“Shut up,” I yell back, “crocodile trap!”
Some hilarious comeback. Presto, he’s bellowing, swivelling his hips, going into absolute convulsions. Ah! If only Sosthène were here for this! They’d make a perfect team… this has got his Hindu trances beat! This guy knows how to work his drums! His sticks move so dizzying fast you lose track! And then, with the limberest limbs, he flips them to the ceiling, they whiz back into his hands, snap! Like they’re on rubber bands!… Quite a performance… he can zap a fly at twenty yards!… And zip! Pop them back into his fist! Ten-Paw is watching him, gawking like a jerk… It’s a tremendous routine, Ten-Paw couldn’t even come close! Can’t resist calling over to the snazzy gigolo!…
“So, what’ve you got to say about that, Bony? See that fly?” I want to rile him in broad public…
Nobody’s listening to me… For starters I’ve lost track of Ten-Paw… he’s melted into the melee with the kid on his arm. It’s the Tweet-Tweeters who’re bellowing and shouting… swarming all over the dance floor. No mistake about it. This is one hell of a big party… Ah! But there’s our skeleton again! I glimpse him in the mirrors! Carrying on like a weirdo too… going head-to-head with the Negro… he won’t let himself be outdone…
“Hey! Jelly-belly!…”
Amazing, but you can’t see his glow any more… it disappears into the dazzle… just his head and rags left, he’s floating in his tatters… his dome pure bone, period… they must think it’s a mask, a crank’s crazy idea… plus they’re too busy… bumping, grinding into each other, rumbaing their bellies red-hot until the whole tunnel is braying and neighing… Not your ordinary delight… the crowd’s grunting, roaring in glee… they’re much too busy… they mustn’t even smell the stink, the reek he’s giving off… the fragrance in the tunnel overpowers everything, like a huge blast of verbena… it would make you black out too the way it goes right to your head… anyway the scuzzball’s swallowed up… I have a clear look at the dancers now, one enormous vat of bliss… everybody all wriggly, giggly, squealing… my eyes are adjusting… and ba-boom! From the big bass drum, a blast that sends the whole mob, the joyful swarm flying up into the air… with each whack they leap three feet off the floor… the whole scene a riot of black and bright… satin dresses, sequins… and the way everybody’s hopping, hooting… it’s seething down here, people dancing in threesomes, tensomes, twentysomes! Wait, what am I saying! In packs of a thousand, Christ Almighty! Squealing away, and the big drum that keeps stirring them around, and the trombone, raging! Raucous, raising hell! And “Tweet-Tweet” everybody sings in chorus, hollering out the words! Ten-Paw can really let it rip! Nobody’s bothering him! Did he skip off with the kid? I can’t spot her blond hair any more! Here we go again! Maybe he hid her somewhere… Doesn’t matter too much right at the moment… he’s putting on his act, amazing his audience! He wants to outshine the Negro… He walks up a few steps… he’s going to take a flying leap right into the hoopla smack onto the heads of the Tweet-Tweeters! There he goes! Into the shaft! His whole body bounces all the way up to the ceiling! His whole body! Not just a limb or two! Boing! Right into a mirror! Zapping flies can’t even compare! His whole body in one bounce! Pretty astounding, got to admit… even this jaded crowd is impressed… they let out a group “ahhh!”… Our slimeball has got his revenge… Their poor spook’s been creamed… yes, but where’s Virginia?… I’m not going to go hollering her name, hear it echoing all over the place, it’ll just be good for a laugh, nothing more… they’re wowed by Ten-Paw, all hot watching him… true, he’s out of this world, fluttering everywhere at once… lighter than air, totally weightless… floating, a bundle of rags above the audience… a genuine freak, a literal flake hovering in the air, drifting, swaying however he likes… gives people a pat, grazing their heads, hanging straight down from the ceiling like a spider… unreeling himself above them as if along a thread… and whoosh! A gust, and he escapes! That’s how he sails around!… He’s the life of the party in rags and bones! Boggles the mind, got to admit, how the guy keeps his balance, the way he whisks through empty air… What an eyeful for the fired-up Tweet-Tweeters! Squawking down on the dance floor of their tunnel… in wild amazement, in excitement… “More! More!…” Now he’s done it, he was their idol! They’re clamouring for him to top himself! Somersaults, genuine showstoppers… right in mid-air… he went through some rigadoon moves, capering like a crazy spider… way above their heads… another twirl, a waltz… and then he returned, swaying above, grazing the crowd… head down, feet mirror-ward, a genuine fly scurrying through the air… his old rags fluttering about… such admiration it stirred! Oh! Such gasps!… So much so that a few women dancers felt sick… just because they were guffawing so much with delight!… Big puddles of piss everywhere… the way he stuck to the walls was truly phenomenal, clambering straight up vertical, flitting about comically, plus with his head upside down, and all to the beat! Of the blasting blare! Too side-splitting even for the Negroes… they couldn’t even play their instruments any more… slayed with hysterics… crumpling into a heap on the floor, and the dancers along with them trying to catch their breath… that’s what Ten-Paw could do to people!… Shooting backwards straight up to the ceiling! Never seen such a performer! From up there he goes flying into the walls! Shoots back to sway over the heads in the crowd… packs a phenomenal power, soaring around without strings any more! Ah! He’s captivating the entire audience… the flying skeleton!… I’d love for Sosthène to see him! Sosthène with his get-a-load-of-me-now trance dances! His Pépé! His granddad in a box! He’d pick up a trick or two! Ah! The poor slob and his China! He’d have a look at a real head-spinning performance! At what virtuoso magic’s all about, genuine gravity-defying feats! That clown with his slithering costume antics! Ah, the poor chump! I might hate Ten-Paw as much as I wanted, but he never failed to bowl me over… a truly wonderful performer… three times ten times twirling between the walls and the big chandelier… a pirouette, skim the crowd, with a rap on the drum he rebounds! Goes into his act all by himself in mid-air! A frantic insect! whirling and twirling to the music! Nobody in the joint’s dancing but him!… All heads tilted up… they’ve stopped in their tracks fascinated… Ah! I grab a hand… somebody standing against the wall… it’s my darling! What joy! I love her!… “Is that you, Virginia?…” There in the sea of dumb gawkers… What a miracle! Jeez, she’s trembling like a leaf… so nervous she’s stuttering… latched onto me and clinging… It’s Crazy Legs up there who’s scaring her!… She points to him.
“Well,” I go, “so what? He’s just a circus clown!” I want to put her mind at rest… he’s swaying right above the jazz band, above the Negroes… back and forth… hanging from sheer nothing! That special touch which makes him the miracle man…
“Isn’t he wonderful?” she asks, fascinated as well… she’s stammering… and he’s hovering up above lighter than air…
“He’s a pathetic gagster, come on, you damn little cretin! He’s playing tricks with your eyes!”
She’s a pain in my damn neck carrying on about this rotten show-off, this scumbag prankster, joker, this piece of human shit! “Human” is way too polite, that’s giving him too much credit! I tell it to her straight, rip into her.
“He’s using trick mirrors, can’t you see?”
She opens her mouth, nothing comes out, she’s dumbfounded, period! Ah! I can’t figure out what kind of number he did on them! They’re gaga, standing in their piss… it’s that old beyond-the-catacombs glamour… they’re looking at that crazy thing up above convulsing its way through the air… it astounds them, they’re rocking back and forth purring in astonishment… Now he’s back attacking the drum… a few rolls and then on to the piano!… He all-fours it across the keys… a racket in octaves! A horrendous grinding din that sends your eyes rolling and punishes your earlobes! Ah! The ravager! The fiend! And he’s tickled pink! He woke up the whacked-out crowd, got to admit… they burst out in acclaim, howling… he
pays his respects from on high, from the chandelier… perched triumphant… these ovations inspire him all the more… he whisks off again into the air… endless somersaults between ceiling and floor… never touching the ground… his spirits flying high with his virtuoso brilliance! Ah! We’ve got ourselves one terrific little pal! We can be proud of the way he carries on!… The kid’s standing there with her mouth open, it’s real simple, gaping up towards the ceiling, her mind a blank… it’s the dirty bastard’s hypnotic spell… he’s the only person left in the world, that coon, that clown, that decaying creep… didn’t she smell the stench he spread through the street a little while back? And what about the restaurant! During the mussels, the endives, the quails?… Didn’t she smell anything? And out in the street, didn’t she see what he slipped me from his guts? Wasn’t it something foul? Didn’t it turn her stomach to see what he was made of? That rotten bag of bones, that crooked unsavoury thug? I shouted to him above the roar so she could hear me and get it through her head… and snap out of her stupor. Now he was a one-man band, a cacophony all to himself… beating on all the drums, plucking all the strings, blowing on all the brass, into every instrument as he flew past! Suspended in the air acrobatically! Three fingers on the piano and plllinng! He runs through all the scales! A mighty ripple… and all this with his head upside down… he nabs the drum while whizzing past! Carries it off! Sways with it through space… you’ve never seen such dexterity in your life… a miracle-worker working on nothing at all!… Keeping up his sway he sucks on a flute, starts playing! A genuine little hummingbird in the air… he tosses the flute into the cymbals! Tilling! What a funny guy! The audience is stomping in excitement! It does a number on the kid, first she’s crying, then laughing, she’s nuts… “Oh! Whoa-oh oh oh oh!” she goes, caterwauling, she’s a different person… He’s doing a jazz routine now, solo… he drops to the stage with the Negroes… smack into the bass drum he cannonballs his full load, bones, rags, the works!… And boing! He bounces all the way to the other end of the room… comes flying back into the bass with a tremendous bone clatter… sounds like he’s blowing apart, scattering in smithereens… endless ovations… they adulate him fanatically… a genuine rage rattling them, they’re slamming into each other… They want to catch Ten-Paw, he’s just too fascinating… They raise their three hundred arms into the air… and catch nothing at all!… Nothing but smoke… he’s just a spinning top over their heads… whirling so fast so fast as he rotates he sings, the air zinging over their heads… a head-spinning living top… that describes him… he turns into pure speed, momentum, like a huge cannonball of blue light… and then even faster! Faster still! And clang! He’s crashed into the bass drum… and comes out the other side like through a cloud… a ray of pink light… here he comes… shooting back out handsome as ever! The big blue cannonball has stopped dead… there he is, firmly planted, right in his element in charge up on the drum… his finger in the air above everybody… his long finger of bone… he’s got something impressive to show us… up on the drum he cuts quite a figure… it looks like he’s stretched a few inches, I mean along the whole length of his carcass, his bones… a literal scarecrow… plus that head of his… his death’s head… Doesn’t that rub these nutcases the wrong way? Can’t they see what kind of phoney they’re dealing with? And on top of everything he shouts out to them…
“Ladies!…” he twangs out. “Ladies! Gentlemen! We are here to present you Virginia, the virgin beauty! And Ferdinand, her jealous lover!”
He follows that with a long drum roll played by himself… peppering out a dense barrage on drumsticks, fingers, even his long toes get into the act… shoeless on all fours… a whirlwind on the drum… the whole room’s rattling! Rattling… Then he plants himself back on his feet, frozen, bolt upright… looks the audience up and down… seems like he’s spied me… spotted me back at the other end of the mirrors… I can’t catch every word he’s saying… he’s shooting his mouth off in that famous quaver of his… the people aren’t paying him any mind… they’re wailing out, they don’t want to hear another word… they’re doing donkeys, pigs, dogs… they rush the stage… they’re going to grab hold of Virginia… and he’s the guy who pointed her out to us, the monster funambulist! Now they’ve got it in for me too, they all want to lay their paws on me any way they can… That’s it, they’re holding me now, shaking, yanking me by my trousers… is this some kind of sickness? What’s wrong with them? Are they wackos? Is this some drunken frenzy? “Tweet-Tweet!” they all cheep… that’s their refrain… they chant it with every shake… maybe this is going to turn into a hunt?… A slap-bang sacrifice… and they’re going to spit-roast, then chow us down?… Meantime they’re getting all entangled, fouled up in each other, maybe this is the dance of the victims? Dancing in foursomes! Sixsomes! Eightsomes! By the dozen! It’s one hell of a mess… a screaming tumult in every corner… the whole mob’s back on the move… Virginia and I are snatched up, lifted, carried off… it’s a dizzying whirl… a farandole, no mistake about that… jiggly-wriggly… humpy-bumpy… and shouting their lungs out! The whole joint, mirrors, piano, lamps rattling and rocking… plus the walls!… All too much for a place like this… the crowd’s too revved up, full of too many frenzied fun-lovers, any minute now the roof’s going to come crashing down… we’ll all be buried alive… That’s what I think deep down… all hell’s broken loose! Just as I’d suspected… the whole band’s caterwauling… they’ve revved their racket back up… possessed, shouting “Tweet-Tweet!” What a squawk!… They holler, shout themselves hoarse from every corner… between the trumpets, the drums… a wild crazy shimmy-shaking without let-up… Ten-Paw grabs a flute while whizzing past, still flying high, plus a sax, blows into it, sends up one of those wails! A sour squawk, a nightmarish desecration… pure hell on the ears… followed by another dam-burst meow… it grates on the Tweet-Tweeters’ nerves… they wail twice as loud, hard… in pain, they embrace each other, cuddling, swaying in rhythm the whole time, noisily sucking each other’s mouth – let me spell it out for you, it’s an orgy… simply appalling behaviour… smacking each other with kisses so hard they’re wearing themselves to a frazzle… I can see how they’re bleeding, frothing at noses and ears… and eye sockets… genuine bloodsucker cruelties… they hit it off horrifyingly well… keyed up all the way, glued belly to belly, their bodies intertwine, and bump by bump melt into a mob… if the music breaks off, even for a second, they scream for blood… they can’t stand it!… “Murderer! Bloodsucker!” they yell… they’re ready to tear the whole damn joint to pieces… they want their pleasure before anything else! The Negroes don’t want to hear another word… they’re scared, bellyaching… What a huge mess in store!… I can see disaster heading right our way… Lucky thing it was just a petty sulking fit… they strike their ruckus back up… full brass, strings and trombones!… Ah! This great aaah! Of relief… bad blood had them ready to slit each other’s throat… the whole party’s back in full swing… just two-three couples poop out, collapse, swoon away under foot… all the wild dancers tread on top of them, trampling, crushing, barking with delight… The big Tweet-Tweet dance party’s really cooking now… pure mass hysteria, literally, the whole mob whooping it up crazier and crazier… the entire tunnel’s seething, especially in the far corners the crowd’s on fire… genuine fiends in all four corners… and the fun’s just starting!… They’re preparing one last assault… the rowdiest characters, I mean… they’re sniffing us out over there… I can see them gathering in a huddle… I keep my eye on them in the corner… sniffing out Virginia and me… there’s something special going on, nobody’s fooling me, nothing surprises me any more, this is some ploy… they’re hatching the nastiest sorts of plots… the meanest, dirtiest… I’m ready for anything and everything! Where’d our scumbag disappear? Our bony crony, our high-flying acrobat? I can’t spot him any more… but he’s around here somewhere for sure… he’s in hiding, ducked for cover, but he’s the mastermind of the crew… I’
m ready for the lewd devils… and here comes ten, four, a dozen stampeding, about to shoot out of the mob… they work free, fling themselves forward, they’re on top of us!… Can’t withstand their impact… Virginia and I are snatched up, lifted, carried off, worked over by ten… twenty… a hundred gentle hands… feeling us up, pulling us apart… pitching us… high into the air… catching, smothering us in hugs… at least a half-dozen women wrap me in their arms, rub up against me shamelessly… I should take a harder stand, lay down the law… but might is on their side… my Virginia, my darling, my sweet kid, my little devil, where are you?… Ah! The sneaky bitches are tearing me to pieces… See you soon, Virginia, my fairy child… on the other side of the cyclone! But in what condition, twenty thousand tears later! I ought to rip off my gloves, howl, rend these creatures to shreds… Brazen rapists smothering, tackling me six at a time… I’ve never felt anything like this before in my life! What they’re doing to me is positively disgusting!… They’re numbing me with kisses, heavy-duty hickeys that suck the breath right out of me… they twist, turn me upside down… head to floor… yank off my undershorts… revolting maenad antics!… With lip-to-lip action that makes me scream!… They’ll never get me hot and bothered! Let them give it their best shot, crush, swallow me up in their crazy clutches, get under their skin, I’ll never be their little sweetheart, never swoon for them!… Faithful in my fervour, first and foremost! Against any and everybody, fucking hell! They dump me in a small cubbyhole, now they’re ten against one… and I call them every name in the book! Cocksuckers! She-donkeys! Gargoyles! They make me jump up onto their laps… nothing I say makes them mad!… Just as I am, underpants down. I can see myself in the mirrors… my sorry-looking puss… I can see their expressions too, the she-devils! Their hair flying like wild in the storm! They’re in heat, in a frenzy, red-hot and ready! I’ll defend myself with fervour! With Virginia’s memory! All and everything for her adored little face! The whores want me to take a swig of something… another trap!… Some witches’ brew! “First some chicken! Chicken! Caviar!” I push aside their dirty glass!… A last-ditch move… magnificently cool and collected! I’ll take a swig only when my mouth’s full… then spew the whole mess out, blah! Right in their dirty, goddamned painted faces!
London Bridge Page 26
