” I says, “but that’s just the way things go sometimes.”
He nodded again.
“Look,” I tole him, “I’m gonna try to work somethin out. I’ll talk to Colonel North. They ain’t gonna keep me in the stockade forever. I’ll get this straightened out, an then we’ll make a plan.”
“Yeah, right,” he says. “You got a lot of great plans, don’t you?”
“Well, I made my mistakes. But somethin’s gotta work out. I figger I’ve had my share of bad luck. It’s about time things start to break good.”
He gets up an goes back to his room to start packin. At the door, he turn aroun an looks at me for the first time.
“Okay,” he says. “You ever get out of the slammer, you look me up. An don’t worry about it, hear? I’ll be all right.”
An so I gone on with the MPs, feelin pretty low an pretty alone. Little Forrest is a good-lookin, smart young man by now, an I done let him down again.
Well, just like the MPs said, when we got back to Washington, they put me in the stockade—thowed in jail again. But ain’t long afore they come an turn me loose.
When I got there, I done sent a note to Colonel North, say I think I’m gettin a raw deal here. Couple of months later, he stops by the stockade.
“Sorry about that, Gump, but there ain’t much I can do,” he says. “I am no longer in the Marine Corps, an I’m pretty busy these days watchin out for some of the Ayatolja’s friends who say they want to kill me. Besides, I’m thinkin about runnin for the U.S. Senate. I’ll show them bastids what contempt really is.”
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