J R

by William Gaddis

  ——What have you done for your mouth lately?

  —Wha . . . he sat up abruptly, brought a hand up.

  ——continental mouthwash with the djstinc . . .

  —Get that God damned thing . . . and he was up, crested the plateau of Musical Couriers and seized the mop handle, put his ear to the crevice and pounded the mop handle up and down.

  ——really time to do something nice for your mouth . . .

  —Do something nice for your mouth God damn you, you . . .

  ——like sending your mouth on a vacation . . .

  —Send your mouth on a vacation you son of a bitch there!

  ——actually helps shrink painful hemorrhoidal . . .

  —Bastard!

  ——prompt temporary relief by reducing painful swelling . . .

  —Oh you bastard you bastard! he plunged the mop handle, pounded it up and down.

  ——what America is today, so look for volume one of this exciting new children’s encyclopedia at your neighborhood supermar . . .

  —God damn you Christ! how do people . . . he was on all fours up there back against the ceiling—have one thought one God damned thought one God damned civilized thought in this whole God damned get that God damned thing once for all God damn it . . .! he flung the mop handle pulled aside 1899’s bound Musical Couriers, Trade Extra 1902, 1911, 1909—no place to put the God damned things . . . 1903, 1908—must weigh twenty pounds . . .

  ——product. A service. A promise of human bet . . .

  —Little bastard you . . . he heaved at the volumes, dragged up 24–10 Pad Pkgs, 2 Dozen 57 The World’s Largest Selling Ketchup, Tonic Water Twist Cap—hell that ironing board get down there . . . he yanked at 48 No 1 Cans Beef Gravy and books slithered across the heap—can’t do it God damn it no place to put them . . .

  ——join the biggest savings bank fam . . .

  —God damned ironing board . . . he pulled, yanked, finally ripped at the next one sending papers streaming down—good, Christ . . . and he followed, holding together the torn sides of Tootsie Roll 12 Count, moving more slowly with each sheet after pasted sheet of paper he picked up—God hundreds of them . . . finally coming to rest on H-O with the torn carton drawn close—started with eighteen seventy-six have to get them all back in, Christ how did I, look at that what did I think I was doing!

  The long hand pressed the short ahead till only the sweep of the second hand crossed the arc up behind him, hunched there on H-O turning up page after page—ANI, LEM abbreviated all these God damned references can’t remember what they, go through every book in the place again Christ, how I worked on this . . .

  He turned the pages more slowly, finally hunched toward the sill for the failing light—must have thought I could, like Diderot good God how I ever thought I could do it . . .

  Oh the sill where the clothespin lay, a string had appeared lowered from above bobbing a wad of gum. He stared at it, picked up another page and stared at that—done it then Christ gone ahead and done it then, written it ten years ago with no pressure on me but now . . .?

  He was watching the gum wad bounce off the clothespin when the phone rang—God suppose she . . . He got up slowly, in past 200 2-Ply, hesitated before he reached up—yes hello . . .? He cleared his throat—not here no, oh it’s you Mister Bris . . . not disturbing me no that’s all right, Mister Bast’s still off on some sort of business . . . oh you are? Didn’t realize you and he were business associates Mister Brisboy thought it was more ah . . . no no didn’t mean you didn’t regard him as a dear friend, I . . . just wouldn’t get this upset Mister Brisboy I’m sure he wouldn’t let that happen, now . . . No I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you talked to the president of the company, best thing to . . . here? Sorry I can’t no, I . . . wait no you don’t under . . . Look Mister Brisboy I’d be glad to switch you over if I could but . . . because I don’t know where the hell he is no look I’m just not that familiar with the company’s activit . . . Haven’t seen his statement in the paper about franchising out the entire health plan but you can’t believe everything you read in the . . . Rumors of what . . .? No I heard the stock was sagging a little but . . . well I’m sure it really is a fun company Mister Brisboy what I’ve seen so far it certainly . . . to tell your mother what . . .? Good God wouldn’t want that to happen no, look I’d just . . . listen I’d just wait till Mister Bast gets back and . . . I’m sure he will yes no reason some story about these Indians having a clouded title to this reservation means he’d be . . . I’m sure he’ll bring his Indian costume back yes never mentioned playing dress up but of course Mister Bast seems to have a number of talents I nev . . . he certainly is yes, now . . . No no I wouldn’t do that no, no don’t bother to come up here to wait for him no telling when he . . . No no very land of you but I . . . yes good, auf Wiedersehen that is yes . . .

  The gum wad bounded off the clothespin, drew up, dropped and missed in the near dark, drew up again as he came back to stand at the sill knuckles gone white one hand grinding the other, the gum wad bounded, drew up—like Robert the Bruce, Christ! he pried up the window and his fist shot out, pounded the gum on the clothespin snapped up from sight past the blind and he banged down the window—got to get out of here . . . tripped against Tootsie Rolls 12 Count, suddenly had it papers jammed in held together and up behind Won’t Burn, Smoke or Smell and he was through to the door left tipped on its hinge against a shuffle in the dark hall, a tap.

  —Hello, Mister . . .? and then no sound but the falling waters until the door shuddered in again with his weight in the darkness threading past 200 2-Ply, coming down among the stacks of mail on the armless sofa where a hand hung off extended open toward the sill as though to seize the day, or hold it off, when it appeared.

  There, a pink hair curler dropped, rolled toward the edge and stopped. He came up on one elbow and waited, finally came up all together and drew a hand over the roughage of his chin. The long hand rose from NO DEPOSIT driving the short before it—Christ got to get started got to, to get started . . . he bumped against Won’t Burn, Smoke or Smell, picked up both cups floating teabags on Thomas Register—brought that in last night somewhere just have one to get started . . . and he was back to set a cup of water on Moody’s, tip a bottle over the other. On the sill where the curler lay, string appeared lowered from above bobbing a wad of gum. He stared at it, drank off one cup and then the other, picked up the blue folder and stared at that, patted pockets, rummaged—out and get cigarettes get something to eat come back and get started . . . and he was through to the door left tipped on its hinge against a tap, a pounding, an expletive, finally the thud of bundles against it.

  —Man like what’s all this I mean you can’t get in the door.

  —Like climb over it man and I mean help him, like get his foot wait, like help me get the box through . . . and the shuffle of moccasins, the flap of sandals repeated passing tub and 200 2-Ply—like you bring him up here this morning to practice I mean he doesn’t even bring his insterment . . .

  —Like he’ll hum along then man . . . the mailbag shook over the sofa’s end, the guitar came up.

  —Man like he’s still so spaced out he can’t hum shit . . . she swept the mail from the sofa to join the heap on the floor, dropped a battered paper shopping bag there and opened the box beside it—come on kitty kitty, man like they really shaved his ass I mean where they sewed him up it looks like this fucking football come on kitty kitty kitty . . .

  Plunk.—Like come on man, hum . . . plunka plunka . . .

  —Man look out for your, oh wow did you see him go up those boxes? Move his, I mean that telephone it’s like this burgular alarm move his feet man, like I just come in the door and I mean move him! Hello . . .? He’s not here man, who . . . Like what do I sound like his cat? I mean if you want to leave Mister Bast this message I mean leave it, like I mean who is this . . . Man like don’t give me this family history I mean you’re just some bank, right? So like what do you mean you want more collateral spell it
man . . . So? His stock drops to twelve and an eighth like that’s no skin off your ass, what . . . Like what do you mean the bank’s ass I mean why should he bail you out man, like I mean if you need money so you expect him to bring in like five thousand two hundred and eighty dollars? I mean Bast . . .? Man like wait I mean nobody gives money to banks like I mean you get money from banks because like that’s where all the fucking money is . . . No man look I mean don’t put me on with this eighty percents margin of some falling collateral, like you just said you’re selling his stock if he doesn’t bring you in this five thousand two hundred and eighty dollars man I mean when you open this ice tray you’ve got this real surprise coming . . . No look man I mean look, like you’re this fucking bank, right? So I mean if you’re so hard up for this fucking money go look in your fucking bank vault that’s where . . . oh wow.

  Plunk.—Man like hum . . . plunka plunka . . .

  —Listen man I have to call about this job will you, I mean I don’t believe it. Hello . . .? He’s not here what do you want . . . Look when some chick calls him I . . . so like what’s the matter with this Mister Wiles can’t he dial the . . . hello? Man like I just told your secretary Mister Bast isn’t here what . . . who? What president man, I mean don’t put me . . . what of his company? You mean here in this . . . man like how do I know his position on bellies I mean look Mister Wiles you and him must really be . . . Look man I don’t know about some voting trust taking over like I mean if this commodity exchange has you against the wall and you expect to get this margin money here man? I mean look I just talked to this . . . no I mean just go to the bank like everybody else does man, like I mean they just tried to put me on the same way you are I mean like go look in their fucking bank vault man that’s what banks . . . oh wow. I mean are these people rude, man.

  —Man like hum . . . plunka plunka—hum, man . . .

  —Like where’s that telephone number I have to call man . . . she braced a foot coming down—like I knew I got these pants too tight . . . she reached the sagging denims down from the dishcloth rack, sank to 24-12 Oz Btls Fragile! to tug at a clasp—I mean look at that, like I hardly get them and it rips right out I mean they make everything now like they don’t give a . . . she freed a foot from plaid,—man like I don’t believe this fucking telephone . . . and she was up on a bared knee—hello . . .? Look man who are you calling . . . no like this is his number but he’s not here, what . . . who? What company spokesman look man if . . . no look I mean you said you’re this newspaper what are you asking me for, go look in . . . So they’re setting off these four twenty kilotons to release this natural gas I mean what am I supposed to . . . Man I mean you’re the one who just said they rushed this AEC approval through to beat these envirementalists’ injunction I mean what are you ask . . . No man I mean look, I mean you don’t give news to newspapers you get news out of newspapers like I mean that’s what newspapers are man, like I mean if you’re this newspaper and you want to know if some underground explosion is dangerous I mean go read your fucking newspap . . .

  —What in, what Tom? are you . . .

  —Man like are you kidding? I mean like what’s the difference if the whole fucking state blows up who would even miss it . . .

  —What the hell is this . . . he brought a newspaper bundle to the floor with him getting through, faced the expanse bared of plaid where she’d turned reaching up with the telephone.—God damn it what’s all this doing here.

  —Man like it was there when we came in, I mean . . .

  He got two cartons up balancing a shoebox,—never occurred to you to, wait what do you mean we.

  Plunk.

  —Like just Al and his group man they came up to rehearse . . .

  Plunka plunka plunka plunka

  —Mmmmmmmmmm . . .

  —Good Christ no . . . he came bumping the cartons past tub and 200 2-Ply—what the hell is . . .

  —Man I just told you like when the rest of the group comes . . .

  —Mmm mmm mmm mmm . . .

  Plunkaplunkaplunkaplunka . . .

  —-Jesus Christ listen this can’t, well God damn it! he was down picking up a red mitten, paperclips, marionette in a tangle of strings—when the rest of who comes look God damn it . . .

  —There’s only like two more of them man, they . . .

  He got the broken music box, car without wheels, a three legged sheep—look Al I’m working up here . . . a purple crayon, the Virgin one arm spread in mild surprise at the loss of the other, an arm cocking a bugle—now God damn it can you understand that Al?

  Plunk.—Man like go ahead I mean I’m for everybody doing what they want to do man . . . plunka plunka—I mean that’s how it ought to be everybody doing their own . . .

  —Tell you something Al, if I did what I want to do right now you’d go out of here in a God damned sack. Now get this one up off the . . .

  —Man look I mean he’s having this identity crisis man don’t hassle him . . .

  —Great, all for him doing what he wants to too just tell him to go have it someplace wait, here God damn it give me that . . .

  —Man like let him keep it what is it, I mean . . .

  —It’s a Wide Man what the hell does it look damn it let go of it! he twisted a turbaned figure clutching a casket from the desperate grasp—bring them up Christmas Eve I’ll tell them the story of Baby Jeeter and the Three Wide Men right now just get them both the hell out of here . . . he followed her hitching gait as far as the tub where she stopped to finally free the other leg, followed the flap of sandals to the door where he dragged in a bundle of newspapers.

  —Man like how did we know you’ll still be here this morning . . . She balled the denim under an arm, shook the plaid legs out their full length—I mean like Bast he didn’t come back yet?

  The newspaper bundle cleared QUICK QUAKER to slide off and settle among lampshades and he turned to drag in a carton,—last I heard he was in Ohio . . .

  —Oh wow. I mean like where’s that. She held up the plaids—like I got him these bigger pants but I mean you really need them man. I mean like what happened.

  He heaved the carton up past , dragged two more in past the sink—what do you mean what happened.

  —I mean you ought to see yourself man, like I mean once they gave Al this kidney test where he pissed purple right down the front of your pants and this black all over your face I mean you look like you didn’t even shave since I saw you . . .

  —Wash and shave as soon as I get these God damned boxes in been moving boxes around this God damned place since I . . .

  —Man look out you busted the, don’t throw it!

  —Where in, what the hell . . .

  —What does it look like I mean it’s about a million book matches, I mean I just told you it’s busted don’t try and throw it didn’t I? Now look what you did you got them dumped all over the . . .

  —All right! look just get the corner there and push it in will you? Who the hell’s sending a case of matchbooks . . .

  —Man like who the hell’s sending anything and I mean what are you pushing all these boxes in there around for anyway, you found your Tootsie Rolls?

  —What my, no my notes no looking for a typewriter have to type this whole God damned thing over again cheese and tomato all over it where you and Bast . . .

  —Me and Bast what man I mean like Schramm’s typewriter it’s right in by those brown books, I mean all this work you said you came here to do and you . . .

  —Yes well God damn it look! get anything done here, get through one simple sentence without somebody banging on the door troop of idiots comes in to rehearse phone ringing . . .

  —Man like so let it ring . . . she was unwadding a tattered scrap of newspaper—I mean like why answer it then.

  —Because I’ve been waiting for a call . . . he scaled a bundle over Appletons’—waiting for an important call, now what . . .

  —Look man I mean I just need to make like this one call okay?

  She tur
ned away to reach up and dial, drew his eyes up—whole God damned reason I’m trying to get this work done . . .

  —Hello? Like did you have this ad in the paper about . . . hello? I mean look my friend showed me this ad in the paper where you want this girl to . . . No but like for how much, I mean . . . no but I mean like what do you want me to do screw a horse in . . . what like right now? I mean I can come now if . . . ask for Mister what? Like c h . . . i? c i . . .? No man I mean I know where the hotel is I’m coming right down . . . She sank to 24–12 Oz Btls Fragile! to tie a moccasin—man like these pants I just brought you, I mean like can you give me five dollars?

  —Five what do you, you didn’t bring them to me I didn’t ask you for them look I’ve got a suit to pick up at Tripler’s why the hell would I want . . .

  —Man like walk into Triplets like that I mean they’d call the police, I mean look man these cost eleven ninety-seven look at the tag and I mean I need cab fare they said come right down for this inter . . .

  —Christ here take the five dollars . . . he straightened up from the last bundle of newspapers—well now wait what, you just sold them to me what the hell are you putting them back on for.

  —Man like I’m borrowing them I just said I have to go to this interview, it’s like some publicity thing I mean how do I know what they want me to do . . . her leg gaped fighting a foot back into the plaid from 24–12 Oz Btls Fragile!—screw a horse in Macy’s window?

  —God damndest customer loyalty to Macy’s . . . he heaved the last bundle toward Appletons’, lifted the door closed—how they ever earned it from such a discriminating . . .

  —Man like once I bought this rug there you know . . .? She got the other foot in, got up pulling them high—and I mean when it came the color really stank so like I returned it and then they keep sending me these fucking bills for it, like I mean I write to them and I go in there and I mean they won’t stop man . . . she was down rolling a cuff up inside—so like it’s a year later I’m trying to get this real job someplace working I mean I even buy these clothes and everything for it, so when I come in they say they’re informed I have this lousy credit reference for this fucking rug I never paid for and like I don’t get the job I mean that was the last time man, I mean the last time . . . she fought the clasp—I mean this way I save them all this grief of some spaced out old bag writes these sales slips and sending you these bills and lawyer letters it’s like simpler for everybody I mean what’s wrong with that . . .