The Onion Eaters (10 page)

‘No.’

‘Soon fix that. Nothing like a day’s outing over the heather. You’ll settle in nicely. Is your chap called
Percival.’

‘Yes.’

‘By God he’s aged. Give him a pat on the back for me. Quite a lady’s man. Just between you and I in a whisper he’s had more dollies in a family way than rain drops in a bucket. Come on Gail. Shake your arse. We’ll see you Clementine. Show up at sundown.’

‘I don’t have any transport.’

‘We’ll send a four in hand for you by God. With extra pillows so your arse will stay in one piece over the
mountain
road. Good to be in the old castle again. Needs some sprucing up. Get the old bedsteads out of the hedgerows. Put it there, Clementine. See you tonight.’

Lady Macfugger followed by a strutting Nails with a clatter of boot and jangle of spurs crossing the great hall. Through which the exprisoners were passing carrying a large potted tropical palm. Lady Macfugger raising one eyebrow which lowers as Elmer shoves his big black nose
deep between the cheeks of her arse, giving her person a push forwards.

‘Stop it Jeffrey.’

‘Wasn’t me sweetie.’

‘O it’s him, I thought it was you.’

‘There you are Clementine. What a chap does is
reprimanded
and a dog encouraged.’

‘I’m not encouraging.’

‘You loved that goose soon as you found it wasn’t me. Here’s another.’

‘Stop.’

‘You see how it is Clementine, strange dog’s nose
preferred
to a husband’s familiar finger.’

By the castle gates the scientists’ motor now standing on blocks without wheels. The Macfuggers mounting two monstrous gleaming black hunters. A rifle and shot gun strapped to Nails Macfugger’s saddle. And with hooves
clattering
and slipping on the stone cobbles, they smile, wave, and thunder off galloping down the roadway.

Percival laid out my clothes, a rather outsize dinner suit belonging to my father, a crumpled silk shirt, evening shoes and a pair of dark green socks. As the Macfuggers left I saw Rose out of the corner of my eye on the great hall landing. She stood glaring her upraised fists clenched. Returning to the castle I heard distant doors slamming. The three exprisoners, the Baron and Mr and Mrs L K L in the library. All bent over tomes. I went searching for some privacy. Found a likely vaulted doorway in the northwest wing at the end of a long passage. I pushed against the heavy oak. Locked. Then opening. And Erconwald confronting me with a bow.

‘Ah it is you kind person. I have retreated within here due to the disconcerting number of encounters one has in various chambers and passages.’

‘What were the exprisoners doing with that palm tree.’

‘Ah we have found many interesting specimens in your conservatory. Indeed there is a selection of orchids. I have taken the liberty of having four put in my bedroom. I did not want to trouble you. And the palm tree, in fact several,
have been placed among the mambas. They are now quite content. Would you like to see them, they are through here in an adjoining room.’

‘O my God.’

‘You mustn’t alarm yourself good person.’

‘The wheels are off your car.’

‘Ah we regret that quantities of air have escaped through leaks in the tyres requiring us to make repairs.’

‘How long will that take.’

‘The tyres are at the crossroads waiting for the morning train. Franz at the moment is most excited. We may have favourable tidings for you soon.’

‘I should like the digging and drilling in the hall to stop.’

‘I deeply grieve to hear of your feelings in this matter. May I be bold enough to yet hope that you might reconsider and allow Franz to continue so that we may present you with good news. Indeed I hope you will not think it ill of me to make immediately a temporary amend.’

Erconwald standing his hands folded in front of him. Tears in his eyes. Ledgers open on a great oak table. Walls covered with axes, coils of fire hose and pram like vehicles supporting red water tanks. Erconwald reaching into his trouser pocket. Taking forth a wad of white bank notes. Peeling them off and holding them forth.

‘What’s this.’

‘For the unforgivable inconvenience we have caused you. Pray take it. It is offered merely as the merest of
compensations.
From the very deepest recess of my heart I ask that you will not refuse this pathetic token.’

Clementine taking the money. Erconwald bowing. The afternoon light fading across the high barred windows smothered in cobwebs. And hanging from the far wall are shackles and chains. An open cupboard with black jackets and leather gaiters.

‘I am pleased kind person. It has been unfortunate for me that I have been many times disappointed. In both science and love. One of my very earliest attempts at romance was unhappy. I pursued for three months a young
lady whose figure I thought to be quite robust. My desire for her was extremely feverish. And one evening while attaching a flower to her bosom, in my nervousness I pushed the pin deeply into her breast. She did not complain, indeed she smiled, and my most earnest hopes were dashed. Upon, if I may say, the level surface of her chest. And kind sir it does not escape me that Rose looks upon you with favour. I would only humbly ask that if your intentions are not profound that you do not entice her away. And I speak no further. Please. Come here. To this door. With your indulgent permission which we hope to seek, we have made a peep hole. See. There they are.’

‘Holy heifer.’

‘The one in your palm tree you will see extends its body out more than half its length. Note the exquisite stillness it possesses. Yet in an instant that delicate small green head can bring death. The specimen lying coiled on the right is an older specimen. Unfortunately agitated at the moment and one cannot enter.’

Erconwald’s impenetrable courtesy. From a little pocket casket he offers me a cheroot. His white long delicate fingers closed over the dark fibres. His emerald glowing mamba green. He waits ready to administer a kindness wherever the opening yawns. Might be found at any street corner
shepherding
old ladies in an ever constant stream across the roadway.

‘Good person might my associates and I be permitted to examine your testicles.’

‘Wait a minute.’

‘But of course.’

‘I mean wait a minute.’

‘Ah I do understand your quite natural hesitation to grant scrutiny of your gonads. But I assure you it will be entirely painless and conducted with every dignity that such an exploration might require.’

‘Who told you about my testicles.’

‘Ah, it is good person, a rumour we have heard. We merely want to measure and weigh, and should it be
necessary,
to tabulate as well.’

‘I’ve not even found my feet in this place and you guys are trying to count my balls.’

‘Permit me Kind sir.’

Erconwald putting aside his sweet scented cheroot and undoing his trousers. Frowning as a button pops off and rolls in a circle on the stone floor to disappear down a drain hole.

‘What are you doing.’

‘Good person I am displaying to you my own organs of regeneration so that you should not think me unmindful of another’s trepidation in doing so.’

‘Please stop.’

‘Would it not help for you to be made easier in this matter by my presentment.’

‘No.’

‘I am distressed that I have failed to reassure you.’

Clementine backing towards the door. Erconwald’s fly wide open. Might have an apparatus quite out of the
ordinary.
Coils up and strikes like one of his snakes. Seems like years ago I sat alone cold and damp in the library thumbing through the ledgers. Pages of inventories
flashing
by, the Porcelain Room, Pump Room, South Cloisters, Verandah and by the look of this one I’m trying to get out of, it must be a combination guard room and fire
department.
Adjoining what is now the snake pit.

‘Please Erconwald don’t get upset. I just can’t see that anything can be gained by your showing me your privates. I’ve always been unreasonably shy about exhibiting my own. I think a little girl playmate may have laughed at them once, something like that. But good lord if you feel that way about it, show me.’

‘Thank you good person.’

Erconwald undoing his belt. Dropping his trousers and lifting up shirt tails to uncover a large and somewhat
engorged
copulatory machine and pair of balls. His privates with an athletic quality about them absent from the
delicate
rest of his person. How long is one required to look. Can’t see this gives me the nerve to flash mine.

Clementine turning as the door behind squeaks open. A head peering in. Of a strange female face. A lady of riper years in a thick white wool sweater over a flowered skirt of a dress. Her smooth skin and wet lips. A smile breaking on her face as she looks from Erconwald’s privates to the raised eyebrows of Clementine.

‘Ooo. I’m awfully sorry. Do carry on. Sorry, I mean to say I was just looking for someone. Who might help me. As I am completely stranded about two miles from here without petrol. But I beg your pardon. Clearly I’m
intruding.
I must have come in the wrong way. I do believe I’m lost. If someone could just tell me how I get out, I’ll go
.
Instantly. I do apologise.’

Erconwald bowing. Most embarrassing to witness during this stranger’s conversation Erconwald’s private
protuberance
horizontally stiffening out and jumping up and down between his stripey green, blue and white shirt tails.

‘Well, won’t you say something someone. I know this is cruelly embarrassing but good lord I don’t know my way out. Please help me. A gallon of petrol would get me to the next town. I’m on my way to visit friends. Please
believe
me I had no intention of barging in this way. Into what is clearly a very private moment.’

‘I’m just being shown his regenerative organs merely to accustom me to showing my own.’

‘I beg your pardon, I don’t think I quite follow you but surely it doesn’t matter. Do you know who the owner of this place is.’

‘I am the owner.’

‘O. I see. Well would it be possible for me to buy a gallon of petrol. I do apologise most contritely to you and your friend. I know I seem to be persisting here at the door but quite honestly I’m covered in mud and have been scratched with briars in my struggle to get in here at all. I’m really feeling quite wretched.’

‘Erconwald. would you mind if this lady stepped in and waited while I get Percival.’

‘Most surely madam you are deeply welcome.’

‘Simply awful to gate crash like this but honestly I am at my wits’ end. I tried one door and fell down steps. I heard water below. It quite has frightened me.’

Erconwald attempting to get his penis back into his grey flannel trousers tugging them up and turning away from the visitor. Buttoning above and below the projecting
waving
organ while stepping backwards and stumbling into a fire apparatus. The lady visitor pushing back on her
forehead
a wave of greyed blonde hair which keeps falling. I’m going to make a run for it. Taste blood on my lower lip where I have bitten myself.

‘I’ll be back. Quite quickly. If you feel you’re all right madam.’

‘Yes, may I just sit down please.’

‘Of course. You’re all right Erconwald.’

‘Yes good person. And ah to you madam my most profound apologies if I have in any way given offence. I don’t think it has subsided sufficiently for me to return it as promptly as one might wish into the privacy of my trousers. I will of course deflect my front away from you and do hope you will not think me discourteous if I speak over my shoulder.’

‘Quite frankly young man provided that it’s not to be used, ha ha, on me, I don’t in the least mind. Do for heaven’s sake if you are more comfortable, sit down.
Honestly
I’m quite grown up. I have, ha ha, seen them before.’

‘Ah truly madam is most kind, generous and of modern demeanour.’

‘Please don’t apologise, I am after all a total stranger intruding as well as I believe, trespassing.’

‘Well folks, please, I’ll just run off now. And be back shortly.’

Clementine heading south along the passage. Towards darkness and a door at the end. Opening out into the great hall. Saw a dangling rope of a clapper to a fire bell one could have pulled. Announcing to the castle a viewing of an erection. Ring in series of two and continue until
assistance
arrives. Whole mob could have descended. Upon Erconwald’s prick upended. The recent elevation measured
by Franz. To fire salvos at a growling Rose dancing in strangling poses among the mambas. As the rest of the household assembles and sambas. And all maybe later to scrimmage awhile.

Clementine hastily through the door under the grand staircase. Could get lost going down these steps. The air colder. Which way. To the kitchens. Of which according to the ledger there are six. Push open this white door. Explore while one is on the way. Give Erconwald ample time to get it back into his trousers. And out of the sight of that woman who has a rather musical laughter. Which might keep Erconwald’s pecker up till the cows come home. Or he gets blown.

A room the walls lined with cupboards from floor to ceiling. Barred windows peeking out on the courtyard. Shelves with earthenware pots. Cloves, cinnamon, bay leaves. A spice room. The scientists could add seasoning to the distillate. Of which Erconwald must slam back a dram for breakfast. Get it to pop up and poke the stranded lady right on the red bump on her nose. Between pretty blue eyes. Which will sparkle throughout the eight or nine years of good screwing she must have left. Tonight my first social engagement. And I’m searching for petrol. To motor a matron out of this menagerie.

Clementine pushing through another door. A large candle lit room, round stone pillars holding an arched ceiling. Cavernous fireplace with iron gears, chains and skewers. Along a wall a vast black cast iron stove. Batteries of pans hanging on racks. A girl catching her breath. As she turns suddenly with a dripping ladle in her hand.

‘Lord save us.’

‘I’m sorry to barge in. I’m looking for Percival.’

‘Sir I do be thinking he is down the tunnel doing a bit of fishing, sir.’

‘I don’t believe I know who you are.’

‘I’m from beyond sir, a friend of Imelda. She asked me to give her a hand and I’m after stirring up the soup for tonight’s dinner. A gentleman was down before with the onions to put in the cauldron. We have this hour before been trying to prise the pig loose from the darknesses
beyond
in the tunnels and into the pot, Imelda and Mary are after him this minute.’

‘Fine.’

‘Is there anything now I can do for you sir.’

‘No thanks.’

‘Thank you sir.’

Clementine stopping in the spice room. One comes away from that confrontation trembling in every limb. A girl of flowing dark hair. Slender white arms from the blue rolled up sleeves of her sweater. Go back and ask her name. One more mortal on the staff. An incredible beauty found down in the cellars. Move her higher up in the castle to stardom.

‘I’m sorry to trouble you again.’

‘Ah it’s no trouble.’

‘But I don’t know your name.’

‘Charlene.’

‘Ah. That’s a nice name.’

‘It is after me grandmother’s. She worked here in the castle her whole life, died out beyond there in the laundry room by the stables where she lived her last fifteen years, never did she stir out of it till they took her in her coffin, she was fond of the warmth from the few heated pipes. She loved folding the linens and stacking them in the airing cupboards that you would cut your hand on the edge of them.’

‘Are you permanently here.’

‘I wouldn’t know sir. I would be thinking that you would be the one to say sir.’

‘I hope you’ve heard that I may not be able to get around to steady wages but I think I can manage to reimburse you now and again. Would this be enough for the moment.’

Clementine pulling the wad from Erconwald out of his pocket. Charlene wiping her hand on a thick grey skirt and
taking the large white bill. Holding it out pinched by her hand, a little dirt under her worn fingernails.

‘Sir there’s no need to give me this. What use have I for it with pucks to eat and a place to sleep.’

‘You’re staying in the castle.’

‘I am sir. I have my own room above.’

‘Ah.’

‘It suits me fine. I am crowded with me family with seven little brothers and sisters. We only have the one room and a loft above. It’s a nuisance at times to get a night’s sleep with the scratchings and kickings.’

Boots and thick brown stockings on Charlene’s legs. She smiles when she talks with white teeth which look like her own. A little mole next to her nose. Castle full of surprises. Jammed with arrivals. Those summoned by morse code and others crawling through briars. Wake up out of haunted death throes on one side of the ocean and gallivant with big bosomed ravenous dolls on the other. Charlene’s are from the bulges in her sweater of refined proportions.

‘The soup smells good.’

‘It’s only a few old ingredients put boiling in a pot, same as we do at home. I’ll be bringing you some fish tomorrow when my father comes in with the boat. Do you like fish sir.’

‘Yes.’

‘Would you like it fried.’

‘That would be nice.’

‘Well I’ll do that. Miss Ovary was saying she’d like to do a bit of shopping in the town, so I’ll fix the fish for you. I’ll tidy up around here a bit as well. Have it clean as a stone after the rain.’

‘Don’t you find it gloomy down here in the dark.’

‘Not at all. Sure I’ve never been fond of the outdoors lashed by the wind and the rain. With the stove going it’s nice enough here.’

Clementine taking one last sip of this delicate creature. A tiny figure under the massive stone ceilings. Alone down in these damp endless cellars. Got to save her from that kind of life. And fix up some light duties nearer my apartments.

‘I wonder Charlene if you could direct me to the tunnel where Percival is fishing.’

‘Surely sir, it’ll just require a candle or two. Now if you come this way. Past the spice room and the downstairs pantry.’

Charlene opening a thick oak door into a room. More shackles on the walls. Under an archway and down circling steps. A narrow tunnel at the bottom. A stone alcove with two iron gratings in the floor.

‘Down there sir are the dungeons. They be an awful dangerous place. They put them poor creatures down into them on a ladder and you couldn’t get out with a lifetime of trying. The sea waters get into the lower ones, full of dead bones. They would shovel the food down to them through the bars there. With them fighting over it among themselves and the rats.’

The tunnel slanting downwards. Wet stones slippery under foot. The walls glistening with beads of moisture. The sound of waters and low whine of the wind. The candles wavering, Charlene’s hand up sheltering the flame. Poor Erconwald only wanted to inspect my balls and ends up with his own apparatus on display.

‘Now sir, hold tight along here to the rail. There’s more steps. There now you can see the bit of daylight ahead.’

A blue expanse of sea. Headlands and coast rising to the north. Westwards an ocean. Downwards the jutting
cliffside,
stairs cut from rock, moorings twisted and rusting. No sign of Percival.

‘I wouldn’t want sir to be causing needless worry but it’s a long fall to the sea and it wouldn’t be the first time a soul had been dragged into the deep by the monster that lurks down there in the water.’

The wind blowing Charlene’s wavy tresses back from her soft white skinned face. A pair of eyes bright blue. She bites lips red and moist. Her hands and wrists pink with chill. She stands on a step gripping an old twisted railing in the rock and leans out to look down.

‘There’s not a sign of him, you couldn’t be at the bottom there in the thrashing of them waves and ever get back up
here alive. God forbid that he went into that deep to be torn to pieces by the conger.’

‘He could have fallen.’

‘Yanked would be the case.’

‘We’d better go for help.’

‘I wouldn’t say Percival would require help sir, all he needs now is a bit of blessing as you would give to any soul of the faithful departed. He was a holy terror in his early days with the ladies but these last few days he’s made amends enough. Often I’ve seen him on the bicycle helter skelter to do his spiritual duty. As the years edge them closer to the hammer and tongs of God they soon enough get down on their knees and make friends with the on high, offering him cigarettes, mea culpas, hiccups, coughs and greasy pennies.’

‘I see.’

‘Sure if he was injured we’d see him impaled below. And if he’s been made a meal of by the conger you can forget attending to the remains.’

Charlene leads Clementine back in the tunnel. Past the dungeons, up the spiral stairs, through the pantry and
kitchens
and by a back passage and servants’ hallway to a narrow door opening into the antechamber of the Octagonal Room. Put hands up over eyes and lie next to the evening clothes neatly arranged by Percival. Dead out there on the water. Charlene said she would search through the castle. With Miss Ovary and Oscar and Imelda. One waits. Momentarily out of the castle traffic. And where is Elmer. Someone pounding on the door.

‘Come in.’

‘Excuse me sir but so far there isn’t a sign of Percival. But we’ve come upon goings on that would make the devil himself blush with shame. Sure God there is the old fire department in flames you might say with impurity. A gentleman in no fit state to be seen. Inviting us in he did. The manners on him would make you think he was asking us to a ball. Miss Ovary has run out sir beyond screaming she’d have nothing to do with the likes of the goings on. Said she did that snakes had landed upon us. I’d say she
suffered hallucinations brought on by your man not taking a proper attention to his dress. Can I get you anything now.’

‘No thank you.’

‘Sir do you mind if I say something.’

‘Please do.’

‘Well if Miss Ovary does not come back as she was
saying,
is it in order if I take over in the kitchens. She’ll have nothing to do with men and we are besieged down there by gentlemen jumping out at us from behind the
pillars
and waiting in the scullery. Would it be proper for me to tell them to hop it.’

‘Yes of course.’

‘Now sir I believe in speaking me mind. The bunch here are eating you out of house and home and not one of them lifting a finger to so much as pour their own tea. Sure one of them a beast of a woman was down there in the kitchen the middle of the night frying up rashers and eggs enough for an army, ordering me out of the way when I was trying to get the morning fires going. Are you all right sir. Is your head bothering you.’

‘Just a little pain behind my eyes.’

‘We’ll attend to that. Here now, let me put this wet cloth to you.’

Charlene putting a compress on Clementine’s forehead. Smell the moist thick wool of her skirt. Hear a clatter of wheels out over the countryside. One lies still with the lids down to receive this tender attention. Far off
tomorrows.
Please come. Without servants drowning. Our guests whipping out their tools. Haven’t the fortitude to go back down there and tell this lady there’s no sign of Percival never mind petrol. One’s head about to explode. Must stop myself sliding into decline. Already stretched out on a bed. Always a bad moment. When the first compresses get put to the brow. Just what I did in auntie’s house, the pale light out those three windows overlooking the street. The squeal of the post box on the telephone pole at night when
someone
mailed a letter. Sending hello through midnight hands, stamped and sealed, tucked in cubby holes, sliding down
chutes, speeding over land. Please do not bend. A loving thought is inside.

‘Charlene does Percival have next of kin.’

‘Not a soul sir as far as I know is belonging to him.’

‘If we find his body there will have to be a funeral.’

‘No problem. Sean the blacksmith in the town will knock up a box. Sure you have your own cemetery out there ready for him. Wash him down with a few bottles of whiskey. There’s an awful chill here now. I’ll light up these few pieces of turf and put some warmth into things. Sir, it’s the bell in the courtyard someone must be at the front door, shall I see to it.’

‘Please.’

To stare up at the ceiling where a black beetle crawls. Could feel Charlene’s breath on my face, sweet and warm. Read in an etiquette book that cohabitation with servants breeds insolence leading to the eating of the master’s smoked salmon and the liberal downing of his potables. And even to shot gun blasts. Dare the squire wet his wick where masters should fear to dip. Wanted to reach up and drag Charlene down. I am enamoured of your eyes. Globes of one sort leading to globes of another. Arse white as the cheeks of her face. Like two lamps lit outside auntie’s house. The bugs bombarded all night. When terror went
crouching
through the streets. Citizens shot dead on lawns for wallets. And when I could walk faster after I was cured I packed the gladstone bags. Booked on a steamship line and took the train to the coast. Nearly ran on the thick echoing boards down the pier shed. Auntie for six months of every year for five years lived on a ship. Said she liked the
routine.
Man in a little green kiosk stamped my passport.
Seagulls
wheeling and screeching overhead. Sailors lifting hawsers off capstans. Ship gave a whistle blast. Auntie said it’s the kind of world which will suit you over there. Give you something to
fight for. Keep up your standards. They were serving tea in the garden verandah on D deck, all second class passengers welcome. An ancient ship with narrow bows. I sat alone at a table. Saw a girl with blond curly hair and powdery blue eyes who smiled. I thought my
God this is going to be swell. And never saw her again. She lay deathly sea sick down in the bowels of the ship the whole voyage. Three hours out we were hit by a hurricane. The seas rose up black watery moutains in the darkness. The stern where I clutched looking out through the lashing spray went up and down like an elevator. Giant propellers rising from the water, shaking and trembling the vessel. I stood bundled in my racoon skin coat. Death finished stalking me on land. Now dancing with it up and down the ocean waves. Two potted palms stood either side of the restaurant entrance. A sandy haired gentleman sat across from me at my table, seating fourteen. Passengers one by one making runs for the nearest bucket. One little boy heaving right out on the table. Twelve bewildered ashen green faces
hurrying
away. Leaving this man and myself. He had an
appetite.
Polished off twelve plates of smoked salmon. Giving me a shy smile and bow of the head as he swept another
helping
on his plate. I wrote him a short note explaining that I had temporarily lost my voice. He again nodded and smiled. Asked if I played chess. He was an impetuous player, overflowing with confidence. Slowly with a positioning of knights and bishops I annihilated him. Prior to some final moments in these blood baths he would leap to his feet and pace the decks outside to revive his strategy with fresh sea air. His aggressiveness in early moves always decided me to not let him win. The few passengers who could still walk on the tilting ship crowded round. Amateur chess masters gave him advice from an elbow. Still the slaughter
continued.
Still he rose and raced to the fresh air outside,
slapping
his cheeks and shaking his head. To return and with grimaces preceded by indulgent smiles he’d move his queen into the attack. Caboom. My knight merrily shoved a spear right up the personal interior of his bishop. And his fists would clench and whiten. At one moment I thought he was going to reach across and take my silent neck into his hands and prevent me from ever taking up residence in auntie’s castle. Instead he leaped to his feet and gavotted in silent hysterics across the room. Later in the second class lounge up by the ship’s smokestacks he became a sympathetic
companion happily quaffing pints of bitter beer. He said he had tried his luck in the new world and been bested. Wore his shoes out looking for work. Stuffed newspapers to stop the soles of his feet from burning on the hot pavements. He said everyone aboard the ship had been bested by the new world. And were now being thrown deathly ill to the decks vomiting. Half the crew were out of action. And the captain put into port. While we waited below a town once levelled by an explosion. A fort up on a hill overlooking the harbour. I went ashore with this gentleman. In an old wooden church we attended Sunday services. He borrowed a coin from me to put in the passing collection tray. Some strange sadness took me and I felt tears running down my face. World so lonely. Voices in song. Raised in thanksgiving. Off key I croaked out a note or two. In transit between lands.
Tiptoeing
between the gouging‚ testicle kicking greed. Had I but just a house and lawn. Sit in during the snowy winters. Lie out in a hammock by summers. But when I came out of the navy the dirty bastards said they had an opening in the stock exchange. Running messages. And something in my father came out in me. I stood up from my seat at the interview and said come on you god damn pen pusher put up your dukes. Mr Clementine he said, are you out of your senses. He wore glasses, his hair cut short and sticking up all over his head. He was no shoulders and all hips. I felt sure violence would upset him. He said it is quite clear from our interview that you are unsuitable for the position. That summer I spent at the beach. Sifting the sand through my toes. Clocking in at an hotel along the shore. To drink tinkling glasses amid dreams of how the world should always be. Told in words brave. Agreed with nods solemn. And fairness for patrons of this bar above all. Not a bad guy here. The piano player is really president of a big
corporation.
What can you do but just play along. With the graft. Down down the steps to the lonely boarding house room. But hope to die first at a cotillion in the last second of a treasured moment caught at the end of an elegant woman’s voice, isn’t he, that man, the masterful one, isn’t he the cat’s whiskers. Madam not only that but I have three
balls to chime. Should you like. To hear bells. Or just feel. Balls.