''I fainted in court."
"That was smart. How many fingers have I got held up.''
"That was smart.
"Three."
''Ever get headaches.''
"No."
"Good. Now open your fly and milk down your prick. Good.
Now touch your toes. Good. You crap all right.''
"Yes."
"Good. If you eat good, crap good, work good, nothing can kill you except a long life. I send Vine my bill and you live happily ever after. How's that.''
"Ok."
"You look like you got brains. Are you smart.''
"I hope so."
"Well it's good to be smart in this town. Where everything is selling or stealing. Sure everybody's worried about crime. But I'll tell you. Without crime this city would collapse. Everybody come to me. They all want needles in their backside. Pricks up their ass hole would do them more good. They don't feel good in this town till you stick a needle in their rear end. So I take this out. Fat as a cigar. They see me coming at them with the dresses up and their pants down and they start running. I say why are you running. They say holy cow doc you're not going to stick that big thing in my ass. I say I'm too old for flattery. That sure, I'm going to stick this big needle in your ass. That's what you want don't you. I'm a good doctor I use a big needle. Well then they don't want this needle. So you know what I give them. Penance. I send them home to use their eyebrows. God gave you eyebrows to catch the sweat. So go scrub your kitchen floor. Down on your knees. I tell them. The whole god damn floor. Till it shines. That's the cure. For you too. God damn people think they can sit around on their god damn fat flat asses and get a needle in it and be healthy. That's bull shit. So you get out of here, you're fine. Don't get syph or the clap. Watch out for the crabs too. Clean your ass with soap and water after you crap. Walk three miles a day. And don't listen to jackasses. And wait. Before you go. You know how to test the real beauty of a woman."
"No."
"It's easy. You really know she's beautiful when you want to kiss the toilet seat she sits on. Goodbye. And watch out for jackasses. Hey wait a minute. You know what god is.''
"No."
"God is what your desires are. What are your desires. They should be plenty ass and plenty money. So that's what god is, plenty ass and plenty money. Goodbye. Watch out for clap. It comes in the throat too. Hey wait a minute. You know I'm a bachelor. I bury three girlfriends. I should have been dead three times. You know why I don't die. Because I tell women what to do. Goodbye. Hey wait a minute. Don't forget. Watch out for jackasses. You know why. Because you just met one."
Charlie delivering me that day back to my shady side street. Up Fifth Avenue. Through the flood of yellow cabs. Folk waiting. Doormen's whistles blowing. People stepping in under the canopies. In thunder wind and lightning. Flashing up the underside of the leaves in the park. The whole city washed clean. Dust and grime down the sewers. All ready for a brand new layer. Just as I crawled into my own little hole. And switched on a television set I bought. To watch the jackasses.
Took Doctor Pedro's advice. For a few minutes. Lifting up the carpet on the floor. To scrub. Until I nearly got smothered in dust. And next day Howard How called me into his office.
"What's bugging you Cornelius. I have complaint after complaint about you."
"I'm sorry Mr How somehow the struggle upwards seems too steep."
"Let us be confidential Cornelius. We're a team here. Just ask yourself. Are you giving of your best. Maybe word formation isn't the activity for you right now. How about selling. I know you're poised and articulate.''
"I guess those are my strong points."
"But Cornelius can you be hard driving. Enough to be able to season yourself to sell in the furore of changeability. With the continual creation of new marketing concepts."
"Mr How right now I honestly don't think I could sell a nozzle, pump or valve to institutionalized patients who were building an asylum energy machine that goes on fire and they want to build another to put it out. I got my last employer into half a million dollar damage action.''
"Hey gee Cornelius, hey gee. You're not going to do that to us."
"No no. It's just that I 'm no damn good.''
"Don't say that. Sure you are. Why don't you take a day or two off. I'll give you a shot at sales when you come back. But Cornelius, level with me. Could I really trust you in sales. Is there any chance at all that you could be an aggressive cut throat deal closer who can go out there and dig up the opportunities. All you have to do is keep your foot in the door. But can a guy like you take a few slams on the ankle once in a while. In the wide business spectrum that exists today you really got to maximise your opportunities. Don't insult the faith I put into you. They tell me from the department that everytime they look around they catch you watching them tear down that building across the street. Sure we all like to watch that. Like I mean, did you see yesterday that guy out there swinging on the girder, gee I couldn't watch, there he was up fifty stories, working while he's eating a god damn sandwich. I had to look through my fingers over my face. They say they got Mohawk Indians doing that.''
For four days away from the office I went out at noon looking for women. At last seeing one suitable coming with big tits out of the park. Just as I was going to ask her to come for a soda, she asked me where the Staten Island ferry was. I opened up my mouth to say I was glad she asked me that question and not a word came out. Because just behind her on the newspaper kiosk was a headline.
MONSTER EMBALMING
CHRISTIAN CLEARS VINE OF JUICY
GRAPES OF WRATH DRIPPING WITH DAMAGES
The girl stood looking as I stared dumbfounded. Until my tongue finally worked and I pointed at the stack of papers. Said that's me. She stepped back. As I pleaded.
"Really it is. Eight in the headline. No kidding, don't go away. I 'll take you right to the ferry.''
"Are you all right.''
"Yes I apologise for the coincidence. That I'm in a headline. You won't mind waiting while I read it.''
"No, sure."
The testimony of a handsome blond Cornelius Treacle Christian was thought to have clinched dismissal of a suit brought by a Mrs Harriet Silver for half million buckeroos damages in the civil court in a judgement handed down by Justice Torn. Expert medical testimony had said Mrs Silver's fear of death had now become impossible to live with after her funereal experience in the Vine Funeral Parlor with the remains of her late husband Herbert who had been "tarted up beyond recognition."However the judge in handing down his decision said that attention had to be paid to the fact that Mr Christian who prepared the remains had improved upon the condition of the body, and that it was in no less good condition than it had been in after he performed his tasks upon it, therefore it was now left to decide that if upon confrontation with such a body whose preparation was not to the liking of the mourner Mrs Silver, whether Mrs Silver had been damaged by suffering a "monstrous mortification."The Justice said that in spite of a most impassioned plea by counsel for the plaintiff, the position was akin to having a room decorated. And that one person might come in and say it looks swell and another might come in and say hey what the hell happened. The question then was a matter of taste. And if damages were awarded concerning a matter of taste the courts .would be so jammed there wouldn't be room for a bug. This latter remark by the Justice is thought to refer to the spate of actions filed against the city for bug bites during the hearing.
Christian folding the newspaper. Taking a nice easy shallow lungful of mild auto exhaust. Look out now again around the earth. Only three thousand phone calls away from success. Till I can tuck myself into a green tapestried room. Somewhere up there in that mountain range of towering buildings. And meanwhile tell this waiting girl.
"I'm sorry about that. But it's the first time I've ever seen my name in the newspapers. It makes you think you're right there. Right on the page and that it's you.''
She wore a pink thin jacket fl
ying open over a tight purple sweater all under a big head of curly blond hair. Close up she looks worse and different than she did far away. When she looked swell. But when you looked close again she looked better. We walked around the corner of the park and by the big memorial to those who lost their lives on a battleship. As she sneaked looks at me. I convinced her what a waste of time and danger it was riding the ferry. And half way down Central Park South, just as I was going to reverse our tracks back to bed. A long grey chauffeured limozine with the porthole back windows squealed stopped.
Fanny Sourpuss stepping out. Breasts bouncing in a white summery flowered dress, sandals flapping on her feet. Her long tan arms jangling a mob of bracelets. Walking right up to me on these hexagonal asphalt blocks. To raise her eyebrows at this girl.
"How dare you be seen like this with my husband you little tramp."
Girl looking at Christian for advice as she steps back a little to enquire.
''Hey who's kidding, who are you.''
"I'm his wife and I'll give you a god damn sock in the eye if you don't get the hell out of here. And I'll god damn well bite your ear lobes off too."
''Gee do you really mean it.''
"You 're god damn right I mean it. Beat it.''
As I stand watching her go wide eyed with one look back over her shoulder. And Fanny heaving, eyes blazing. Color in her cheeks.
"And as for you, you god damn son of a bitch. Who was that little blond dyed cunt, you just picked up, who was she.''
''I was giving her directions.''
''Directions my ass. You were going to fuck her.''
''How do you know, you just got out of your car.''
"I know when a guy's trying to fuck somebody. Besides I've been watching you since you came out of your house.''
Glen sitting chewing gum, staring ahead through his windscreen. Double parked. In the humid afternoon. Taxis squeal by as doormen's whistles blow. A haze covering the sky. To make more thunder clouds collect in the west. Folk slow down to stare. At Fanny swaying with one fist pressed on her hip, And to see her nose, her eyes and lips and her whole lazy eyed face again. And smell her perfume.
''Look, that girl was a nice person.''
"Nice person my ass, no girl's a nice person. I know what every one of these god damn girls are after. Don't tell me. Nice girl. The fuck she was.''
"You 're invading my privacy."
"That's right. I'm invading your privacy. You think you're so god damn beautiful walking around this town like a prize peacock."
"As a matter of fact I've been wracked by humility this morning."
Fanny dropping her arms. A long silent staring. The little light coming slowly bright in her eyes. Getting bigger like the small smile on her lips.
"O god Cornelius, you're such a dream, I can't get over you. My own my most cherished mortician and I kicked you out. It's just that I can't stand seeing you eating and drinking all my good food and booze and taking baths in my luxurious bathroom. That'sail it is."
"What do you want me to do."
"Get a job as a house wrecker. With dust falling all over you and sweat pouring down your face, your veins and muscles bulging, your arms getting sunburned.''
''Holy cow what kind of perversion is that."
"Come on. Cornelius. Let's go back to my place and screw.''
Climbing into the limozine. Glen turning to give Christian a little salute from the peak of his black cap. Scared I might break his fingers for fooling with Fanny's long languorous legs. Those nice ones you wrap around to go to sleep. Summer makes me want to eat her. The peace and quiet inside this auto. Not to mention the lack of cockroaches. All the familiar little knobs sticking out of the upholstery. Blue and white little bags and boxes. And bigger bags and boxes. With names that say that's my prize I 'm bringing back to my palace.
Driving across Fifty Seventh and Fifth. The tints of color in the passing throngs. Fanning themselves with the cool riches on sale. This morning's sunshine came down the street bright and fresh. Lapping the leaves outside my window where a pair of pigeons were flapping and screwing. And right in the middle of my little moment of beauty some crass fucker stops his car to honk his horn. Till the garbage men came waltzing along. Clanging, clattering and strewing the sidewalk and gutters with a new debris.
Upwards on the elevator. Fanny trembling and licking her lips. A flush creeping up her throat and into her cheeks. Kelly the operator calling after us as we headed out into Fanny's lobby.
''Have a good afternoon.''
Inside palms and bamboo panelling. Wicker tables and chairs. Bowls of floating orchids and orange lanterns.
"Like it Cornelius. I cleaned out all that white shit. What the hell why not go tropical awhile. Makes a nice contrast in the chilly air conditioning.''
On a glass covered bamboo cane table. Stacks of crisp white certificates. In their grey upper corners it says twenty five thousand dollars. On one after another. A sole parchment could change my life. Floated down to me in the struggle. Instead of putting the dimes together in a broken cigar box for an extra dollar. I could get on a train and go somewhere. Swivelling round in my chair in a parlor car. Ordering as many cans of beer as I wanted from the attendant.
''What are you thinking about Cornelius."
"Trains."
"You 're looking at my bonds.''
"Yes."
''Swell aren't they. Fifty in each stack.''
Fanny taking a few steps. Stopping. Turning. To look at me. Potted palms in the corners. A pigeon strolling on a window sill. She falls backwards into the bamboo chair and throws her legs up over the arms. Big dark bruises above her knees.
"Caught you with another cunt. Claw her eyes out I would. And sock her all over the street. Then I'd knee her. Drag her by the hair in the gutter. She 'd have plenty to remember me by.''
Christian crossing the room. On the crackling woven palm leaf carpet. To stand above her as she looks up. Out of her tenderest eyes.
"Anyway, there's some chicken Cornelius. And whiskey. And me. What 'll you have."
"I'll have the bonds."
"Then you better excuse me a second I'm going to put them back in my safe. But if you pour me a snort of booze and take down your pants. To hell with the bonds. I want to see it quiver. Bloop it di bloop. That's sound effects for your pants dropping. Am I glad to have you back here. You made me lonely. You made me blue."
"You kicked me out.''
"I've got to tell you something sometime, Cornelius, do you know that. Strange you should think of trains.''
This shadowy sultry afternoon. The heat rises shimmering over the city. Fanny's windows shut, awnings down. Wrap arms around another in our own little loneliness. In this tropical interior. Tearing and tugging at clothes. The whole world was out there just as it is today, last year. Feeling the merchandise on the counters. Shoplifting and pilfering. What hope for an agonised voice screaming fair play. Even as I stood getting weighed I was abused by the insolent tone of the speak your weight machine. Bound about this time doormen's whistles begin to blow. Ladies go out to lunch. My shirt on the floor collected clean this morning from the Chinaman. Sweating in his hot laundry and cooking smells. Goes tapping each brown package with the little pink slip I gave him. His radio blaring, his wife sitting with her chop sticks over a bowl of rice. My wet dream came last night while I was standing at the corner of Eighty First Street and Park. Miss Musk prancing by in a satiny yellow drum majorette's uniform. Leading a Vine funeral. Her muscles quivering as she stamped each step. Saw me at the side of the road. When I asked her whose funeral, she tapped my prick with her baton. Said, didn't you know. It's yours, lover boy. And Fanny pleads with her eyes. A little girl. Lift her by the hips. Hands under the cheeks of her arse. Kneel with her back again on the floor. She wags her hair. Roll and scream against her throat. To hide awhile. In her limbs. In any cool of hot summer. When you hear shouts of families angry in their kitchens. Someone puts their shoes down hard at night over my head w
hen I try to sleep. Terrible lonely sound. Fanny's taken me back. My city again. Whenever she holds my prick in her oils. Mr How don't be mad at me. I only want to slow the Mott empire down as it goes throbbing ahead. So the collision won't be so big in case it hits a recession. Gives the more lackadaisical of us a chance to swim. Always had this trouble of pulling my weight with the rest of the guys. Loosening my tie, rolling up my sleeves. And pitching in. Sadness struck me early in the midsection. And later in the balls. Makes you stagger confused from one lost opportunity to another. Those bonds. What chance have you got. When the whole damn world is written on paper already. And stacked tip somewhere in a safe. With Fanny whispering. And she says Cornelius, sometimes I feel covered all over in the white milky sap of poisonous sumac. With all my good girlish looks, what a prolonged god damn disaster my life has been. I'm going to go west on a train. Did you know that. Eight through Altoona. Through the Appalachians and all that spooky Pennsylvania. Where they got the hex signs up on the barns. They make you do things in the world because your name might start with a B. And because I was the biggest kid in the class they made me play the cello. I tried to sail in the god damn thing right across a pool in the creek. You never heard such belly aching everybody did when the veneer started to peel off and it all warped into a pretzel. People today sprawled everywhere all over the park. Don't know how damn lucky they are with their lives to live. Even hot as it is. Remember that morning, Cornelius. I brought you breakfast in my tight blue jeans. You said my tits gave you an appetite. And I said I had to go to a board meeting. And I came back and together we went to Brooklyn. Right out across Queens to Bockaway. You were listening to vespers. And where I was, was at the doctors. I don't know if I'll ever know what kind of courage I've got. When you get my hydraulics all horny, I guess I could even pull god by the prick. And I think if I wake up each day punching and fighting. The kind of way you do. When you seem to be able to be somebody when you're nobody at all. I won't let them tell me I'm dying. I didn't let them when they told me they'd have to cut my tits off all those months ago. Spend a fortune on operations. To hell with that shit. But they've scared me to a clinic. West on the train. And out there. I want to go slow. Please will you come. Don't say no. Never let it be the end of us. Marry me. All the colors get dark when the light goes away. And you wonder.
A Fairy Tale of New York Page 23
