Death on the Installment Plan

by Louis-Ferdinand Celine

  “Sick? Sick? …” That shoots through him like a rocket. A magic word! … “Ho ho! Christ, that’s the last straw!” He bursts out laughing … “That’s a revelation!” He’s off the handle again … “But it’s him. Can’t you see that, you poor innocent? … It’s this little hoodlum … My Lord, can’t you get it through your noodle … it’s this infernal little villain that’s making us all sick! This slimy viper! Hes after our hide. He’s always been plotting against us! He wants us dead and buried! That’s right! We’re in his way! He doesn’t even bother to hide it …’He wants the old folks to conk out … It’s obvious. It’s plain as day! And the sooner the better. His behavior is unbelievable. He’s in a hurry! It’s our wretched two cents he’s after! Our miserable crust of bread he’s got his eye on! You haven’t noticed? That’s it, all right. The little scum knows what he’s doing! The scoundrel! The bloodsucker! He knows. He’s got eyes in his head. He sees how we’re wasting away! He’s rotten through and through! Just take it from me! I know him if you don’t! Even if he is my son!” He starts trembling again, his whole carcass is quaking, he’s beside himself … He clenches his fists … His stool is creaking and dancing … He’s winding up, he’s going to lunge … He comes back blowing up my nose … more insults … more and more of them … I feel things coming up in me too … And the heat besides … I pass my two hands over my face … Suddenly everything looks cockeyed … I can’t see straight … Just one jump … I’m over him. I lift up the big heavy machine … I lift it way up. And wham! … I give it to him full in the face! He hasn’t got time to parry … He goes over under the impact, the whole business topples … table, man, chair, the whole shebang in all directions … They fall on the floor and scatter … I’m caught up in the dance … I stumble, I fall … That does it, I’ve got to finish the stinking bastard! Bzing! He’s down again … I’m going to smash his kisser! … So he can’t talk anymore … I’m going to smash his whole face … I punch him on the ground … He bellows … He gurgles … That’ll do. I dig into the fat on his neck … I’m on my knees on top of him … I’m tangled up in his bandages … both my hands are caught. I pull. I squeeze. He’s still groaning … He’s wriggling … I weigh down on him … He’s disgusting … He squawks … I pound him … I massacre him … I’m squatting down … I dig into the meat … It’s soft … He’s drooling … I tug … I pull off a big chunk of moustache… He bites me, the stinker! … I gouge into the holes … I’m sticky all over … my hands skid … he heaves … he slips out of my grip. He grabs me around the neck. He squeezes my windpipe … I squeeze some more. I knock his head against the tiles … He goes limp … he’s soft under my legs … He sucks my thumb … he stops sucking … Phooey! I raise my head for a minute … I see my mother’s face on a level with mine … She’s staring at me, her eyes twice their size … Her eyes are so big I start wondering where I am … I let go… Another head appears from the stairs … over the corner of the banister … That one’s Hortense. Must be. It’s her all right. She lets out a terrible scream: “Help! Help!”’ She almost splits a gut … That does something to me. I let go my old man … One jump … and I’m on top of Hortense! … I’m going to strangle her! I want to see how she wriggles! She struggles … I daub her face … I close her mouth with the palms of my hands … The pus and blood from the boils squash on her face and drip down … She gurgles louder than Papa … I latch on to her … She struggles … She’s hefty … I want to choke her too … It’s amazing … It’s a hidden world that spasms in your hands … It’s life … Get a good feel of it … I knock her skull stubbornly against the banister … It thuds … There’s blood in her hair … She yells! It’s split. I dig a big finger into her eye … I haven’t got the right hold … She breaks loose … She’s up again … She gets away … She’s a strong one … She clatters down the stairs … I can hear her yelling outside … raising hell … screaming at the top of her lungs … “Murder, murder! …”I hear echoes, voices. A crowd comes running … they gallop into the shop, they jostle at the bottom of the stairs … They push and shove on every landing … An invasion … I hear my name … Here they come … They go into a huddle on the third floor … I look out … Somebody’s coming … It’s Visios! He’s the first one to pop out … He plunges in from the landing … There he is, firm, menacing, resolute … He points a revolver at me … straight at my chest … The other bastards come around behind me, encircle me, grunting, bawling the hell out of me … Hurling threats at me, insults … The old man is still out cold … still on the floor … with a little trickle of blood flowing from his head … I’m not angry anymore … I don’t give a damn … Visios bends down, touches the bundle, Papa grunts and moans a little …

  The bastards push me around, they’re stronger … They’re pretty brutal … They drag me down the stairs … they won’t even listen to my mother … They push me into the room downstairs … I take the blows as they come … I’ve stopped resisting … I get some from everybody, especially in the balls … I can’t fight back … The wickedest of the lot is Visios … I get a kick square in the stomach … I stagger … I don’t double up … I stay put, glued to the wall … They leave, spitting in my face as they go … They lock me in.

  I’m all alone … pretty soon I begin to tremble … My hands … my legs … my face … inside … all over … I have a lousy sick feeling, a panic in my kidneys … like everything was falling apart, coming off in shreds … like a hurricane was shaking me … My whole carcass is rattling, my teeth are chattering … I’m dead to the world … I’ve got a spasm in my asshole … I shit in my pants … My heart’s pounding so hard I can’t hear what’s going on … I can’t make out what they’re doing … My knees are knocking together … I stretch out on the floor … I don’t know what’s what … I’m scared … I feel like yelling … I haven’t knocked him off, have I? Shit! To hell with that … But my asshole is opening and closing … A spasm … it’s awful.

  I think of Papa again … The sweat’s dripping off me and what’s left is cold … I swallow it through my nose … I’m bleeding … The cocksucker scratched me … I wasn’t very rough … I’d never have expected him to be so weak, so mushy … It’s amazing … It was easy to squeeze … I remember how I was kneeling there with my fingers locked in front … the slobber … and the way he suckled my thumb … I can’t stop shaking … I’m trembling all over … All you’ve got to do is squeeze! … My face is twitching all over … I groan! Now I can feel every one of those bastards’ blows … I’m scared shitless … It’s my asshole that hurts worst … It keeps on twisting and tightening … It aches like hell.

  Shut up in that room, stretched out on the tiles, I kept on trembling a long while, banging against everything in sight … I bumped into the clothes cupboard … it sounded like castanets … I’d never have thought I could have such a tempest inside me … The jolting was unbelievable … I flapped around like a lobster … It came from way inside … “I’ve knocked him off!” I said to myself … I was more and more sure of it, and then for a moment I heard something like the sound of steps … people talking things over … And then they were pushing the bed upstairs …

  “That’s it! They’re taking him away …” But a minute later I heard his voice … That was him all right! … He was only punch-drunk! “I must have bashed his head in,” I began to think. “He’ll conk out later. That’ll be even worse …” He was still on my bed … I could hear the springs … Actually I didn’t know a thing. And then my stomach heaved … I began to vomit … I even pushed to make it come up … That made me feel a lot better … I vomited up everything … The shivers started in again … They shook me so hard I didn’t know who I was anymore … I was surprised at myself … I threw up the macaroni … I started in again … It did me a whole lot of good. Like I was getting rid of everything … I threw up everything I could all over the floor … I pushed and strained … I bent double to make myself puke still more and then came slime and then froth … It splattered,
it spread under the door … I vomited up everything I’d eaten for at least a week and then diarrhea too … I wanted to call them to let me leave the room … I dragged myself to the pitcher that was standing by the fireplace … I shat into it … After that I couldn’t keep my balance … My head was spinning … I collapsed again and let it all out on the floor … I shat some more … A flood of marmalade …

  They must have heard me floundering around … They came and opened … They took one look at the room … They locked it up again … Maybe ten minutes later Uncle Édouard came in … He was all alone … I hadn’t put my pants back on … I was covered with shit … He wasn’t afraid of me … “Get dressed now,” he says to me … “You go down first, I’m taking you away …” He had to hold me up. I was trembling so bad all over I couldn’t button my pants … Finally I did what he said … I went down ahead of him … There was nobody on the stairs anymore or in the shop either. Everybody had cleared out … They must have gone home … They had plenty to talk about …

  By the clock up there under the glass roof it was 4:15 … It was dawning already …

  At the end of the Passage we roused up the caretaker to open the gate. “So you’re taking him away?” he asked my uncle …

  “Yes, he’ll sleep at my place.”

  “Well, I wish you luck. You’ll need it, my dear monsieur. That’s some number you’ve got on your hands …”

  He double-locked the gate behind us. He went back to his shack. You could hear him grumbling in the distance: “Christ! That brat’s got himself into a fine mess!”

  My uncle and I went down the rue des Pyramides … We crossed the Tuileries … When we got to the Pont Royal I was still trembling … The wind from the river wasn’t warm. As we were walking along, Uncle Édouard told me how they’d come for him … It seems to have been Hortense … He was sound asleep … His part of town wasn’t exactly around the corner … It was beyond the Invalides, behind the École Militaire … on the rue de la Convention before you get to the rue de Vaugirard … I was afraid to ask for further details … We walked fast … I couldn’t get warm … My teeth were still chattering …

  “Your father’s better,” he said after a while… “But he’ll surely be in bed for two or three days … He won’t be going to the office. Dr. Capron came …” That’s as much as he told me.

  We took the rue du Bac and then turned right as far as the Champ de Mars … His place was at the end of the world … Finally we get there … There it is! … He shows me his home, a small house in the back of a garden … His pad was on the third floor … I didn’t dare say anything about being tired … but I couldn’t stand on my feet … I hung on to the banister. It was broad daylight by now … Upstairs a terrible wave of nausea came over me! … He took me to the shithouse himself … I threw up a long time … it kept coming… He takes a folding bed out of the closet … He takes a mattress off his bed … He sets me up in another room … He gives me a blanket too … I collapse … He undresses me … I spit up another flood of slime … Finally I fall asleep by fits and starts … A nightmare catches hold of me … I only slept off and on …

  I never really found out how Uncle Édouard managed to make my father lay off … to make him leave me strictly alone … I think he must have given him to understand that his disciplinary routine, his idea of sending me to La Roquette, wasn’t so very bright … That I wouldn’t stay there forever … that maybe I’d escape right away … just to come and rub him out … and that this time I’d really finish the job … Anyway, he managed … He didn’t confide in me … I didn’t ask him to.

  My uncle’s place was nicely situated, it was cheerful, pleasant … It looked out over the gardens of the rue de Vaugirard and the rue Maublanc … There were rows of little copses and kitchen gardens in front and in back … The honeysuckle climbed all around the front windows … Everybody had his little plot between the houses, radishes, lettuces, even tomatoes … and grapevines! All that reminded me of my head of lettuce … It hadn’t brought me much luck. I was terribly weak, like after an illness. But in a way I felt better. I didn’t feel hunted at Uncle Édouard’s place.

  I began to breathe again …

  The decoration in his room consisted of whole series of picture postcards, pinned up fanwise, in frescoes, in garlands … The “Kings of the Steering Wheel,” the “Kings of the Handlebars,” and the “Heroes of Aviation” … He bought them all, a few at a time … His ultimate plan was to have them form a tapestry that would cover the walls completely … It wouldn’t be long now … Paulhan and his little fur cap … Rougier of the lopsided schnozzle … Petit-Breton with the legs of steel and the zebra-stripe jersey … Farman, the bearded … Santos-Dumont, the fearless fetus … Vicomte Lambert, the Eiffel Tower specialist … Latham, the disillusioned … MacNamara, the “black panther” … Sam Langford, all thighs … And a hundred other celebrities … Boxing too of course …*

  It wasn’t a bad life … We managed pretty well … When my uncle came home from his business and all the chasing around connected with his pump, he talked to me about sporting events … He figured all the chances … He knew all the weaknesses, the idiosyncrasies, the tricks of the champions … We ate our meals on the oilcloth, we did the cooking together … We talked things over in every detail, the chances of all the favorites …

  On Sunday we were full of beans … By ten o’clock in the morning we were in the big Gallery of Machines … it was a fantastic sight … We’d get there good and early … We’d take our places way up top, on the turn … We were never bored for a second … Uncle Édouard was always on the run, from one end of the week to the other … He never stopped going … His pump still wasn’t exactly the way he wanted it … He was having a lot of trouble with patents … He didn’t quite see what the difficulty was … It mostly had something to do with America … But whether he was in a good or a bad humor he never made speeches … He never moralized … That’s what I liked best about him … Meanwhile he put me up. I lived in his second room. My fate was in suspense. My father never wanted to see me again … He was still gassing as usual … He’d have liked me to start my military service … But I wasn’t old enough … I only heard about all this bit by bit … My uncle didn’t like to talk about it … He preferred to talk about sports, his pump, boxing, gadgets … anything … Touchy subjects gave him a pain … me too …

  Even so, he was a little more talkative on the subject of my mother … He brought me news … She couldn’t move around at all anymore … I wasn’t very eager to see her … What was the use? … She always said the same thing … Anyway, the time passed … A week, two weeks, three … This couldn’t go on forever … I couldn’t dig in here for good … My uncle was OK but that was just the trouble … And how was I going to live? … At his expense? … That was no good … I dropped a little suggestion … “We’ll see about it later on.” he said … there was no hurry … he was attending to it …

  He taught me how to shave … He had a special contraption, tricky and modern … you could put it together in all directions and even backwards … Except it was so complicated it took an engineer to change the blade … This delicate little razor was another nest of patents, he explained to me, about twenty in all.

  It was I who set the table and did the shopping … I kept on like that, waiting and doing nothing, for almost a month and a half … lounging around like a woman … That had never happened to me before … I did the dishes too. We didn’t bother with too much cleaning … Then I went roaming around wherever I pleased … No kidding! … That was something … I had no fixed destination … I just wandered … Every day Uncle Édouard said the same thing before I went out: “Go take a walk. Go ahead, Ferdinand! Just follow your nose … Don’t worry about a thing … Go wherever you like … If you’ve got some special place, that’s the place to go. Sure. As far as the Luxembourg if you feel like it … Ah! If I only weren’t so busy … I’d go and watch them playing tennis … I’m crazy about tennis …
Get a little sunshine … You never look at anything, you’re like your father …” He’d stop for a minute, he’d stand still, thinking. Finally he’d add: “And then you’ll come home, but don’t hurry … I’ll be a little later than usual tonight …” And he’d give me a little extra dough, a franc and a half, two francs … “Take in a movie … if you’re up on the Boulevards … You seem to like stories …”

  Seeing him so generous … with me on his hands, I began to feel crummy … But I didn’t dare to argue. I was afraid he’d take offense … After the latest ruckus I was always on the lookout for consequences … So I thought I’d wait a while for things to straighten themselves out … To spare expense I washed my own socks while he was out … The rooms in his place weren’t strung in a row, but pretty far apart. The third, next to the stairs, was weird, it was like a small drawing room … But with hardly anything in it … a table in the middle, two chairs, and a single picture on the wall … an enormous reproduction of Millet’s Angelus … I never saw such a wide picture … it took up the whole panel … ‘“Isn’t it beautiful? What do you say, Ferdinand?” Uncle Édouard asked every time we passed in front of it on our way to the kitchen. Sometimes we stopped a moment to contemplate it in silence … We didn’t talk in front of the Angelus … This wasn’t any “Kings of the Handlebars” … It wasn’t made to be gassed about!

  I think my uncle had an idea it would do me a lot of good to look at a fine picture like that … that it was a kind of treatment for a rotten character like mine … that maybe it would soften me up … But he never made an issue of it … He understood these sensitive things perfectly … He didn’t talk about them, that’s all … Uncle Édouard wasn’t only good at machinery … That would be the wrong idea … He was very sensitive, there’s no denying it … Actually that was what made me feel so uncomfortable … It made me feel lousy to be sitting there like a sap, piling his groceries into my belly … I was a skunk and I had my nerve with me … Hell! … Enough was enough …