I knew the rat bastads were gonna do it, Jesus krist they gripe my shit the rotten bastads, the dirty rotten bastads; and Harry and Marion suddenly stopped, simultaneously, fondling each other as the smell of the popper titillated their noses and they sat up and leaned into the aroma and looked at the people sitting and lying around, giggling and roaring with laughter, Hey man lay one on us, and a yellow popper came floating through the air and Harry grabbed it and he and Marion lay down, side by side, their bodies almost penetrating each other, and Harry snapped the popper and they both breathed deeply and held tight to each other as their bodies started to vibrate and their heads whirled and for a moment it felt as if they would die, but then they started to laugh and push even harder against each other, grinding with their laughter, the popper jammed between their noses; and Tony leaned forward even further, You scum bag muthafuckas I got ya fuckin strawberry douche ya douche bag pricks, and he raised his right hand and aimed the old .22 target pistol he was holding at the set, you aint fuckin with me any more ya rotten pricks, cockteasin me along with ya goddamn shows an then shove it up my ass wit that fuckin bullshit when Im waitin ta see what happened; and everyone had a popper up their nose and were rolling and scratching and sweating and laughing and Tony peered even harder at the set, Ya been fuckin wit me long enough with ya fuckin dog food, and douche bags, and under fuckin arms an no smell shit paper, he was yelling louder and louder, his face as red as the others who were sweating behind the poppers, and they watched and listened to him as they stared through sweat stung eyes, hysterical with laughter, YA HEAR ME? EH? IVE HAD YA BULLSHIT YA FUCKIN PRICKS, and he squeezed the trigger and the first slug hit the tube dead center and there was a mild explosion that momentarily covered the hysterical laughter and Tonys screaming and sparks and flames burst out at an angle and huge hunks of thick glass assailed the room as smoke drifted up and around the set and Tony stood up screaming hysterically, I GOT YA NOW YA MUTHAS CUNT, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA-HAHAHAHA, and he fired another shot into the dying television set, YA GONNA GET EVERYTHINS THATS COMMIN TO YA, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, and another shot went into the crumbling body, HOW DO YA LIKE IT? EH? HOW DO YA LIKE IT YA PUNK ASSED MUTHA FUCKA, and he kept edging toward the set and fired another shot into the smoking remains of the once noble set, YA THOUGHT YA COULD GET AWAY WIT IT, EH? DIDN YA? EH? and the others continued to watch and laugh and shake as he put one more slug into the body as he continued walking toward it and then he stood over it, savoring the last slug, glaring, grinning, and gloating at the shattered and smoldering remains, watching the spastic sparks leap and crawl then shoot along the electrical cord and burst and fizz as they reached the socket and smoke curled from the burned wire and plug, and Tony started to drool slightly as he watched the set tremble under his gaze, as it shook and begged for mercy, for one more chance, I'll never do it again Tony, I swear on my mudders head, Tony, pleeze, pleeze, give me anotha chance, Tony, I'll make it right, I swear, I swear on my mudders head I'll make it right for ya Tony, and Tony sneered at the set as it begged and pleaded, Tonys whole being filled with contempt for the sniveling sonofa-bitch, CHANCE??? CHANCE???? I GOT YA FUCKIN CHANCE, SWINGIN, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, YA CANT EVEN DIE LIKE A MAN YA PUNK SON OF A BITCH, pleeze, Tony, pleeze . . . dont shoot, pi— SHAT UP, PUNK, and Tonys expression was bulging with contempt as he twisted and looked the set right in the eye and told it in a soft, vicious voice, Suck on this, and fired the last shot into the trembling and still pleading body of the television set and it shivered slightly from the coup de grace and one last spark jumped across a foot of burned space and fizzled away into eternity as the final wisp of smoke whirled into the atmosphere and commingled with the smoke from the pot and hash and cigarettes and the popper scented air and sought freedom from various and sundry cracks and crevices to disperse itself in the atmosphere. Tony shrugged and jammed the gun into his waist, I toldya not ta fuck wit me, and he shrugged again, nobody fucks wit Tony Balls, eh? and he joined the others and took the popper offered him and did it in and fell on the floor laughing with the others as somebody offered up a prayer for the deceased, between giggles, and Harry and Marion had another popper jammed between them as their bodies continued to grind into each other as they laughed and clung like skin to each other and the music continued to drift through the smoke and laughter and through ears and heads and brains and minds and somehow came out the other side undisturbed and unchanged and everyone felt good man, I mean real good, like they just beat a murder rap, or made it to the top of Mt. Everest, or got heavy with sky diving or floating through the air like a bird, yeah, soaring and floating on the currents like a bird, just like a big bird man . . . yeah . . . like they were suddenly cut loose, like they were suddenly free . . . free . . . free . . .
Sara Goldfarb sat in her viewing chair polishing her nails as she watched the television. Her conditioning had been long and thorough and Sara was able to do anything while watching the television, and do it to her satisfaction, without missing a word or a gesture. Maybe it wasnt perfect, maybe a little polish got on the fingers and it looked a little lumpy, but who would notice? From a few feet away it looked like a professional job. And even if it didnt, whats the big deal? Who did she have to polish her nails for? Who did she have to worry would see its not so good? Or the sewing or the ironing or the cleaning? No matter what she is doing one and a half eyes on the television makes the job, the day and life pass bearably on. She held a hand out in front of her and looked at the nails while looking at the television screen between her spread fingers. She stared at her fingers indulging herself in the optical illusion that made it look like fingers were piled on top of each other and that she was looking through them. She smiled and inspected the other hand. Such a nice red. Gorgeous. Goes so nice with the dress. Lose a few pounds and the dress would fit like new. The top started to fall away from her shoulders as she moved and she pulled it together in the back and leaned back in the chair so it wouldnt fall again. She loved the red dress. She should be able to lose weight. She could always let the seams out a little maybe. The library will have books. Tomorrow I'll go and get the books and go on a diet. She put another chocolate covered cream in her mouth and let the chocolate slowly melt and savored the flavor of the chocolate mixing with the cream center then slowly squeezed the chocolate between her tongue and the roof of her mouth and smiled and half closed her eyes as her body tingled with tiny shocks of delight. She tried desperately to allow the candy to slowly dissolve by itself but as hard as she fought the urge to bite and chew it was useless and her eyes suddenly opened wide and her expression stiffened into one of seriousness as she chewed the candy with intensity and rolled it once or twice then gulped it down, wiping the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand. They have plenty of books in the library. I'll ask for the one I should get. The one that does it quick. Maybe soon I'll be on the television so soon I need to fit in the red dress. She stared at the screen aware of the action and the words, but her mind was still centered on the box of chocolates on the table next to her chair. She knew exactly how many were left . . . and what they were. Four. Three dark chocolate, one milk chocolate. The milk chocolate was a chocolate covered cherry with the cherry juice filling. The other three was one caramel, one brazil nut, and one nougat. The cherry was last. That was already pushed to the side of the box so she wouldnt pick it up by mistake while watching television. The others were first. Maybe she wouldnt even look what one she was taking. But the schedule was made. Just like always. The nougat, the brazil nut, then the caramel. Then wait as long as possible before eating the chocolate covered cherry with the cherry juice filling. She always played a game. For how many years the same game? ten? Maybe more. Since her husband died. One night she let it sit in the box alone ... all alone for the whole night. Even the million dollar movie and the late show. She went to bed and it was still there alone in the box with the empty brown papers that all the other chocolates had been so sweetly nestled in. She had looked defiantly at the candy before going to bed. She
snapped her head at the box and felt so ipsy pipsy as she undressed and nestled between the sheets and fell almost instantly asleep. Her sleep was restful, as far as she remembered, void of dreams of troubles, then she suddenly bolted up in the middle of the night, her forehead pitted with cold sweat, and for endless seconds she sat there staring into the darkness, listening, wondering why she was awake and what had awakened her and wondering if someone had broken into her apartment and was about to hit her and she strained her ears but heard nothing and sat perfectly still, barely breathing, for many seconds, then jerked the covers off and rushed to the living room, going unerringly through the dark to the table with the piece of chocolate and scooped it up as if her hand had been divinely directed and almost fainting as the first rush of flavor assailed her brain and she folded in her viewing chair and listened to herself chomp the milk chocolate covered cherry with the cherry juice filling, then staggered back to her bed. The next morning she awoke early and sat in the soft filtered light, trying to remember something, but not knowing what. She vaguely sensed that something had happened and assumed it had been a dream, but as hard as she tried she could not remember the dream. She rubbed the soles of her feet and then her temples but still she could not remember the dream. She hit her head for many seconds with her knuckles trying to stimulate her memory, but still... nothing. She got up and wandered, unthinkingly, into the living room instead of the bathroom, turned on the television, and suddenly became aware of herself as she was standing over her viewing chair looking at the empty chocolate box. She stared for many long moments, then she remembered her dream and almost collapsed in her chair and shook slightly as she fully realized that she had eaten the chocolate covered cherry with the cherry juice filling the night before and couldnt really remember eating it. She tried remembering biting into it and feeling the cherry juice oozing onto her tongue, but her mind and mouth were empty. She almost cried as she remembered how she had fought so hard to make the box of chocolates last two days, something that had never happened before, twice as long as ever before, and she was going to save the last for morning so she could say it was three days and now it was gone and she didnt even remember eating it. That was a bleak day in the life of Sara Goldfarb. She never let that happen again. Never again was she so foolish as to try and make it last or save it for later or the next day. Tomorrow would take care of itself. God gives us one day at a time, so one day at a time shes eating her chocolates and knowing she ate them. She smiled at the handsome announcer and reached over and gently picked up her final chocolate, the milk chocolate covered cherry with the cherry juice filling, and placed it on her tongue and sighed as she teased it with her tongue and teeth, feeling the tingle of anticipation in her body and the slight knot in her stomach and then she could fight no more and started to ease her teeth into the softened chocolate covering and continued to exert pressure as the flavors of the chocolate and the cherry juice twitched in her mouth and then the covering was parted like the red sea and the captured cherry floated to freedom and Sara Goldfarb rolled it around her mouth filled with flavors and fluids that she allowed to slowly trickle down her twitching throat and then she rolled her eyes back as she bit into the cherry, but didnt roll them back so far that she would miss any of the action on the screen. She licked her fingers and then held her hands, one at a time, in front of her and inspected the cherry red nail polish then stared through her spread fingers at her television set, and snuggled into herself as she walked from the rear of the stage to the front, wearing her cherry red dress that fit so good since she lost the weight, and the gold shoes that look so rich on her feet, and her hair was such a gorgeous red like you wouldnt believe— O, I almost forgot. The hair. It should be red. Its so long since it was red. Tomorrow I'll ask Ada to dye my hair. So who cares if red doesnt show so good. Im wearing red. Except the shoes. Except the shoes Im all red. When they ask my name I'll tell them Little Red Riding Hood. Thats what I'll say. I'll look the television camera right in the eye as the little red light is winking and blinking and tell them Im Little Red Riding Hood.
Harry walked Marion home. The night was warm and humid, but they werent too aware of the weather. They knew it was warm and humid, but it remained a fact outside themselves and not something they were experiencing. Their bodies still tingled and tensed slightly from the poppers and the laughing, and they also felt loose and cool from all the pot and hash. It was a delightful evening, or morning, or whatever it was, for walking the streets of that part of the Apple called the Bronx. There was a sky somewhere above the tops of the buildings, with stars and a moon and all the things there are in a sky, but they were content to think of the distant street lights as planets and stars. If the lights prevented you from seeing the heavens, then perform a little magic and change reality to fit the need. The street lights were now planets and stars and moon.
Even at this time of the morning the streets were fairly active with cars, cabs, trucks, people and occasional drunks. A block away two staggered vaguely in their direction. The woman kept tugging on the arm of the guy, I gotta pee. Fa krists sake stop so I can pee. Cantya wait five minutes fa krists sake. Its just anotha couple a blocks. No. I gotta pee. Back it up the ladder. Whatta ya think Ive been doin? My molars are floatin. Jesus krist, your some pain in the ass, ya know that? Yeah? Well it aint my ass thats buggin me. She grabbed him and they stopped and she lifted her skirt and hung on to his belt and squatted behind him and started to pee, Hey, what the hell ya doin ya crazy bitch?— Ahhhhhhhh that feels so good— You some kindda nut or— Stop wigglin, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh— Aintya got no shame? He spread his legs tryin to avoid the ever widening and ceaseless flow of an evenings beer drinking as she continued to sigh with life saving relief easily ignoring the gentle splashings that tingled her legs, her eyes closed in absolute ecstasy as she swayed back and forth, tugging at his belt as she reached the end of the arc in either direction, he trying to maintain his own precarious balance and tug her back in the other direction while doing a quick pantomime to avoid the results of the opening of the floodgates, Let go fa krists sake, but she continued to tug and sigh and pee, Ya gonna pullus—suddenly he noticed Harry and Marion and he jerked himself to attention, smiled, and spread his arms out to hide his crouching lady friend of the emptying bladder. Harry and Marion adroitly, though sleepily, avoided the stream and stepped over it with aplomb and Harry smiled at the guy, Your old ladys a pisser man, and then laughed, and he and Marion continued down the street and the guy watched them for many seconds and then an emergency bell went off in his head as he felt his body lurch to one side and he tried to resist and maintain his balance, but lost the valiant but short battle and found himself floating in the air toward the rapids below, Hey, what the fuck ya doin ya crazy—and he hit the surface of the stream with a splat and floundered around, HELP! HELP1 while his lady friend lay sprawled on her back continuing to sigh, ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, and to add volume and speed to the rivers flow as her defender and companion of the evening splattered and splashed, I CANT SWIM, I CANT SWIM, and finally through grim determination and pure grit reached shallow ground and pulled himself ashore and knelt, with his head hanging, catching his breath as his lady of the evening rolled over with another long sigh and curled up in a fetal position and went to sleep in the sheltering bushes of the rivers headwaters. Harry was chuckling and shaking his head, Juice heads are too much, aren't they? They really have no class, no class at all.
He and Marion continued along the streets aware of the dryness in their throats and a yearning in their stomachs. They stopped in an all night diner and got a piece of pie with a couple of scoops of ice cream, chocolate and strawberry syrup and whipped cream, with an egg cream on the side. Marion paid the check and they continued to her place. They sat around the kitchen table and Marion lit a joint. Harry suddenly started to chuckle, That broad was somethin else. That guy needed a canoe. Marion passed the joint to Harry, then slowly let the smoke out. They should have pissoirs on the streets. Then she wouldn't have to degr
ade herself just to urinate. Men can go in an alley or behind a parked car and its perfectly acceptable, but if a woman does it shes ridiculed. Thats what I loved about Europe, theyre civilized. Harry tilted his head as he looked at her and listened then half smiled and half smirked as he passed the joint back to her, I dont know if youre talkin to your shrink or a judge. There was still a little bit of the joint left and she offered it to Harry and he shook his head so she carefully put it out and placed it on the edge of the ashtray. Well, doesnt the whole thing stink? I mean its utterly ridiculous. Women arent supposed to piss or shit or fart or smell or enjoy getting laid— excuse me, I mean having sex. Hey baby, Im innocent, okay? Remember me? I didn't say a word. Thats okay, I need to practice on someone. Well, go practice on your shrink. He gets paid for it. She smiled, Not anymore. You cutim loose? Not exactly. Im seeing him, but not as a patient. Harry laughed, You ballin him too? Occasionally. As the mood hits me. My folks ask me if Im still seeing him and I tell them yes so they keep giving me the fifty dollars a week for him.
Requiem for a Dream Page 5
