by Paul Merton
I shall never forget the Thursday when the thing happened. I retired to my room at about six o’clock, fortified with a pony of porter and two threepenny cigars, and manfully addressed myself to the achievement of Chapter Five. McDaid, who for a whole week had been living precariously by selling kittens to foolish old ladies and who could be said to be existing on the immoral earnings of his cat, was required to rob a poor-box in a church. But no! Plot or no plot, it was not to be.
“Sorry, old chap,” he said, “but I absolutely can’t do it.”
“What’s this, Mac,” said I, “getting squeamish in your old age?”
“Not squeamish exactly,” he replied, “but I bar poor-boxes. Dammit, you can’t call me squeamish. Think of that bedroom business in Chapter Two, you old dog.”
“Not another word,” said I sternly, “you remember that new shaving brush you bought?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, you burst the poor-box or it’s anthrax in two days.”
“But, I say, old chap, that’s a bit thick.”
“You think so? Well, I’m old-fashioned enough to believe that your opinions don’t matter.”
We left it at that. Each of us firm, outwardly polite, perhaps, but determined to yield not one tittle of our inalienable rights. It was only afterwards that the whole thing came out. Knowing that he was a dyed-in-the-wool atheist, I had sent him to a revivalist prayer-meeting, purely for the purpose of scoffing and showing the reader the blackness of his soul. It appears that he remained to pray. Two days afterwards I caught him sneaking out to Gardiner Street at seven in the morning. Furthermore, a contribution to the funds of a well-known charity, a matter of four-and-sixpence in the name of Miles Caritatis was not, I understand, unconnected with our proselyte. A character ratting on his creator and exchanging the pre-destined hangman’s rope for a halo is something new. It is, however, only one factor in my impending dissolution. Shaun Svoolish, my hero, the composition of whose heroics have cost me many a sleepless day, has formed an alliance with a slavey in Griffith Avenue; and Shiela, his “steady,” an exquisite creature I produced for the sole purpose of loving him and becoming his wife, is apparently to be given the air. You see? My carefully thought-out plot is turned inside out and goodness knows where this individualist flummery is going to end. Imagine sitting down to finish a chapter and running bang into an unexplained slavey at the turn of a page! I reproached Shaun, of course.
“Frankly, Shaun,” I said, “I don’t like it.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “My brains, my brawn, my hands, my body are willing to work for you, but the heart! Who shall say yea or nay to the timeless passions of a man’s heart? Have you ever been in love? Have you ever—?”
“What about Shiela, you shameless rotter? I gave her dimples, blue eyes, blonde hair and a beautiful soul. The last time she met you, I rigged her out in a blue swagger outfit, brand new. You now throw the whole lot back in my face… Call it cricket if you like, Shaun, but don’t expect me to agree.”
“I may be a prig,” he replied, “but I know what I like. Why can’t I marry Bridie and have a shot at the Civil Service?”
“Railway accidents are fortunately rare,” I said finally, “but when they happen they are horrible. Think it over.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“O, wouldn’t I? Maybe you’d like a new shaving brush as well.”
And that was that.
Treason is equally widespread among the minor characters. I have been confronted with a Burmese shanachy, two corner-boys, a barmaid, and five bus-drivers, none of whom could give a satisfactory explanation of their existence or a plausible account of their movements. They are evidently “friends” of my characters. The only character to yield me undivided and steadfast allegiance is a drunken hedonist who is destined to be killed with kindness in Chapter Twelve. And he knows it! Not that he is any way lacking in cheek, of course. He started nagging me one evening.
“I say, about the dust-jacket—”
“Yes?”
“No damn vulgarity, mind. Something subtle, refined. If the thing was garish or cheap, I’d die of shame.”
“Felix,” I snapped, “mind your own business.”
Just one long round of annoyance and petty persecution. What is troubling me just at the moment, however, is a paper-knife. I introduced it in an early scene to give Father Hennessy something to fiddle with on a parochial call. It is now in the hands of McDaid. It has a dull steel blade, and there is evidently something going on. The book is seething with conspiracy and there have been at least two whispered consultations between all the characters, including two who have not yet been officially created. Posterity taking a hand in the destiny of its ancestors, if you know what I mean. It is too bad. The only objector, I understand, has been Captain Fowler, the drunken hedonist, who insists that there shall be no foul play until Chapter Twelve has been completed; and he has been over-ruled.
Candidly, reader, I fear my number’s up.
*
I sit at my window thinking, remembering, dreaming. Soon I go to my room to write. A cool breeze has sprung up from the west, a clean wind that plays on men at work, on boys at play and on women who seek to police the corridors, live in Stephen’s Green and feel the heat of buckshee turf…
It is a strange world, but beautiful. How hard it is, the hour of parting. I cannot call in the Guards, for we authors have our foolish pride. The destiny of Brother Barnabas is sealed, sealed for aye.
I must write!
These, dear reader, are my last words. Keep them and cherish them. Never again can you read my deathless prose, for my day that has been a good day is past.
Remember me and pray for me.
Adieu!
1 “Truagh sin, a leabhair bhig bháin
Tiocfaidh lá, is ba fíor,
Déarfaidh neach os cionn do chláir
Ní mhaireann an lámh do scríobh.”
[“It is a pity, beloved little book
A day will come, to be sure,
Someone will inscribe over your contents
‘The hand that wrote this lives not.’” (Trans. Jack Fennell)]
2 Who is Carruthers McDaid, you ask?
WELCOME TO FRIENDLY SKIES!
Joyce Carol Oates
Joyce Carol Oates (1938–) is an American novelist, short story writer and essayist noted for her vast literary output in a variety of styles and genres. She has won a host of prizes, including the National Book Award, two O. Henry Awards, the National Humanities Medal and the Jerusalem Prize. Oates has taught at Princeton University since 1978.
Ladies and gentlemen WELCOME to our friendly skies!
WELCOME aboard our North American Airways Boeing 878 Classic Aircraft! This is North American Airways Flight 443 to Amchitka, Alaska—Birdwatchers and Environmental Activists Special!
Our 182-passenger Boeing Classic this morning is under the able command of Captain Hiram Slatt, discharged from service in the United States Air Force mission in Afghanistan after six heroic deployments and now returned, following a restorative sabbatical at the VA Neuropsychiatric Hospital in Wheeling, West Virginia to his “first love”—civilian piloting for North American Airways.
Captain Slatt has informed us that, once we are cleared for takeoff, our flying time will be between approximately seventeen and twenty-two hours depending upon ever-shifting Pacific Ocean air currents and the ability of our seasoned Classic 878 to withstand gale-force winds of 90 knots roaring “like a vast army of demons” (in Captain Slatt’s colorful terminology) over the Arctic Circle.
As you have perhaps noticed Flight 443 is a full—i.e., “overbooked”—flight. Actually most North American Airways flights are overbooked—it is Airways protocol to persist in assuming that a certain percentage of passengers will simply fail to show up at the gate having somehow expired, or disappeared, en route. For those of you who boarded with tickets for seats already taken—North American Airways apologizes for this unforese
eable development. We have dealt with the emergency situation by assigning seats in four lavatories as well as in the hold and in designated areas of the overhead bin.
Therefore our request to passengers in Economy Plus, Economy, and Economy Minus is that you force your carry-ons beneath the seat in front of you; and what cannot be crammed into that space, or in the overhead bin, if no one is occupying the overhead bin, you must grip securely on your lap for the duration of the flight.
Passengers in First Class may give their drink orders now.
SECURITY:
Our Classic 878 aircraft is fully “secured”: that is, we have on board several (unidentified, incognito) Federal Marshals for the protection of our passengers. Under Federal Aviation Regulations, no Federal Marshal, pilot or co-pilot, or crewmember is allowed a firearm on board any aircraft, for obvious reasons. However, under extenuating circumstances, in the event of the aircraft being forced to land unlawfully, a pilot of the rank of captain or above is allowed one “concealed weapon” (in Captain Slatt’s case, a .45-caliber handgun worn on his person); with the captain’s permission, his co-pilot is similarly allowed a concealed weapon. (In this case, copilot Lieutenant M. Crisco, much-decorated ex-Navy pilot, is also armed with a .45-caliber handgun.) Federal Marshals are armed with tasers of the highest voltage, virtually as lethal as more conventional weapons, which, as they say, they “will not hesitate to use if provoked.”
As passenger security comes first with us, all passengers are forewarned that it is not in their best interests to behave in any way that might be construed as “aggressive”—“threatening”—“subversive”—“suspicious” by security officers. All passengers are urged to report to the nearest flight attendant any suspicious behavior, verbal expressions, facial tics and mannerisms exhibited by fellow passengers; this includes the perusal of suspicious and “subversive” reading material. As Homeland Security advises us: “If you see something, say something.”
To which Captain Slatt has amended grimly: “See it, slay it.”
Note also: Federal Aviation Regulations require passengers to comply with the lighted information signs and crewmember instructions. Please observe the NO SMOKING sign which will remain illuminated through the duration of the flight; smoking is prohibited throughout the cabin and in the lavatories though allowed, under special circumstances, in the cockpit. All lavatories are equipped with smoke detection systems and Federal Law prohibits tampering with, disabling, or destroying these systems; accordingly, Federal Marshals are deputized to punish violators of this regulation at once, and harshly.
We will quote Captain Slatt in a more waggish mood: “If you smoke, you croak.”
*
We crewmembers of North American Airways are here to ensure that you have a comfortable trip but we are primarily concerned about your SAFETY. With that in mind we ask that you take the North American Airways Safety Information Card out of the seat pocket in front of you and follow along as we perform our SAFETY demonstration.
SEAT BELT:
Our first and most important safety feature is the SEAT BELT.
Now that you are all comfortably seated please follow instructions: to fasten your seat belt, insert the metal fitting into the buckle until you hear a sharp click! If some of you are (as we noticed with derisive little chuckles as you’d shuffled on board) “plus-size” you may have some difficulty fitting your belt across your paunch; simply ring your overhead service bell and an airflight attendant, or two, or three as the case may be, will force the belt in place. The ensuing click! means that the belt is securely locked in place. Next, adjust your SEAT BELT to fit snugly with the loose end of the strap. Your SEAT BELT should be worn low and tight across your lap like a leather belt that has, for some obscure reason, slipped from your waist to bind you tightly across the thighs like a vise that will prevent your pants from “falling down” as well as pulling them taut to assure a proper crease even in the event of aircraft catastrophe.
Yes, your SEAT BELT is locked in place. (Didn’t I just tell you this? Why are some of you struggling to unlock your locked seat belts, if you have been listening?) Flight 443 to Amchitka, Alaska is a very special flight. Article 19 of Homeland Security Provisions allows for specially regulated flights over “nondomestic” (i.e., foreign) territories to suspend “buckle release” privileges for such duration of time as the captain of the aircraft deems necessary for purposes of safety and passenger control.
Use of lavatories on this flight has been suspended, for reasons explained. So you can see there is no practical purpose in your seat belts not being locked.
In any case you have all signed waivers (perhaps under the impression that you were signing up for Frequent Flyer credits) that grant to the flight captain a wide range of discriminatory powers for security purposes. (Such waivers are fully legal documents under Federal Statute 9384, Homeland Security.)
EMERGENCY EXITS:
Those passengers who unwittingly find themselves in “emergency exit rows” are expected to assist our (badly understaffed) flight attendant team in the (unlikely) event of an emergency. Namely, you will be expected to struggle to open the very heavy exit door which might be warped, stuck, or in some other way unopenable, even as terrified fellow passengers are pushing against you and trampling you amid the chaos of a crash or forced landing.
Passengers who believe that they are not capable of such courageous and selfless altruism in a time of emergency should raise their hands at once to have their seats reassigned.
(“Reassigned” where?—that, you will discover.)
EMERGENCY MEASURES:
In the (unlikely) event of an EMERGENCY your seat belts are guaranteed to ‘pop open” to free you. And in the (unlikely) event that your seat belt is malfunctioning and remains in lock mode, a flight attendant will help you extricate yourself, if there are any flight attendants still remaining in the cabin after the emergency announcement.
As you are on a Boeing 878 Classic aircraft you will find that there are ten emergency exits of which the majority are in the First Class and Economy Plus compartments. A map of the aircraft will indicate five doors on the left and five doors on the right, each clearly marked with a red EXIT sign overhead.
All doors (except the overwing doors at 3 left and 3 right) are equipped with slide/ rafts (except in those instances in which the overwing doors are at 5 left and 7 right). These rafts are intended to be detached in the event of a WATER EVACUATION. The overwing doors are equipped with a ramp and an off-wing slide. (A thirty-foot ‘slide” into icy waters is an astonishing visceral experience, survivors have claimed. Some have confirmed that the slide was a “life-altering” experience not unlike the euphoria induced by an epileptic attack or a “near-death” experience and that they “believe they are more spiritual persons for having lived through it”).
Life rafts are located in “pull-down” ceiling compartments at the overwing doors. For our passengers in First Class, your escape routes near the front of the aircraft are clearly marked: FIRST CLASS EXIT. Passengers in Economy Plus, Economy, Economy Minus, Overhead Bin, and Hold are advised to locate the two exits nearest you, if you can find them; two exits is preferable to one, or none, in case one exit is blocked by crammed and crushed bodies or by flaming debris. Detailed instructions regarding slides and rafts are available in cartoon illustrations in the safety information card for slower-witted passengers or for passengers in states of extreme apprehension.
Though the odds of survival in the freezing waters of the Pacific Ocean even amid flaming wreckage are not high you will find in our air flight magazine Friendly Skies Forever! a monthly feature of interviews with passengers who somehow managed just this miraculous feat, in such hostile yet scenic environments as the Cape of Good Horn, the northern seacoast of Antarctica, the Bering Strait, and our destination today, the murky turbulent shark-infested icy waters of the Aleutian Islands strangely beloved by birdwatchers and environmentalists.
FLOOR-PATH LIGHTING:<
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This state-of-the-art aircraft is equipped with aisle-path lighting, which is located on the floor in the left and right aisles. In the event that “cabin visibility” is impaired—that is, in the event of a “black-out”—the exit path should be illuminated by these lights, except in those instances in which the “black-out” is total.
