"How come he done that?" I axed Grurck, who had learnt to speak some English wile he was livin with Major Fritch.
"Him want to know if ape is boy or girl," Grurck say.
I figger there must be a nicer way to find that out, but I ain't sayin nothin.
Then the king, he come up to me an start talkin some of that gibberish—pygmalion, or whatever it is—an I'm preparing to get kicked in the balls too, but Grurck say, "Him want to know why you livin with them awful cannibals."
"Tell him it weren't exactly our idea," Major Fritch pipe up an say.
"I got a idea," I says. "Tell him we is American musicians."
Grurck say this to the king an he be peerin at us real hard, an then he axe Grurck somethin.
"What's he say?" Major Fritch want to know.
"Him axe what the ape plays," say Grurck.
"Tell him the ape plays the spears," I say, an Grurck do that, an then the king of the pygmies announce he want to hear us perform.
I get out my harmonica an start playin a little tune—"De Camptown Races." King of the pygmies listen for a minute, then he start clappin his hans an doin what look to be a clog dance.
After I'm finished, he say he wants to know what Major Fritch an Grurck plays, an I tell Grurck to say Major Fritch plays the knives an that Grurck don't play nothin—he is the manager.
King of the pygmies look sort of puzzled an say he ain't never heard of anybody playin knives or spears before, but he tell his men to give Sue some spears an Major Fritch some knives an let's see what sort of music we come up with.
Soon as we get the spears an knives, I say, "Okay—now!" an ole Sue conk the king of the pygmies over the head with his spear an Major Fritch threatened a couple of pygmies with her knives an we run off into the jungle with the pygmies in hot pursuit.
* * *
The pygmies be thowin all sorts of rocks an shit at us from behin, an shootin they bows an arrows an darts from blowguns an such. Suddenly we come out on the bank of a river an ain't no place to go, an the pygmies are catchin up fast. We is bout to jump into the river an swim for it, when suddenly from the opposite side of the river a rifle shot ring out.
The pygmies are right on top of us, but another rifle shot ring out an they turn tail an run back into the jungle. We be lookin across the river an lo an behole on the other bank they is a couple of fellers wearin bush jackets an them white pith helmets like you used to see in Ramar of the Jungle. They step into a canoe an be paddlin towards us, an as they get closer, I seen one of them is got NASA stamped on his pith helmet. We is finally rescued.
When the canoe reach our shore, the guy with NASA stamped on his helmet get out an come up to us. He go right up to ole Sue an stick out his han an say, "Mister Gump, I presume?"
"Where the fuck has you assholes been?" hollared Major Fritch. "We been stranded in the jungle nearly four goddamn years!"
"Sorry bout that, ma'am," the feller say, "but we has got our priorities, too, you know."
Anyway, we is at last saved from a fate worse than death, an they loaded us up in the canoe an started paddlin us downriver. One of the fellers say, "Well folks, civilization is just aroun the corner. I reckon you'll all be able to sell your stories to a magazine an make a fortune."
"Stop the canoe!" Major Fritch suddenly call out.
The fellers look at one another, but they paddle the canoe over to the bank.
"I have made a decision," Major Fritch say. "For the first time in my life, I have found a man that truly understands me, an I am not going to let him go. For nearly four years, Grurck an I have lived happily in this land, an I have decided to stay here with him. We will go off in the jungle an make a new life for ourselfs, an raise a family an live happily ever after."
"But this man is a cannibal," one of the fellers say.
"Eat your heart out, buster," says Major Fritch, an she an Grurck get out of the canoe an start back into the jungle again, han in han. Jus before they disappeared, Major Fritch turn aroun an give Sue an me a little wave, an then off they go.
I looked back to the end of the canoe, an ole Sue is settin there twistin his fingers.
"Wait a minute," I says to the fellers. I go back an set down on the seat nex to Sue an say, "What you thinkin bout?"
Sue ain't sayin nothin, but they is a little bitty tear in his eye, an I knowed then what was bout to happen. He grapped me aroun the shoulders in a big hug, an then leaped out of the boat an ran up a tree on the shore. Last we seen of him, he is swingin away thru the jungle on a vine.
The feller from NASA be shakin his head. "Well, what about you, numbnuts? You gonna follow your friends there into Bonzoland?"
I looked after them for a minute, then I said, "Uh, uh," an set back down in the canoe. Wile they was paddlin us away, don't you believe I didn't think bout it for a moment. But I jus couldn't do it. I reckon I got other weenies to roast.
* * *
They flown me back to America an tole me on the way how there was to be a big welcome home reception for me, but seems like I have heard that before.
Sure enough tho, soon as we landed in Washington bout a million people was on han, cheerin an clappin an actin like they is glad to see me. They drove me into town in the back seat of a big ole black car an said they was takin me to the White House to see the President. Yep, I been there before too.
Well, when we get to the White House, I'm expectin to see the same ole President what fed me breakfast an let me watch "The Beverly Hillbillies," but they is got a new President now—feller with his hair all slicked back, puffy little cheeks an a nose look like Pinocchio's.
"Tell me now," this President say, "did you have an exciting trip?"
A feller in a suit standin next to the President lean over an whisper somethin to him, an suddenly the President say, "Oh, ah, accually what I meant was, how great it is that you have escaped from your ordeal in the jungle."
The feller in the suit whisper somethin else to the President, an he say to me, "Er, now what about your companion?"
"Sue?" I say.
"Was that her name?" Now he be lookin at a little card in his han. "Says here it was a Major Janet Fritch, and that even as you were being rescued she was dragged off into the jungle by a cannibal."
"Where it say that?" I axed.
"Right here," the President say.
"That's not so," I says.
"Are you suggesting I am a liar?" say the President.
"I'm jus sayin it ain't so," I says.
"Now look here," say the President, "I am your commander in chief. I am not a crook. I do not lie!"
"I am very sorry," I says, "but it ain't the truth bout Major Fritch. You jus take that off a card, but—"
"Tape!" the President shout.
"Huh?" I says.
"No, no," says the feller in the suit. "He said 'take'—not 'tape'—Mister President."
"TAPE!" scream the President. "I told you never to mention that word in my presence again! You are all a bunch of disloyal Communist swines." The President be poundin hissef on the knee with his fist.
"None of you understand. I don't know anything bout anything! I never heard of anything! And if I did, I either forgot it, or it is top secret!"
"But Mister President," say the feller in the suit, "he didn't say it. He only said—"
"Now you are calling me a liar!" he say. "You're fired!"
"But you can't fire me," the feller say. "I am the Vice President."
"Well, pardon me for saying so," says the President, "but you are never going to make President if you go aroun calling your commander in chief a liar."
"No, I guess you're right," say the Vice President. "I beg your pardon."
"No, I beg yours," the President say.
"Whatever," say the Vice President, kinda fiddlin with hissef. "If you will all excuse me now, I have to go pee."
"That's the first sensible idea I have heard all day," say the President. Then he turn to me an axe, "Say, aren't you the sa
me fellow that played ping-pong and saved the life of old Chairman Mao?"
I says, "Yup," an the President say, "Well what did you want to do a thing like that for?"
An I says, "Cause he was drownin," an the President say, "You should have held him under, instead of saving him. Anyway, it's history now, because the son of a bitch died while you were away in the jungle."
"You got a tv set?" I axed.
The President look at me kind of funny. "Yeah, I have one, but I don't watch it much these days. Too much bad news."
"You ever watch 'The Beverly Hillbillies'?" I say.
"It's not on yet," he say.
"What is?" I axed.
" 'To Tell the Truth'—but you don't want to look at that—it's a bunch of shit." Then he say, "Look here, I have a meeting to go to, why don't I walk you to the door?" When we get outside on the porch, an the President say in a very low voice, "Listen, you want to buy a watch?"
I say, "Huh?" an he step over close to me an shove up the sleeve on his suit an lo an behole he must of had twenty or thirty wristwatches aroun his arm.
"I ain't got no money," I says.
The President, he roll down his sleeve an pat me on the back. "Well, you come back when you do and we'll work something out, okay?"
He shook my han an a bunch of photographers come up an start takin our picher an then I'm gone. But I'll say this, that President seem like a nice feller after all.
* * *
Anyhow, I'm wonderin what they gonna do with me now, but I don't have to wonder long.
It took bout a day or so for things to quiet down, an they had put me up in a hotel, but then a couple of fellers come in one afternoon an say, "Listen here, Gump, the free ride's over. The government ain't payin for none of this anymore—you're on your own now."
"Well, okay," I say, "but how bout givin me a little travelin money to get home on. I'm kinda light right now."
"Forget it, Gump," they say. "You is lucky not to be in jail for conkin the Clerk of the Senate on the head with that medal. We done you a favor to get you off that rap—but we is washin our hans of your ass as of right now."
So I had to leave the hotel. Since I ain't got no things to pack, it wadn't hard, an I just went out on the street. I walked a wile, down past the White House where the President live, an to my suprise they is a whole bunch of people out front got on rubber masks of the President's face an they is carryin some kind of signs. I figger he must be pleased to be so popular with everbody.
17
EVEN THO THEY SAID THEY WOULDN'T GIVE ME NO MONEY, one of the fellers did loan me a dollar before I lef the hotel. First chance I got, I phoned home to the po house where my mama was stayin to let her know I'm okay. But one of them nuns says, "We ain't got no Mrs. Gump here no longer."
When I axed where she was, the nun say, "Dunno—she done run off with some protestant." I thanked her an hanged up the phone. In a way, I'm sort of relieved. At least mama done run off with somebody, an ain't in the po house no more. I figger I got to find her, but to tell the truth, I ain't in no big hurry, cause sure as it's gonna rain, she'll be bawlin an hollerin an fussin at me on account of I lef home.
It did rain. Rained cats an dogs an I foun me a awnin to stand under till some guy come out an run me off. I was soakin wet an cold an walkin past some government buildin in Washington when I seen a big ole plastic garbage bag settin in the middle of the sidewalk. Just as I get close to it, the bag commenced to move a little bit, like there is somethin in there!
I stopped an went up to the bag an nudged it a little with my toe. Suddenly the bag jump bout four feet back an a voice come out from under it, say, "Git the fuck away from me!"
"Who is that in there?" I axed, an the voice say back, "This is my grate—you go find your own."
"What you talkin bout?" I say.
"My grate," the voice say. "Git off my grate!"
"What grate?" I axed.
All of a sudden the bag lift up a little an a feller's head peek out, squintin up at me like I'm some kinda idiot.
"You new in town or somethin?" the feller says.
"Sort of," I answered. "I'm jus tryin to get outta the rain."
The feller under the bag is pretty sorry-lookin, half bald-headed, ain't shaved in months, eyes all red an bloodshot an most of his teeth gone.
"Well," he say, "in that case I reckon it okay for a little wile—here." He reach up an han me another garbage bag, all folded up.
"What I'm sposed to do with this?" I axed.
"Open it up an git under it, you damn fool—you said you wanted to git outta the rain." An then he pull his bag back down over hissef.
Well, I did what he said, an to tell you the truth, it wadn't so bad, really. They was some hot air comin up outta the grate an it make the bag all warm an cozy inside an kep off the rain. We be squattin side-by-side on the grate with the bags over us an after a wile the feller says over to me, "What's your name anyway?"
"Forrest," I says.
"Yeah? I knew a guy named Forrest once. Longtime ago."
"What's your name?" I axed.
"Dan," he say.
"Dan? Dan?—hey, wait a minute," I says. I thowed off my garbage bag an went an lifted up the bag off the feller an it was him! Ain't got no legs, an he is settin on a little wood cart with roller-skate wheels on the bottom. Must of aged twenty years, an I could hardly recognize him. But it was him. It was ole Lieutenant Dan!
* * *
After he had got out of the Army hospital, Dan went back to Connecticut to try to get back his ole job teachin history. But they wadn't no history job available, so they made him teach math. He hated math, an besides, the math class was on the secont floor of the school an he had a hell of a time makin it up the stairs with no legs an all. Also, his wife done run off with a tv producer that lived in New Yawk an she sued him for divorce on grounds of "incompatibility."
He took to drinkin an lost his job an jus didn't do nothin for a wile. Thieves robbed his house of everthin he had an the artificial legs they had give him at the VA hospital were the wrong size. After a few years, he said, he jus "give up," an took to livin like a bum. There's a little money ever month from his disability pension, but most of the time he jus give it away to the other bums.
"I dunno, Forrest," he say, "I guess I'm jus waitin to die or somethin."
Dan han me a few bucks an say to go aroun the corner an git us a couple of bottles of Red Dagger wine. I jus got one bottle tho, an used the money for mine to git one of them ready-made sambwiches, cause I ain't had nothin to eat all day.
"Well, old pal," Dan say after he has polished off half his wine, "tell me what you been doin since I saw you last."
So I did. I tole him about goin to China an playin ping-pong, an findin Jenny Curran again, an playin in The Cracked Eggs band an the peace demonstration where I thowed my medal away an got put in jail.
"Yeah, I remember that one all right. I think I was still here in the hospital. I thought bout going down there mysef, but I guess I wouldn't have thowed my medals away. Look here," he say. He unbutton his jacket an inside, on his shirt, is all his medals—Purple Heart, Silver Star—must of been ten or twelve of them.
"They remind me of somethin," he said. "I'm not quite sure what—the war, of course, but that's jus a part of it. I have suffered a loss, Forrest, far greater than my legs. It's my spirit, my soul, if you will. There is only a blank there now—medals where my soul used to be."
"But what about the 'natural laws' that's in charge of everthin?" I axe him. "What about the 'scheme of things' that we has all got to fit ourself into?"
"Fuck all that," he say. "It was just a bunch of philosophic bullshit."
"But ever since you tole it to me, that's what I been goin by. I been lettin the 'tide' carry me an tryin to do my best. Do the right thing."
"Well, maybe it works for you, Forrest. I thought it was working for me too—but look at me. Just look at me," he say. "What good am I? I'm a goddamn legless freak.
A bum. A drunkard. A thirty-five-year-old vagrant."
"It could be worse," I says.
"Oh yeah? How?" he say, an I reckon he got me there, so I finished tellin him bout mysef—gettin thowed in the loony bin an then bein shot up in the rocket an landin down with the cannibals an bout ole Sue an Major Fritch an the pygmies.
"Well my God, Forrest my boy, you sure as hell have had some adventures," Dan say. "So how come you are sittin here with me on the grates under a garbage bag?"
"I dunno," I says, "but I ain't plannin to stay here long."
"What you got in mind then?"
"Soon as this rain stops," I say, "I'm gonna get off my big fat butt an go lookin for Jenny Curran."
"Where is she?"
"Dunno that either," I says, "but I'll find out."
"Sounds like you might need some help," he say.
I look over at Dan an his eyes is gleamin from behin his beard. Somethin is tellin me he is the one needs some hep, but that's okay with me.
* * *
Ole Dan an me, we went to a mission flophouse that night on account of it didn't stop rainin, an Dan, he paid them fifty cents apiece for our suppers an a quarter for our beds. You could of got supper free for settin an listenin to a sermon or somesuch, but Dan say he'd sleep out in the rain afore wastin our precious time hearin a Bible-thumper give us his view of the world.
Next mornin Dan loaned me a dollar an I foun a pay phone an called up to Boston to ole Mose, that used to be the drummer for The Cracked Eggs. Sure enough, he still there in his place, an is damn suprised to hear from me.
"Forrest—I don't believe it!" Mose say. "We had given your ass up for lost!"
The Cracked Eggs, he says, have broken up. All the money that Mister Feeblestein have promised them is eaten up by expenses or somethin, an after the secont record they didn't get no more contracts. Mose say people is listenin to a new kind of music now—Rollin Stoned's or the Iggles or somethin—an most of the fellers in The Cracked Eggs is gone someplace an foun real jobs.
Jenny, Mose say, is not been heard of in a long wile. After she had gone down to Washington for the peace demonstration where I was arrested, she went back with The Cracked Eggs for a few months, but Mose say somethin in her jus wadn't the same. One time he say, she broke up cryin on the stage an they had to play a instrumental to get thru the set. Then she started drinkin vodka an showin up late for performances an they was bout to speak to her bout it when she jus done up an quit.
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