The Stranger City Caper
Page 11
The shurff nodded.
He said sure was.
He looked up.
Sheepishly.
He said but there wasn’t nobody up there but that animal.
I said what was the tune?
The shurff said it was “America the Beautiful.”
51
…trying harder don’t never make it harder…
Monroe D. Underwood
Darkness had enveloped Stranger City.
The great butter-yellow moon wallowed through a sea of ragged clouds.
Brandy’s Porsche moved silkily away from the hotel.
Brandy said will you come work with me?
I shrugged.
I said give me a chance to recover from this ordeal.
Brandy said ordeal?
I said well you know.
I said the baseball team and everything.
We turned beyond the ball park and Darby’s Jump Off loomed blackly on our left.
Brandy eased the Porsche to a stop and looked.
She said next time we’re here I want you to make love to me up there.
I said okay next time.
Brandy said shhhhhhhh.
She said Purdue listen.
She said what did you hear?
I said I heard you saying shhhhhhhh.
I said with eight h’s.
Brandy said try harder.
I tried harder.
Down from Darby’s Jump Off and across the chasm of ten thousand yesterdays drifted the silvery notes of a faraway horn.
They rode the balmy night breeze from Stranger City to eternity.
“America the Beautiful.”
Brandy said oh Purdue I think that’s wonderful.
She said what do you think?
I stroked the back of my neck where the hair stood straight up.
I said I think we better get back to Chicago.
52
…oncet I knowed a man what put fifty piranhas in his bathtub…then his mother-in-law used the shower in the basement and spoilt everything…
Monroe D. Underwood
I was parked on the couch with a 1936 Eagles magazine.
I was reading “Where Did All These Fokkers Come From?” by Arch Blockhouse.
I took a slug of my Old Washensachs beer.
I said it’s good to be home.
Betsy said sweetheart it’s wonderful to have you back.
She glanced at the enormous empty cardboard carton in the corner of our living room.
She said that was awfully nice of Tillie Zilch.
She said I think.
She said but what are we going to do with five thousand two hundred and thirty-one baseballs?
I shrugged.
Betsy said well we’re certainly going to have to get them out of the bathtub.
She picked up a copy of the Chicago Globe and curled herself into our big blue chair.
She said I tried to call you in Stranger City.
She said a woman kept answering.
I shrugged.
I said probably the maid.
Betsy said at four in the morning?
I said anything can happen in Stranger City.
Betsy said the voice seemed vaguely familiar.
She said sort of soft and husky-sweet.
I said well Betsy I wouldn’t dwell on it.
I said the maid’s voice was sort of soft and husky-sweet as I recall.
I said she was a very old woman by the way.
Betsy said uh-huh.
I said what night did you call?
Betsy said Monday.
I said well that was when the clubhouse blew up.
I said in all the confusion they probably rang the wrong room.
Betsy said ten times?
I shrugged.
Betsy began to read her newspaper.
She giggled.
Then she laughed heartily.
She said oh my God.
She said Chance I’m reading about Stranger City.
She said the writing is represented as being some dumbbell’s report to a mobster who owns a baseball team down there.
She said it’s called “Dear Cool Lips.”
She said now who could ever be called Cool Lips?
I shrugged.
Betsy said of course such crazy things could never happen and no one could possibly be this stupid.
She chuckled.
She said why there isn’t even any punctuation.
I said well Betsy punctuation ain’t exactly one of the Ten Commandments you know.
Betsy said just imagine catchers with wooden legs and firehouses burning down and dogs being sent out to relieve pitchers.
She said you simply have to read this.
I said who wrote it?
Betsy said let’s see.
She said a woman named Gilda Fitzhugh.
She said it says here that she won a Lucas Award with it.
I said what’s a Lucas Award?
Betsy said whatever it is it’s worth five thousand dollars.
53
…I got a uncle what lives in Upper Maroovia…he went on a visit and found out there was no way to get back…
Monroe D. Underwood
Wallace was saying I am going to sell this house of horrors and move to the wilds of Upper Maroovia where I will hunt bxfpsts.
I said Wallace you better stay the hell out of Upper Maroovia.
Wallace said why?
He said bxfpsts ain’t dangerous.
I said no but Sister Lucy Halfbright is.
Old Dad Underwood said I ain’t never seen none of them creatures.
Wallace said they all looks the same.
He said they is delicious pan-fried.
Old Dad Underwood said well to each his own but I ain’t about to eat nothing I can’t pronounce.
I lit a frazzled Camel and listened to the jukebox play Alte Kameraden.
Wallace bought me a beer.
He said how did it go in Stranger City?
I shrugged.
I said how much time you got?
Wallace glanced over my shoulder.
He said Chance that guy is back.
Cool Lips Chericola came in.
He was followed closely by Fat Ears Bonnoroni.
Fat Ears sat at the bar and Chericola took a seat in the third booth.
He lit a cigar and leaned back.
I picked up my beer and sat across from him.
Chericola slid a pair of one-thousand-dollar bills across the table.
He whipped out an envelope and opened it.
He said hey kid amma now reada you fromma you Stranger City report.
He cleared his throat.
He said inna valley of forever atta foota greena mountain olda clubhouse gone forever where the windsa moan with sorrow anna tree tops rustla softly inna shade and inna shadow witha dusta Stranger City velvet dusta Stranger City lay eternal onna lilacs inna sunlight anna moonlight witha dew drop anna tear drop listna to the barrela organ make sweet music inna valley inna valley of forever.
He said that’s only firsta sentence.
Chericola leaned across the table and put his hand on my arm.
He squinted at me.
He said hey kid whattsa that mean?
I shrugged.
I said it means Moose Edwards blew it.
Chericola silenced me with a wave of his hand.
He said is sounda justa like “Hiawatha.”
He said you know “Hiawatha”?
I shrugged.
I said not personally.
Chericola said hey kid is this Hiawatha who getta me kicked outta school.
An affectionate teardrop shone in Chericola’s eye.
A tear from the mossy well of memory.
He brushed it away.
He said damn cigar smoke.
He said is reada “Hiawatha” inna matha class and inna gymma class.
He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his n
ose.
His voice quavered.
He said bya shoresa Gitchagoomba bya shina blue sea water stooda wiggawam Nakoma anna grandson Hiawatha.
He said hey kid you notta dumb as you look.
He said thissa beautifula stuff.
He said hey kid amma senda you bonus.
He said sixxa grand.
I didn’t say anything.
Chericola dried his reptilian eyes.
His pockmarked face grew hard.
He said hey kid you read thatta Deara Coola Lipsa stuff inna paper?
I said no but I heard about it.
Chericola said hey kid broad whattsa write that gonna end up inna trunka Pontiac.
I shrugged.
I said I doubt if she’ll fit.
54
…when I stop to remember
The good friends I’ve had
My very worst enemies
Don’t seem quite so bad…
Monroe D. Underwood
I was halfway home when I thought of cigarettes.
I reached into a pocket of my coat.
Nothing.
I tried the other.
No cigarettes but I found a cassette.
I didn’t recognize it as one of mine.
I stopped in front of a drugstore and bought a pack of Camels.
When I came out I lit one and popped the cassette into the player.
The barrel organ tune cavorted through the Olds.
Stranger City came back to me.
Its lilacs.
Its clear starry nights.
Its great butter-yellow moon.
Its out-of-tune piano.
Its bright dew-spangled mornings.
Its sun-warmed park bench.
Its hill and its grotesque monument and its thousand outraged birds.
Its silence.
Its dust.
The merry-melancholy tune bounced along and a voice came from the speakers.
A soft husky-sweet voice.
Brandy Alexander said Purdue I’ll be seeing you.
I shrugged.
I turned the tape player off.
I started the Olds and drove west.
I couldn’t think of a single reason to doubt her.
…I thought I saw a dragon up in my apple tree…I never mess with dragons and they don’t mess with me…
Monroe D. Underwood
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