Flaming Zeppelins (12 page)

“Used to be horses on the island,” Momo said. “I brought them with me. Two of them. A stallion and a mare. Worked them for a while, then experimented with them. This is all that remains of Dobbin. It's quite functional, you know. The mare, Mattie, didn't care for it much, and I had to stand on a bucket to use it. It was entirely functional, you see, but I just was not tall enough to do the job properly. Got kicked once. Sometimes, in a moment of excitement, the mare would pull me off the bucket. It resulted in some injuries. Both to me and the mare. Eventually, we ate the mare. Though I did have her sexual equipment grafted onto Catherine. Would you like to see that?”

“Heavens no,” Annie said, her face red as fire. “Please…put it up.”

“Very well,” Momo said.

Momo, almost sadly, dunked his dong back into his drawers, food particles and all.

Bull downed a glass of wine. “Big deal.” He stood up, pulled down his pants, tossed his hammer on the table, smashing his mashed potatoes flat. “They not call me Bull for nothing.” Bull shook his penis. “Only little smaller than doctor's. Not ugly. Not come off horse. Come with Bull. Get damn big when happy.”

“Most impressive,” Momo said, gritting his teeth.

“Catherine,” Bull said. “She your squaw? Or she free range?”

“Oh, free range for sure. But she's quite in love with me, I must admit. No use trying there.”

“Put it up, Bull,” said Hickok. “You're offending the lady.”

“Oh my, yes,” Annie said, but she took a good long look anyway.

“I knew a fella with one bigger than either one of you,” Cody said. “He got ready for the deed, so much blood went to it he passed out.”

“You're making that up,” Hickok said.

“No,” Cody said. “No I'm not. It's true. Every word of it. At least the words in between that I'm not lying with.”

Cody laughed and so did Momo and Jack. Bull even thought it was a hoot. Then again, after two glasses of wine, Bull thought everything was funny and was willing to do almost anything, though this was the first time Hickok had seen him take his dick out. It was quite a show stopper. Too bad it couldn't be used in The Wild West Show.

When the monster awoke, he saw Tin sitting in a chair near him. He thought the Tin Man was gorgeous. His metal skin was smooth and flowing, like silver flesh; his face was like that of a god. The monster tried to sit up, but the straps restrained him. He was amazed to discover his arm had regrown itself completely in a matter of a few hours. It was not sewn on at the shoulder like the other, it was an arm grown from the shoulder out.

His foot had regrown as well, except for the toes. Momo had explained that since it had been amputated longer, was not as fresh, it would take a bit more time.

“Here,” said the Tin Man, “let me release those.”

“Are you not afraid I will seize you?”

“I am not. You see, I am strong. Very strong.”

Tin released the straps. The monster swung to the side of the table, but suddenly felt dizzy. He lay back down.

“It will take some time,” Tin said. “When you get ready, there are some clothes for you on the chair. And some sandals.”

“Thanks. You asked him to give me anesthetic. And though he did not, I appreciate the gesture.”

“Momo enjoys the pain of others. Mine included.”

“You feel pain?”

“I feel pain. Of a different sort. The metal feels nothing, but in here,” Tin tapped his chest, “in my body of gears and clockworks, wires and springs, I feel much. But I am not human. I have no heart. Except this watch that beats like one.”

Tin pulled the huge turnip watch from his vest pocket. “It was given me by a man who I thought was a wizard, but I realize now, after all this time, was a fool. No heart, and because I am not human…no soul either.”

“There is a heart in this chest, but in one sense neither chest nor heart is mine,” said the monster. “It was borrowed by my creator from a dying man while it still beat. In me, the heart beats slow. The blood flows slow, like honey in winter. And like you, having been made, I have no soul, for in the greater sense of things I am not alive. I move. I think. I consider. But I am dead.”

“I am called Tin,” said the metal man. “What do they call you?”

“Monster is common. Sometimes Creature. ‘There He Is' is used a lot. I used to think my name was ‘Get Him,' or ‘Kill Him.'”

“You are making a joke?”

“A little one. Now and then I'm called Frankenstein after my creator, poor dumb fuck that he was. You have heard the stories, have you not?”

“Stories?”

“About the murder of his wife…the murder of Frankenstein himself. Both said to be committed by me.”

“Were they?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Look, I have a past too. Perhaps we could share our stories. I like you. I do not fear you. Do not fear me.”

“I do not.”

“Good…so, shall I call you Monster?”

“Though I have no given name, I actually have taken one for myself. One I overheard, liked, and prefer to call myself.”

“Then I shall call you that. What is the name?”

“Bert.”

“Bert it is. Would you like to come to my cabin where we can talk?”

“Will that cause trouble with your boss?”

“He said to watch after you. He did not say how. Besides, I care less and less about my boss. I think, like the man who claimed to be a wizard and told me this watch was a heart, what Momo has promised me he can not and will not give.”

“And what was that?”

“The thing we both crave most. A soul.”

It just happened. A kind of magnetism. One moment Tin and Bert were in Tin's cabin, Tin showing him his collection of clocks, and the next moment their bodies were pressed together, Tin's smooth metal lips against the dead rubbery ones of the monster.

It worked, those lips together.

Bert carefully removed Tin's vest with its shiny watch chain and turnip watch, and slowly, Tin removed Bert's new clothes, dropped them to the floor. The next moment they fell in bed together. The room ticked and thundered clocks.

There was a problem. Tin didn't have any place for Bert to put the old see-saw.

“Look,” said Tin, rubbing Bert's chest. “I know it's unconventional, but I can take care of you, and there is a way you can take care of me… Between my legs there's this loose bolt, and if you touch it with your finger…for I have touched it many times with my own, and you shake it a little, well, it does something to me. The gears and clocks inside of me run faster, seize up, stop, let go furiously, and I feel warm all over. It is a heavenly experience, and in that moment, when I feel that charge... just that one little moment…I feel as if I not only have a soul, but that it can soar.”

“In other words, you want me to kind of finger that little bolt there until you get off?”

“Yeah, oh yeah, oh heaven's yes, that works. Yes. That works. Faster, my love.”

When it was over, Tin lay on his back. His body was alive with whirling gears and clacking clocks. He felt as if he had levitated and that lava flowed over his gears. It was far better than when he had serviced himself. Bert had the touch.

“I was built of tin,” Tin said. “I was built to help clear wood to make lumber. I remember nothing other than one moment I stood up and an axe was put in my hand. I was given orders, and I did them. Then one day I did them no more. I was rusted in the forest.

“I was saved by a trio of travelers and a dog. There was a girl named Dot. The dog was called BoBo. There was a lion that walked on its hind legs and was called Bushy, because of his mane, and there was a man made of straw. He was called Straw.

“They seemed nice enough. Especially the young girl. The dog was cute. But Bushy and Straw, though nice, there was just something about them. The way they followed Dot. The way Straw's arm would linger on her shoulders, brush her bottom. It didn't seem quite right, you know?

“They all wanted something. The girl Dot wanted to go home. She claimed a storm had carried her to our world inside a house. A little bit of a tall tale, perhaps. Bushy wanted strength and courage. Straw wanted a brain. And he needed it. He wasn't that smart. The dog was just along, you know. What the hell does a dog want.”

“This sounds like a very strange place,” Bert said.

“To me it was normal. It was where I was born, where I lived. It was called XYZ.”

“Ex-ee-zee?”

“Close enough,” Tin said. “It is a world that lies somewhere sideways to this one. That is the best I can explain. I asked Doctor Momo about it once. He said my world most likely lies in another dimension. I can't say. I only know that I am from XYZ, and now I am here.”

“And how did you get here?”

“They were all on their way to see a mighty wizard, to get the things they wanted. You see, Dot, she was from a parallel world too. But not XYZ. She wanted to go home.”

“Are there many of these worlds?”

“I cannot say, but I suppose. The world Dot spoke of might well be this world. Actually, I thought she was lying. A little dotage in the Dot, you see. Now I know she was telling the truth.”

“Did you find the wizard, did he help?”

“We went to see him. It was said he could give me a heart. He gave me a watch and told me it was as good as a heart. He gave Straw a funny hat and told him it was a brain. Well, stupid as he was, he believed it. He gave the lion a gun, told him he didn't need to be strong and courageous, he could just shoot anyone that bothered him.

“Well, those were simpler times and it was a simpler place, and we bought that crap. A little later we realized our wizard was a fraud who had drifted into our country out of a mist from a place called Kansas. He claimed it was the same place Dot lived.”

“What about Dot? Did she go home?”

“He planned to sail away in his balloon back to his world. He kept saying there was a dark air draft on up high, and that if he entered it at a certain time, it would suck him home. He said he would know when the mist showed up. Dot was to go with him, but during the night, he crept away and went by himself. You see, the mist showed. It looked like silver dust spinning. Maybe he did not have time to wake her. I cannot say. But it is my guess he never meant to bother. I hope he was struck by lightning.

“Anyway, he left me with a watch and no heart. I am full of watch work, so maybe he saw that as a joke. Momo promised me a real heart. A heart taken from one of the animals he experiments on. He said he could fasten it inside of me and it would pump. But he lied. I am sophisticated now. You can not make heart and clockwork click in unison. Not and have it mean anything. A clock does not pump blood through its veins. And a soul…I realize now I was never meant to have that. Never.”

“Then we are alike,” Bert said. “I am told God cannot love that which has no soul. So I am doomed to be nothing.”

“If we are both nothing, perhaps we can be nothing together.”

“Perhaps that is, in fact, something.”

Tin smiled, the metal rippling slowly across his face, revealing his shiny tin teeth.

“Did Dot have to stay in XYZ?” Bert asked.

Tin narrowed his eyes, a drop of oil squeezed out, ran along his face. “For a time,” he said. “Tell me your story, Bert. Tell me how you came to be.”

“I will,” Bert said wiping the oil drop away with his fingers. “But finish your story. How did you get here from this world of yours? Sometimes it is best to discuss the things that hurt us.”

“Very well. Here is the hard part. Dot, the little girl. She was supposed to leave by wearing the silver shoes given her by a witch. It is a long story, but when the wizard didn't work out, a witch gave her some shoes. All Dot had to do was put them on, click the heels together and say something about how it would be nice to go home. Something about computer chips inside them. Anyway, that's what the witch called them. I have no idea what that is. The witch said they sent surges through the shoes, activated a grid on which Dot could ride through space and time to her world. Had Dot listened, I suppose she would be home now.

“But Straw, that filthy scarecrow, talked her into staying another day, to visit with us — me, the lion, and himself. She did just that.

“Poor Dot. She didn't understand that Straw's obsession had grown renegade. And the lion followed along. He was up for whatever Straw wanted. Together they added up to bad.

“I slept late the next morning, awoke to a sound. Down the halls of the palace I heard a muffled scream. I got up, went out. I heard scuffling in Dot's room, and when I got there, well, Straw had her on her back and she was fighting him. I grabbed him and tore his head off. Then I ripped straw out of his chest, and jerked his legs and arms off. But it was too late for Dot. She had died from the assault. Her little dog, BoBo, lay in the fireplace, burning, its head twisted at an odd angle.

“The lion shot at me. The bullets bounced off. He tossed the gun aside. So much for his courage. He bolted. I found him in his room cowering in a closet. I was so angry at the lion, I tore him apart, limb from limb. I was an absolute savage, no better than they.

“Then it occurred to me that the palace guards would think I murdered the two to have Dot to myself; and that I then raped and murdered her.”

“No offense. What would you have raped her with? You don't have a… Well… You know.”

“It wouldn't have mattered. They might have thought I did it with my hand. A substitute penis like a fireplace poker. Who is to say? I was frightened, bad as the lion. Know what I did?”

“No, Tin. I do not.”

“I took Dot's silver slippers from her feet, put them on, and clicked my heels three times, just as the witch had told her, and I said, ‘get me home, you betcha.' It worked. Everything went foggy. I seemed to be falling through space. I realized as I was swept away, I did not have a real home. Maybe I would go to Dot's home. Or my original place of creation. Wherever that was. It did not matter. All that mattered was that I be away from the palace at XYZ.”