The Pisstown Chaos

by David Ohle

  Yockey was interviewed the day he turned twelve. He was ensconced in his little Canal-side shanty on Coggshell Avenue, really nothing more than a lean-to made of cratewood, but spacious and weather-tight.

  He said "What is a flag, after all? Is it not something like a curtain? On one side of it stand the wealthy and privileged, on the other the rest of us. I have a pile of flags outside the back door. I burn them in my stove when fallwood is scarce. "Here he went out and came back with an armload of flags. "They have so many pigments, " he said, "the flames dance colorfully behind the mica windows of the fire door, entrancing me of a winter's night. You might say I am warmed by the heat of national fervor. "

  As the interview progressed, Yockey drank Jake, smoked an urpflanz pipe and fed flag afar flag to the fire. When pressed for details of future plans for his party, he said, "In the next election the Reverend will run and win on a simple idea, that stinkers must be isolated from the rest of us. In a few months we can build ten or twenty camps. Think of it this way-eventually everyone dies, even stinkers, although they take a while longer on average. Hooker says, `Let's put them out of the way once and for all. They can wait in peace and quiet. They can listen to the chirp of sparrows, the croak of frogs, the hum of the bee. Not a worry in the world. '"

  Some of the Reverend's Guards are puzzled over an imp keeping a vigil beside an old black shoe. The imp, apparently an abandoned pet, refuses to go farther than fifteen feet from the well-worn size twelve even to eat, a Guard said yesterday, who first noticed the loyal watchkeeping last week. By day the critter stays close to the shoe, now invaded by mold and beetles, along a wooded section of the Canal. At night it curls next to the shoe and goes to sleep whining. "The only time it gets upset is if someone picks up the shoe, " one Guard said.

  It comes to me from good authority that property on Square Island is being appropriated by the Administration. Why? Well, the Reverend wants to sink a huge tooth gold mine there. It seems preliminary tests have indicated a massive concentration of stinker remains about sixty feet down. It's hard to differ with the Reverend's view when you consider that he has sole ownership of the only steam shovel on the Island and the only mules to move it.

  Once mules were a common sight on any street in Pisstown, until the first great Chaos, when they were slaughtered and canned to feed a meat-starved populace. The cans were labeled "Ideal Food For You, " the inference being that you were able to consume this meat with no injurious effects. Historical accounts, however, tell us differently. The meat smelled putrid and was often wormy.

  Roe's shifting orders directed him to travel to a specified address in central Bum Bay, where he would mate with someone by the name of Daisy Doolittle. When he stepped off the pedal tram, a bank of low thunderheads filtered the fading sunlight in such a way that its rays presented a stunning system of converging bars of shadow against the eastern sky. In the wavering light, he was having trouble reading street signs.

  A friendly American who saw him looking around in every direction stopped to help. "Let me guess, you've been shifted here to mate with Daisy Doolittle. You want to know where she is and where the line is forming, don't you?"

  "I have her address."

  "My name's Frank Johnson. I know where she is. We all know. You play the saw, I see. That's got entertainment value. Makes you worth something."

  "I'm Roe Balls. Grandmother says I'm a prodigy. Grandfather says I'm a savant." After a deep cough, he had a swallow of the sour-tasting cough medicine Ophelia had concocted. "This is my first shift and my first mating. I'm anxious."

  "Daisy's a hard one to mate with. They say there's only one male out here with the key that'll unlock her, if you get my meaning. No other one will fit right. She'll kick you six feet in the air. She's strong as a mule."

  "How do I get to this address?"

  "Come with me. It's the old Radiola Theater, over in the Heritage Area. People get side-shifted there, like me, like you. Some bug got in the system. Everybody thinks they're here to mate with the Doolittle girl. Ha. We're here to sit around in a broken-down old movie house and wait for the next shift."

  "How long?"

  "Nobody knows. Whenever the Reverend declares another round of shifting."

  Roe followed the fast-paced American, always a few strides behind, until they came to the unlighted dark side. In windows gel cans burned dimly. Street lamps flickered. "From here on," the American said, "power comes and goes unpredictably. This part of town awaits the wrecking ball. As far as Hooker is concerned, it's already a pile of rubble. Whatever works, whatever runs, it's thanks to us, not the Reverend."

  When Roe and the American arrived tired and sweaty at the Radiola, other side-shifted settlers waited in line at a glass-enclosed ticket window. The power had come on in the neighborhood and the theater was brightly lit. Above them, a marquee's sagging letters read "Miracle in the Grotto."

  "They check new people in here," the American said. "This place used to be a school. Then it was a movie house. Now it's a waiting area. Get in line. I'll meet you at the candy counter."

  "Thank you for all the help. I would have been lost."

  "No problem. I'm a Johnson. We help out."

  Roe reached into his bag. "Let me give you a few bucks."

  "We don't expect anything in return, either. See you at the candy counter."

  To amuse himself as the line slowly edged forward, Roe took out his saw and prepared to play. Normally, when he played, he sat. This time there was no place to sit, so he stood. With the saw's teeth facing away, he lodged the rag-wrapped handle against his shoulder, placing his left thumb on the blunt tip of the blade and his left fingers on the other side. He pressed down to form a slight "S" curve in the metal and began stroking with his bow. After three strokes, the saw began to sing. The men in line were livened and entranced. "I never heard a saw played like that," one of them said. "That's far above an octave and a half." Another balled up a buck note and threw it at Roe's feet. Quickly other notes were tossed his way and applause erupted. "You should put out a hat. You could make a living," someone shouted. "Can you play `Red River Valley'?"

  Roe played that song, one tone flowing smoothly into the next as he bent the blade back and forth, then "Moonlight on the Wabash" and "My Old Kentucky Home." His bouncing foot produced a vibrato.

  He continued playing as the line shortened until he reached the window, when an official inside, raising one eyebrow, spoke through a perforated metal plate in the ticket-booth glass. "Let's see those shifting orders."

  Roe produced the form from his upper pocket and slid it through a portal in the glass.

  "Balls. That name strikes a bell. Why?"

  "I don't know," Roe said.

  "I know. Your grandfather was the late Jacob Balls. I'm surprised his widow didn't use her civic influence to get you out of the shifting process."

  "She's at Permanganate Island. Out of touch."

  "That's a shame. Half the world is going there." The official went over the papers again. "And you were shifted here to mate with the Doolittle girl, like most of these other poor suckers? I hate to tell you, but there's a long line ahead of you."

  "I don't understand."

  "We're sorry about the snafu, but what the heck, complex systems go haywire. It's all part of Hooker's grand scheme, which allows plenty of room for failure along the way. Go inside, find yourself a seat, start the waiting process."

  Shortly after, Roe came to the candy counter and waited for the American. Beneath the cracked glass case, moths flew about over candy bars ridden with white maggots. At the end of the counter a popcorn machine still held the last batch of corn popped, now brown and moldy and seething with ants.

  The American showed up, yawning. "I fell asleep. I hope you didn't wait long. Come on, I saved you a seat." Roe followed him into the seating area. Of the hundred or so seats, more than ninety were occupied. "If you don't get a seat you could be standing for a long, long time." They found the seats and settled into
them. "These are good ones. The springs haven't popped through."

  "What do we do now, Frank?" Roe asked.

  The American chuckled. "Nothing. We sit here and wait. The power's on. That's good. When that happens they show a movie. Otherwise we sit in the dark or light candles if you can find one. Matches are scarce, too."

  "I'm hungry," Roe complained.

  "Don't worry. They'll pass out some starch bars and some willy. Here they come now."

  Barefoot stinkers in ushers' uniforms pushed wheelbarrows up the aisles, distributing starch bars, low-grade willy, and bottles of Jake. The hand-size starch bars were wrapped in wax-soaked paper and could be eaten in two or three bites. The willy was in pellet form, the Jake diluted, its normal yellow hue almost absent.

  Roe gobbled down his starch bar and followed it with a slosh of Jake and the lump of willy. "Not so bad," he said.

  "You should have saved your willy for later," the American advised. "You'd sleep better."

  The shabby curtains opened and the movie began. The American sighed, "I've seen this a thousand times."

  The film began with a scene in which Hooker, dressed in winter clothes, approaches the dark entrance of The Grotto, a restaurant conducting business inside a shallow cave. The host, a stinker, is there to greet him: "Honored sir, Pliny referred to this grotto as the breathing place of Pluto, where the fiends of the infernal regions found ventilation and fresh air when Hades became too hot for comfort. Therefore, you might imagine the air to be naturally cool. That is not true. You see, a warm carbonic gas percolates through the floor. The place is uncomfortably warm to anyone who is not a fiend. But I must caution you, the gas can be insidious if you breathe it for long. That's why we limit diners to twenty-five minutes, even very important people, and why we close for the summer."

  The Reverend places his hand on top of the host's head. "Loosen up, you stiff!" In close-up, viewers see the stinker's gray cheeks redden, his eyes light up, his dry, spongy lips fill with moisture.

  The Radiola's power failed, the film stopped, and the theater darkened.

  Beset suddenly with a fit of coughing, the American lit a candle, saying it was his last. When he caught his breath he said, "The air in here is bad for the lungs. Falling plaster dust is what it is."

  Roe gave his bottle of cough syrup to the American, who held it well above his open mouth and poured in a dram or two. "Mmmmmmm. That's righteous good."

  A few industrious stinkers moved up and down the aisles selling hand-made tallow candles and matches whose tips were dipped in poor quality sulfur and excessive amounts of phosphorous. Small flaming chunks often flew from the tips when they were struck, sometimes setting the user's clothing on fire or landing in an eye. "Candles here. Candles and matches. What'll you give me?"

  Gel cans were lit and placed along the edge of the stage. An usher spoke through a bullhorn. "All right, everyone. Keep the chit-chat to a minimum. If any of you want to come down and entertain, please do. Curfew in one hour."

  A stinker sitting behind Roe thumped him on the head and said, "Go down on that stage and play your saw. I heard you out there. You're terrific. Put out a hat. You'll make a killing."

  Roe went to the stage and played on for more than an hour. His prodigious skills kept listeners attentive and quiet. He took modest bows between pieces and the flicker of the gel cans lent the evening a small degree of graciousness. Bucks were balled up and thrown to the stage, at which point a welldressed gentleman in a silk suit and impskin boots made an appearance onstage.

  "Jerry Grandee. Let me manage you, sonny boy. You'll make me rich. I'll make you happy. You play the saw like an angel. Can you dance?"

  "No."

  "I'm always on the lookout for young men with your talents. Can you sing?"

  "Only the Edelweiss song. My sister taught it to me."

  "Not such a problem. I'm Ray. Ray Harp."

  "Didn't you say you were Jerry ... ?"

  "Did I say I was Jerry, Jerry Grandee?"

  "You did."

  "Sorry. A little white lie. It's nothing. My tongue slipped. Look, the truth is, I run a private club called The Bones Jangle. Very hush-hush. It's in the basement. I book acts. We serve a limited clientele, you understand. Everything's extremely sub rosa. Come on down. I'll show you the place. We'll talk turkey."

  "I want to bring my friend, Frank."

  "Can't do that. I know Frank. He's a reprobate, a petty thief, and a congenital liar. Not allowed in the club."

  "That's a shame."

  Down a steep set of stairs, the Bones Jangle door stood slightly ajar and the sweet odor of burning urpflanz drifted out. Roe heard excited conversation, annoyingly loud once he was inside. At the far end of a long, narrow space, on a raised platform, a human skeleton hung on a stand. Bathed in a dim red light from a spot above and powered by some unseen mechanism, it danced a jig. The syncopated jangle of its bones provided lively ambient sound. Down the center of the space was a series of eight raised platforms with round tables atop them, each with four sets of pedals. New arrivals sat drinking Jake as they pedaled and chatted.

  Grandee sat Roe down at the table nearest the skeleton. "Here's a good spot. The show will start in a few minutes." He flagged down a server. "Two Jakes for me and my client here."

  Roe strapped his feet to the pedals.

  "It keeps the power on," Grandee said, "for the stage lights, for Mr. Bones Jangle over there, for the icebox."

  "You want me to play my saw?"

  "I do, but not tonight. The Doolittle girl's on for tonight. She's in big demand, a showpiece. It was a tough negotiation with her family, but she's mine now. They'll wheel her out in a minute."

  "That's what my shifting order said. That I was going to try to mate with Daisy Doolittle."

  "That's what they told all those dopes upstairs. But here's a little secret between you and me. There's very few sets of gonads that'll work with what she's got. One could be yours. If it is, you'll be upshifted for certain. You want to give it a try sometime? I'll put you on the list."

  "I've never mated before."

  "Don't worry. She'll tell you what to do when the time comes. Go, get in line."

  A server brought the Jake as a queue of young male shiftees formed at the edge of the platform.

  Grandee finished off his Jake in two swift gulps as the nude Doolittle girl was lifted to the platform and placed on a pandiculating appliance. "The show's about to start. Pedal harder. Keep the lights bright."

  At that moment, a squad of Guards entered The Bones Jangle and put a halt to everything. "Stop pedaling and remain in your seats!" The clatter of the pedal chains diminished, Mr. Bones Jangle ceased his dance and the room darkened. One of the Guards removed his tunic and covered the Doolittle girl with it. "We'll be taking names now," he said. "You'll all be going to work on the Reverend's imp farm for a while."

  "Just when I had a going thing happening here," Grandee sighed.

  "I do like the out-of-doors," Roe said.

  Six.

  Lift is cheap in Pisstown' Heritage Area, when a secondstage stinker named Hot Rod Lush packs a triple threat. It is a place where kinsmen murder kinsmen, robbers murder merchants, wives murder husbands, husbands slay wives, cousins murder cousins, sons kill fathers, sweethearts erase sweethearts and friends, friends. The great variety of homicides in that part of the city has provoked the Reverend and his Guards, but not soon enough to stop Hot Rod Lush. He and his brother, Calvin Lush, argued over their younger brother being arrested for unlawful sexual congress with a young male stinker. One said he believed he was guilty the other said no. This produced a snappy death in blazing gunsmoke from an antique .38 caliber pistol Boom! Hot Rod in his furj, had gone to Calvins Q ped and gotten the weapon. He'd swept it in front of Calvin's face and said, "What the hell did you say? I'll mow you down, " and poured a bullet into Calvin's head Another life was gone from the Heritage Area, another sad funeral arranged

  Muffy Brown, a twenty-three year
old stinker, has spent the last nine years blowing herself up. In that time she has used more than a van load of dynamite to send herself whirling through over eight hundred explosions Muffy is the feature attraction of the Reverend Hookers Stunt Shows which travels city to city and town to town. Twice each performing 4 she puts what's left of her life on the line with nine sticks of dynamite. She sits in yoga fashion, her head tucked between her legs, in the center of a three-sided tin-covered capsule. The countdown begins. At zero, she lights the main fist with a match. Then, a terrific explosion sends her flying out of the capsule. For fifteen minutes following the explosion, Muffy writhes on the ground not knowing where she is. The explosion has knocked the air out of her lungs and like a drowning person, she must be forced to breathe again. Three men are assigned to see that she is revived.

  A man was saved from a chilly drowning yesterday by the Reverend's brother, Wallace `Buddy"Hooker, who has volunteered for duty with the life-saving crew organized by the Health Department at the Disinfecting Station at 10 and Flum. As chief frogman of the crew Buddy was there on the dock about six o'clock in his rubber frog feet and bathing suit, when he saw a man floating down the Canal like a log and calling for help. Buddy dove into the disinfected downstream water and swam out to the man, who threw his arms around Buddy's neck and gave him a hard battle. The man, attempting to escape from Permanganate Island had floated across the Straits, a distance of sixty miles, then swam into the mouth of the backward flowing National Canal another five miles before being snatched out of the rushing current and swiftly returned to the Purple Isle.