Winston Groom - Gump & Company.jpg

by Gump

  Everbody there shook my hand—the mayor, governor, attorney general, an the senator, as well as they wives—even Sergeant Kranz, who was wearin his dress uniform. The mayor concludes his talk by sayin what a fine feller I am, an thankin me for "revitalizin the town of Coalville by creatin this marvelous invention." He then says everbody should stand for the playin of "The Star-Spangled Banner."

  Just before the band begun to play, there was a slight sort of tremor in the ground, but nobody much seemed to notice it but me. Durin the first verse, the rumblin in the ground begun again, an this time some folks started lookin around kinda nervous like. When they got to the high part of the song, there was a third rumble, a lot louder than the first, an it caused the ground to shake, an a pane fell out of a winder of a store across the street. It was about now it dawned on me that somethin bad was fixin to happen.

  I had been so nervous that mornin when I was tryin to get into my suit an my tie an all that I had forgot to release the main pressure gauge at the power plant. Little Forrest had always tole me this was the most important thing to do ever day, account of somethin serious might go wrong. By now, most folks are still singin, but some is sort of mumblin to each other an turnin they heads to see what is happenin. Sergeant Kranz lean over to me an ast, "Gump, what in hell is goin on?"

  I was fixin to tell him, when he found out for hissef.

  I looked up at the hill where the plugged-up mine entrance was, an suddenly they was this humongous explosion! A big flash of light an flames, an then KA-BLOOIE! the whole thing done blowed up!

  Next instant, everthin got completely dark, an I thought we had all been kilt! But soon I heard a kind of low moanin around me, an when I wiped my eyes an looked around, it was a sight to see. Everbody on the speakin platform was still standin there, kinda in shock or somethin, an they was all covered in pig shit, head to toe.

  "Oh, my God!" shouts the governor's wife. "Oh, my God!"

  I looked around some more, an damned if the whole town ain't covered in pig shit, includin, of course, the five or six thousan people in the crowd out in front. The buildins, cars, buses, ground, streets, trees—everthin, about three or four inches deep! The guy playin the tuba in the band was the strangest sight of all. He was so surprised, I guess, that when the explosion happened, he was blowin a long note an didn't quit—just kept on tryin to blow his note with the tuba full of pig shit, an it looked sort of like a souffle about to get done.

  I turned around again, an there was Sergeant Kranz, starin me right in the face, eyes all bugged out, teeth bared—somehow he'd even managed to keep his army hat on.

  "Gump!" he hollers. "You fuckin idiot! What is the meaning of this?"

  Before I could answer, he reach out to grap me by the throat, an I figgered what is comin next, so I leaped over the railin an run away as fast as I can. Sergeant Kranz an everbody else, them what was able, anyway, begun to chase me, too. It seemed like a familiar situation.

  I was tryin to get home to the farm, but I realized they ain't no place to hide there, probly—at least not from a mob that has just been hit with a million pounds of Poland China pig shit, an blamin it on me. But I runned just as fast as I could, which is considerable, an by the time I got to the house, I has outdistanced them somewhat. I was gonna try an pack my bag, but suddenly, here they come up the road, hollerin an yellin, an so I run out the back door an go into the barn an get Wanda, who look at me kinda funny but follows me anyhow. I runned past the pens an across the pasture, an damn if all the hogs don't start chasin us, too—even the ones in the pens, what broke through an joined the mob.

  Only thing I can think of is maybe to get into the swamp, so that's what I did. I hid there till sundown, while there was a lot of cussin an shoutin all around me. Wanda, she had enough sense to keep quiet, but when night come, it is cold an wet an there is flashlights shinin through the swamp, an ever so often I can pick out a person carryin a pitchfork or hoe, just like in the Frankenstein movie. They even got helicopters overhead, shinin their lights, an loudspeakers demandin that I come out an surrender.

  To hell with that! I say, an then along comes my salvation. I hear a train in the distance on the far side of the swamp an figger this is my only chance to make a break for it! Wanda an me, we slogged out onto higher ground an by some miracle managed to jump on board a boxcar. Inside, there is a little dim candle burnin, an I make out a feller settin there in a heap of straw.

  "Who in hell is you?" he ast.

  "Gump's my name," I says.

  "Yeah, who's that with you?"

  "Her name's Wanda."

  "You got a girl with you?"

  "Sort of," I says.

  "What you mean, sort of—you got some kind of transvestite there?"

  "Nope. She's a polled Duroc hog, might win some prizes one day."

  "Hog?" he says. "Greatgodamighty! I ain't had nothin to eat in a week."

  I can see this might be a long trip.

  Chapter Five

  After a little bit on the train, the feller's candle burnt out, an after he coughs for a while, it seem like he has dozed off. An so we rode on in the dark with the wheels clackin an the boxcar swayin an rockin, an finally Wanda done put her head in my lap an gone to sleep. Me, though, I stayed up for a while, wonderin how in hell I am always gettin myself into these kinds of fixes. Everthin I touch, it seems, turns directly to shit. Literally.

  Next mornin there is a faint little light comin in through the doors of the boxcar, an the feller in the corner begins to stir an starts coughin again.

  "Hey," he says, "why don't you open the doors a little an get us some fresh air?"

  I gone over an opened the door about a foot or so. We is passin by houses an some dingy ole buildins, an everthin is gray an cold, cept for a few little Christmas decorations on people's doors.

  "Where we headed?" I ast.

  "Near as I can figger, Washington, D.C.," the feller say.

  "Hell, I been there," I says.

  "That a fact."

  "Yup, long time ago. I went to see the President."

  "What of?"

  "The United States."

  "What, was there a parade or somethin?"

  "Nah, it wadn't no parade. I went to his house."

  "Yeah, I bet that pig of yours flew over it, too."

  "Huh? Wanda don't fly."

  "I know," he says.

  I turned aroun to look at him, an there is somethin terribly familiar about the feller's eyes, though his face is covered with a black beard an he is wearin a ole hobo-lookin hat.

  "Say," I ast, "what's your name, anyhow?"

  "What's it to ya?"

  "Well, you look sort of like somebody I knowed once, that's all."

  "Yeah? Who?"

  "A feller from the army. Way back in Vietnam."

  "What'd you say your name was again?"

  "Gump."

  "Yeah? I knew a Gump one time. What's your first name?"

  "Forrest."

  "Oh, shit!" the feller says, an he thows his arms up over his face. "I might of known it!"

  "Well, who in hell are you?" I ast.

  "Goodgodamighty, Forrest, don't you recognize me?"

  I crawled across the straw an got up real close to his face.

  "Why, you're..."

  "No, I reckon you don't. I wouldn't expect you to—I've kinda gone down recently," he says in between coughs.

  "Lieutenant Dan!" I shouted, an grapped him by the shoulders. But when I looked into his eyes, they is a awful sort of milky white, like he can't see or somethin.

  "Lieutenant Dan—what has happened to you?" I says. "Your eyes..."

  "I'm mostly about half blind now, Forrest."

  "But how?"

  "Well, it's a lot of things," he says. An when I get a better look, it is really terrible. He is thin as a rail an dressed in rags. The little stumps where his legs was are pitiful lookin, an his teeth are bad.

  "I suppose it's all that stuff from Vietnam catchin up with me,"
he says. "You know, it wasn't just my legs that was shot—it was all up in my chest an stomach, too. I reckon after a while it caught up with me. Say—what's that smell? Is that you? You smell like shit!"

  "Yeah, I know," I says. "An it is a long story."

  Well, Lieutenant Dan begun to cough again so hard I laid him down an gone over to my side of the boxcar, thinkin it might be my smell that was makin him do it. I just couldn't believe it! He looked like a ghost, an I am wonderin how he wound up in such sorry shape, especially after all the money he got from our srimpin bidness, but I figger there is time to ast about that later. In a little bit, he stop coughin an dozed off again, an I am settin there with Wanda, wonderin what is gonna happen to us all.

  About a hour to two later, the train slowed down. Lieutenant Dan starts coughin again, so I reckon he is awake.

  "All right, now, Forrest," he says, "we gotta get off of here before the train comes to a full stop, else they will call the police on us and put us in jail."

  I looked out the crack in the doors, an we is comin into a big ole railroad yard with a bunch of rusty freight cars an junk an ole cabooses, an a lot of trash an garbage blowin in the cold wind.

  "This is the Union Station," Dan says. "They have remodeled it just for us."

  Just then, the train come to a stop an then begun to back up slowly.

  "Okay, Forrest, now's our chance," Dan says. "Open that door and let's get out of here."

  I thowed open the doors an jumped out. Ole Wanda is standin there with her snout pokin out of the boxcar, an I runned up beside her an grapped her by the ear an pulled her down. She let out a big "oink" when she hit the ground. Next, I runned up to where Dan was settin, right behin her in the boxcar door, an grapped him by the shoulders an set him down easy as I could. He was carryin his artificial legs with him, but they was pretty scuffed up an dirty.

  "Let's crawl under that freight over there before the engine comes by an they see us," Dan says. So that's what we did. Finally we has arrived in our nation's capitol.

  It is freezin cold an the wind is whippin up around us, an there are little snowflakes in the air.

  "Forrest, I hate to tell you this, but I think you gotta get cleaned up before we go out an take in the sights," Dan says. "I saw a pretty big mud puddle back there, if you know what I mean."

  So, while Dan strapped on his artificial legs, I gone over to the mud puddle an took off my clothes an got in an tried to rinse off as much pig shit as I could. Wadn't easy, cause it had mostly dried by now, specially in my hair, but somehow I did it, an after that, I washed my clothes an put em back on. It was not the most pleasant experience of my career. When I was finished Wanda took a turn hersef, figgerin, I spose, she was not gonna be outdone.

  "Let's walk on up to the station," Dan says. "Least it's warm in there and you can dry out."

  "What about Wanda?" I ast.

  "I been thinkin about that," he says. "Here's what we do."

  While I am takin my bath, Dan has found a ole piece of rope, an when Wanda got through with hers, he ties it around her neck for a leash. He has also picked up a long stick, an when he takes Wanda's leash in his hand an walks behin her with the stick, tappin it on the ground, damn if he don't look like a blind man on the street! Well, sort of, anyhow.

  "We'll see how this works," he says. "You let me do the talking."

  So we gone on into the Union Station, which is filled with all sorts of fancy-lookin people, most of who is lookin right at us.

  I looked down on a empty bench an there is a copy of The Washington Post, all messed up, but somebody done turned to a page inside that says: IDIOT CAUSES NOXIOUS BLAST IN WEST VIRGINIA. I just couldn't help but read it:

  Longtime Senator Robert Byrd of West Virginia said he has "seen some shit in his lifetime," but nothing to compare with the humiliating experience he underwent in the small mining village of Coalville yesterday.

  Byrd, a staunch supporter of businesses small and large in his native state, was standing on a speakers' platform with a dozen other luminaries, including representatives of the U.S. Army and the federal EPA, when a terrible methane gas explosion tore through the town, covering everything and everyone in sight with an unsightly patina of swine manure.

  The explosion apparently was set off when a certified idiot, later identified as Forrest Gump, of no fixed address, failed to properly attend a cutoff valve in a plant that received federal funds to convert pig manure into energy.

  Police Chief Harley Smathers described the scene this way: "Well, I cain't hardly describe it at all. I mean, they was all them important people standin there up on the stage. And after it happened, ain't none of them said nothin for a moment or two, I reckon they was just too startled or something. Then the ladies, they begun to holler and cuss, and the men, they begun to sort of flinch around an mutter—look like the Swamp Thing character on TV. After a while, they must of figgered who the culprit was—this Gump feller, I guess—an organized a posse of sorts to run him down.

  "We chased after him for a while till he took into Mud Bottom Swamp. Apparently he had a accomplice with him, big ole fat feller disguised as a pig or somethin. We lost him there after dark. Legend around here is, don't go into Mud Bottom Swamp at night. No matter who's in there."

  "You got any money?" Dan ast.

  "Bout ten or fifteen dollars," I says. "How bout you?"

  "Twenty-eight cents."

  "Well, maybe we can get some breakfast," I says.

  "Hell," Dan says. "I sure wish we had enough to go to the oyster bar. Man, what I wouldn't give for a dozen oysters on the half shell right now. Served up over crushed ice, with one of them little crystal bowls for sauce on the side—lemons and Tabasco and some Worcestershire an horseradish."

  "Well," I says, "I reckon we could do that." Matter of fact, I know I ain't got much cash on me, but what the hell. I remember ole Lieutenant Dan in Vietnam, always talkin about how much he liked raw oysters. I figger, bad off as he is now, why not?

  Ole Dan, he is so excited he is about to bust, an his legs begun to clatter as we go down the hallways.

  "Assateague or Chincoteague oysters," he says, "don't matter which. Even good ole Chesapeake Bay oysters'll do! Hell, mysef, I prefer the Pacific Coast variety—Puget Sound salties, or some of the Oregon State breeds. Or, then, down from the Gulf Coast, where you come from—Bon Secour or Heron Bay oysters, or over at Apalachicola, Florida, they used to have some delicious mollusks!"

  Dan was kinda gettin beside hissef, an I think his mouth was waterin as we walked across a great big marble-floored hall toward where the signs say Restaurant an Oyster Bar. But just afore we go inside it, a policeman come up an order us to halt.

  "What you clowns think you're doin?" he ast.

  "Gettin our breakfast," says Dan.

  "That so?" says the policeman. "An what's that hog doin here?"

  "That is a licensed seein-eye hog," Dan says. "Can't you see I'm blind?"

  The cop be lookin at Dan pretty hard in the face, an finally he say, "Well, you look kinda blind, but we can't let no hog inside the Union Station. It's against the rules."

  "I tole you, this is a seein-eye hog. It's perfectly legal," Dan says.

  "Yeah, well, I heard of seein-eye dogs. But ain't no such thing as a seein-eye hog," say the cop.

  "Yeah," say Dan. "Well, I am livin proof that there is—ain't that right, Wanda?" He reach down an patted Wanda on the head, an she give out a single loud grunt.

  "So you say," the policeman answers, "but I ain't never heard of any such thing. Besides, I think you better show me your driver's licenses. You fellers look kinda suspicious."

  "Driver's licenses!" Dan shouts. "What kind of people would give a driver's license to a blind man?"

  The cop, he thinks a minute, an pointin his thumb at me, says, "Yeah, maybe you're right—but what about him?"

  "Him!" Dan shouts. "Why he's a certified idiot. You want him drivin around in your city?"

  "Yeah, well, ho
w come he's all wet?"

  "On account of he fell down in a big mud puddle outside the station here. What kind of people are you, allowin such mud puddles? Why, I think you oughta be sued or somethin."

  The cop be scratchin his head now, an I guess tryin to figger out how to deal with this situation without makin hissef look like a fool.

  "Well, all this may be so," he says, "but if he's a idiot, what's he doin here? Looks like maybe we oughta lock him up or somethin."

  "It's his hog," Dan answers. "He is the best seein-eye hog trainer in the world. He might not be smart, but it's one thing he can do. Hogs are smarter than dogs—most of em even smarter than people. But they need a good trainer."

  At this, Wanda give out another big grunt an then peed right on the nice marble floor.

  "All right—that's it!" the cop holler. "I don't care what you say! You bozos are outta here!"

  He grapped Dan an me by the collars an start draggin us to the doors. In the confusion, Dan done dropped Wanda's leash, an by the time the cop turn aroun to see where she was, he suddenly got a real funny look on his face. Wanda is back about twenty yards behin, lookin at the cop with them squinty little yeller eyes of hers, an she is pawin the marble an gruntin an snortin to beat the band. Then, without no further warnin, she done charged across the floor straight at us, but Dan an me, we knew who she's aimin at, an so does the cop.

  "Oh, my Lord! Oh, my Lord!" he shouts an takes off runnin fast as he can. I let Wanda chase after him for a moment or two an then called her back. Last we see of that cop, he is headed for the Washington Monument. Dan picks up the end of Wanda's leash again, an we walked on out the door of the Union Station an onto the street, with Dan tappin the ground with his stick.

  "Sometimes a man gotta stand up for his rights," he says.

  I ast Dan what we gonna do next, an he say we need to go on down to Lafayette Park, across from the White House, account of it is the prettiest piece of public property in the town, an is also the main place in the city where they let folks like us camp out an do our thing.