A Fairy Tale of New York

by J. P. Donleavy

  Raised voices at the other end of the bar. Tall crew cut beefy guy in a thin green sweat shirt, screwing up one side of his face to tell a shorter grey suited man.

  "If your kind of speaking is so hot what are you doing in a dump like this."

  "What are you."

  ''I 'm here because I 'm wise, that's why.''

  "Wise."

  "Yeah wise."

  "Well I carry twenty thousand dollars worth of insurance.''

  "Tell me another."

  "I have a brother who lives out in Manhasset and he's insured for forty five thousand dollars.''

  "You know what. I think you 're full of shit.''

  "What are you jealous because my brother's insured for forty five thousand dollars.''

  "Jealous of you. Why you're full of shit.''

  "Just say that again.''

  "You 're full of shit."

  "Say that without smiling.''

  "You're full of shit."

  "Well just don't say that again, that's all.''

  "You're full of shit."

  ''I 'm warning you, say that once more and you 'll be sorry.''

  "You're full of shit."

  "I 'm just waiting that's all, you 'll see.''

  "I see you full of shit."

  "Is that all you can say.''

  "I like saying you're full of shit."

  ''Some guys don't know when they 've said enough.''

  "That's right. Because you 're full of too much shit.''

  ''I don't think I like this company. I 'm going.''

  The tall beefy gorm reaching out to grab and raise this smaller man on his toes. Pulling him upwards by the scruff of his shiny nylon shirt and tugging his tie crossed with the latest in stripes. As the other two companions step back. And the bartender gets hurriedly busy spacing out whiskey bottles on his shelf.

  "Not so fast dude, I said you're full of shit. Are you going to make a liar out of me in front of four other people."

  "I'm going."

  ''Am I right or wrong.''

  "Let me go."

  "See this, this is my fist. Am I right or wrong. Are you full of shit"

  "For the sake that we can all live in peace maybe you're right"

  ''Then what are you."

  "I don't know if lam."

  "Look dude I'm not kidding. Making me out I'm a liar. You just made a liar out of me. Say you're full of shit."

  "I'm full of shit."

  "Now dude don't that make you feel better. And your brother, he's full of shit. Go on, say it."

  "And my brother's full of shit."

  "And your brother ain't insured for no forty five thousand dollars because no guy related to you is worth that much because you, dude are full of shit, just like your brother and your father and your mother."

  ''Leave my mother out of it.''

  "I said your mother.''

  "Don't you say that about my mother, you leave her out of it. What's she done to you. My mother's a fine woman.''

  "Not after she had you dudie boy.''

  Little grey suited man raising his arms, palms held up to hold back the avalanche of horror. His glasses flashing tears on his eyes.

  "You big dirty rat you. Sure, you could knock me down. Sure, you could pummel and sock me. Sure, you big bully. I'm depressed. What you've said to me is so awful. If I was bigger you wouldn't say it.

  "Sure I would dude."

  "Making me say that about my brother, one of the kindest guys I've ever known. And a mean guy like you, pushing little people around. Picking on me when I've done nothing to you. Makes you feel brave because I'm scared of fighting. Sure, you can poke me right now in the face and break my jaw. I'm not tough. I'm not strong. But I told you not to say what you did about my mother. I told you. And you went right on and said it. Boy that's lousy. Now you won't let me walk out. You just rode me into the ground. You rat. I'm heartbroken."

  "Who you suddenly calling a rat, dude.''

  "You. You are. To say that my mother was full of what you said. I 'm crying. I loved that woman. I loved mymother.''

  "Hey dude, wait."

  "No I won't."

  "Stop crying for christ 's sake, dude."

  No. I'm going to make you pay. You'll pay. Because my mother she was the most wonderful person who ever lived. I kneel and would kiss the ground she walked on.''

  "Hey dude, come on. I take back what I said. Gee will you stop crying for Christ's sake. Listen to me. I'm a rat. A lousy lousy rat. You could flood your lungs the way you're crying. Come on, straighten up and fly right. I was kidding everything I said."

  "You said she was full of shit. She slaved her whole life raising four kids. She ironed and did without for us. My father kicked her around. She's dead. O god my mother, the most blessed creature whoever lived in god's kingdom is dead. And I heard words, rotten dirty filthy words said about her, the dearest and best person in the world.''

  "Dude punch me. I shouldn't have said it. Come on. I know kiddo. Don't I have a mother myself. Your brother in Manhasset, it's a classy district, his insurance could be eighty five thousand dollars and I wouldn't think it was too much. Only stop the crying, Harry."

  "My name's not Harry.''

  "Ok tell me your name.''

  "Sylvester."

  "Sylvester. I'm called Ed. O boy Sylvester. You're a great guy. A real good guy. I'm apologising. What do you want me to do, go down on my knees."

  "Yes I do."

  ''Hey come on. Sylvester.''

  "You better. Because you better start praying."

  Bartender turns around from his bottles to take a rag and wipe back and forth over the bar, and slowly begins to crouch. As Sylvester steps back. The other two guys trying to stand behind each other. A smile on Ed's face fading. A tiny pistol emerged from the little man's jacket pocket. Slowly raising it in his hand as folk shrink. Big Ed putting his hands up in front of his face. To block the lead. His mouth making words that don't come out. And then opening wide to scream as bullets go into him. Eed little holes on his chest Find yourself counting. Three four five. Big Ed, hands behind him clutching the bar rail. Six. And he falls to the floor. One leg bent under. One eye open, the other closed. Blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. Hear Clarance Vine's voice. Tell me all over again. It's the discourtesy which causes the murder in this town. And Doctor Pedro. Says every day walk sixty blocks. Over coleslaw watch the fucked up expressions on the faces of your fellow man. And here's one now. On the bar room floor. Be glad you're not like that.

  Grinning

  Dead

  24

  On this murderous steamy hot afternoon. Christian entering the bright cool air of the pure white Think Boom of the Mott empire. Mr Quell, head of Thinking, stopping mid aisle in his shirt sleeves. Hips wider than his shoulders. Ears big as hands. Tiny red mustache hiding his upper lip. Long fading pink hair combed in a marcel wave over his bald head.

  Where the hell have you been. You heard me. What's the matter. Have you got laryngitis."

  JUST SLACK VOCAL COBDS.

  "What are you trying once more, to be funny Christian. Well this really is something, isn't it. Now you can't speak. Writing on pieces of paper. When we couldn't get you to write on paper when you could speak. Go on. Go and see Mr How. I don't think I'm all that whole heck of a lot in need of your services at the moment."

  Tighten the teeth a little. Awful how one wants to take him and flick his tie up in his face. Or dump on it a whole heck of a lot of shit. An overall brown would help with his vulgar choice of colors. Wants me to enter his own little power struggle. To improve his department. And fill Mott's orbit with another triumph of thought.

  How has a nice new secretary. I've not seen before. My deep serious silence might make her think I'm an acting deputy assistant department head. Howdy chickadee. Why don't you accompany this big spender to a nightclub. Watch me feel absolutely at home among the celebrities. Baby, me no cog. Come roll with me. Me big wheel.

  "Mr Christian,
Mr How will see you now."

  THANK YOU.

  "You're welcome but gee I'm sorry I didn't know you were deaf and dumb."

  JUST DUMB NOT DEAF.

  "Ogee."

  Christian moving along through these typing sounds and ringing telephones. The massive ass flattening continues. Everyone looking so god damn composed. Or else up at the clock. Stand stagestaggered now in front of Howard How's door. Down the street I walked into a big building. Eight at the bottom of Broadway. Stood at the counter in the massive shady room. Said in my most nervous muttering whisper. How much is it out of here and back across the Atlantic on the cheapest boat.

  ''Mr Christian please go in, Mr How will see you now.''

  Howard How, his hands flat out on his desk. Same sandy face.Parts his hair one third and two thirds. Lot of son of a bitches try to be smart aleck with two fifths and three fifths,

  "Sit down Cornelius. Boy what a busy day. First free second I've had. And it has to be another problem with you. Your file here, Cornelius. Doesn't need more than a look. All I got to say, gee it really is too bad. Late. Miss work. Can't get in touch with you. Today you come to work in the middle of the afternoon. Mr Quell says you're writing notes on pieces of paper. What the hell's happened that you can't speak."

  I THINK I MAY BE HAVING A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN.

  "You know, Cornelius, I'm going to be candid, you were really one guy, out of the hundreds and hundreds I see, that I would have sworn would go places. Somehow it just breaks my heart. Isn't the renumeration enough. That's o k you don't have to write an answer. But look, this report. When you weren't looking at them tearing the building down, or were they building it. Gee, you're even getting me confused. Anyway if it wasn't sending dirty remarks by semaphore to the guys on the building over there, you were sneaking looks at Mr Quell's Wall Street Journal. Are you having a shot at the market or something Cornelius. If you're here at all, you're heading for the water cooler or just coming back. And if it's not that you're hanging over the desk of someone who's working, and making undermining remarks. What's the matter, Cornelius don't you like us here at Mott. O k, if the answer's not too long, write it down.''

  IT SEEMS THAT WHAT I DO JUST ISN'T MAKING ANY IMPRESSION ON THE WORLD. I HAVE A PEELING OP WORTHLESSNESS.

  "Hey now Cornelius. That's no way to feel. Sure you're worth something. You know, I've told my wife about you. Even said she wanted to meet you. Meet our kids. But please just from our side look at it. I mean if it's any consolation, your fourteen visits to the rest room in one day, may not have made an impression on the world but it sure made one on us. O k, if you have an answer write it down."

  I HAVE A NERVOUS KIDNEY CONDITION.

  "Sorry to read this Cornelius. We have a whole range of company medical services. Why not get your self a check up.''

  I'VE BEEN TO THE DOCTOR.

  "Did he tell you it was something serious.''

  HE TOLD ME THE ONLY THING I HAD GOING FOR ME WAS NO ONE COULD CALL ME A COCKSUCKER. I APOLOGISE FOR THE LANGUAGE.

  "O k, I'm adult Cornelius. But let's not try to be too comical, what the hell kind of doctor you going to. Gee it's only that some day you could be up there with the celebrities.''

  MY DOCTOR SAYS EVERY CELEBRITY IN THIS TOWN IS A JACKASS.

  "I won't dispute your doctor's medical advice, Cornelius, but some of those celebrities are important people. But who knows, maybe being a celebrity is a medical problem. Anyway my problem is, Cornelius, I got to use a disheartening word. By the rule book I'm supposed to fire you. You've given me a moral and ethical nightmare. You might say these have been heart rending days. I know there isn't anything evil and filthy in your background, Christian. But we don't even have one reference, outside the funeral parlor we can fall back on. Maybe you're just having a bad month. If yon need it, why don't yon reach out for help. It could rid yon of your feeling of worthlessness. I mean, what the hell, we're all worthless. Come down to it. I mean couldn't some guy walk right into my job and where would I be."

  MR MOTT ISN'T WORTHLESS.

  "No he's not. I'll grant yon that. He could be worth a hundred million."

  THAT'S WHY HE CAN WALK INTO A ROOM AND SAY WHAT'S ON HIS MIND.

  "Yeah, I'm reading yon, it's a good point. I guess for guys like meit's what I 'm carrying in life insurance that counts.''

  DON'T MENTION INSURANCE.

  "Why not."

  JUST LEFT A PLACE WHERE A GUY GOT SHOT FOR IT.

  "Is that right. Well maybe it's amazing the subjects that can get you into hot water these days. But now just let me ask you just one question Cornelius, I don't want you to take it in the wrong way, just write yes or no. Didn't you have a father to look up to and to respect.''

  NO.

  "Sorry to hear that."

  HE WAS A GOD DAMN BUM.

  "Holy gee Cornelius, you can't say that about your own father."

  HE WAS A SHAM, PHONY AND BRAGGART.

  "Hey come on. It really hurts me to hear, I mean read you on this. Can a son really grow up and say that about his own father."

  YES.

  "Those are strong words Cornelius, I don't mind telling yon. But that shouldn't hold you back from your goal in life. You know I even thought I'd like for my little boy Billie to grow up like you, Cornelius. Maybe that's what you need, wife and kids, to make a go of it. Make you feel you had something to win for. A son. That you've got to make it. For him. When your boy and girl's future means more to you than anything else in the world. But why do you do it. Hang over the other guy's desks making these cranky, crippling statements. There are pages of them written down here in the complaints. I don't know, I've got the whole personnel of this company to worry about and I find myself getting up in the morning enraged at some of the things you've been doing. And I got to level with you, Cornelius. Your kind of attitude is just not going to help us knock hell out of the competition in this industry. I mean to put it frankly you are sabotaging us. Same thing as a bomb or something blowing the hell out of us. I mean if you came out there to Forest Hills and saw what I've got. Wife, three swell kids. Moving along with a few little improvements all the time. Built a little cantilevered back porch out on the back of the house with my own two bare hands. Rigged up an extra shower down in the basement. Put up new storm windows. Cut down my fuel bill a whole fourteen percent. These are the real things Cornelius. Like the four new snow tires I got stacked up in my garage, ready for winter. You know, I look forward to using those tires. Look at them there in the garage, thinking how I'm going to cruise right over the snow and ice after Thanksgiving. A swell thought on a hot summer's day. I've got growing my own herb garden. Did you know that. Back there on the good earth after a hard day at the office, a great feeling. Sorry keep forgetting you can't talk.''

  IS IT ALL LOVE AND BEAUTY OUT THERE.

  "Why no Cornelius it's not. I'll be frank. I got this guy next door complaining I'm screwing up the air, sending wop smells from my garlic patch over into his back play area. You got to expect this kind of little ethnic trouble from time to time. I mean, believe it or not, the guy's a real wop himself."

  THEN NOT EVERYTHING IS SWELL OUT THERE.

  "No Cornelius, not everything is swell, I would be less than candid to say it was. But there are good guy neighbors too. The fellow across the street. Everything is going swell with him. He just made vice president in charge of sales for a big east coast pharmaceutical operation. Got himself a three car garage. His wife is a kind of sex beauty queen. She's got some shape. He's got a lot going for him. And one thing, we're absolutely agreed on. He's never going to sell out to an undesirable. And I'm not. We shook hands on it.''

  WHAT ABOUT THE GUY COMPLAINS ABOUT YOUR GARLIC.

  "That's a valid question Cornelius. I'm glad you asked it. Well, I don't know. He might do that kind of thing, maybe, and sell to an undesirable. I don't know he must have something. He's been burglarized four times in three months. My wife's seen these guys pulling out of their garage with a bi
g truck. We've only been burglarized once. But you know, there's something funny about him. Hardly ever see the wife and he keeps to himself. Never see any friends coming or going. Plenty of times I struck up a conversation. But he doesn't want to talk. I mean even in your own garden, some people will hold garlic against you. That's o k by me. The guy's maybe worried about his taxes or something."

  HE MIGHT HAVE AN ILLICIT STILL IN HIS HOUSE.

  "Ha ha, hey that's really a good one Cornelius. You see, that imagination of yours. If we could harness it. Don't you love your country. Want to do something for it."

  I THINK THE NIGGERS SHOULD TAKE IT OVER.

  "Now what kind of a controversial remark is that Cornelius."

  THEY'VE GOT BETTER MANNERS.

  "Holy cow, ethnically Cornelius you're way off. What the hell kind of opinion is that.''

  THEY'RE A PASTORAL PEOPLE.

  "Ok, maybe I'll grant you that. I mean that's interesting. But supposing the bloodbath comes. When the pendulum of property values is going to sock some of us for a loop. You know the god damn riots that go on already. I mean Forest Hills could go black overnight. I mean pardon me Cornelius, but what the hell are god damn manners in the middle of the bloodbath. I mean I can't go out on my back cantilevered porch after dark without wondering if some black son of a bitch is going to jump me. Right up out of my own god damn herb garden. I mean there's a guy now, about once a month shoots some resident dead. I mean he could just take your wallet, but no, he kills you right afterwards. You call that manners.''