Berlin Alexanderplatz: The Story of Franz Biberkopf (41 page)

Why does that shoulder hurt me so, they’ve hacked my arm off. Why does that shoulder hurt me so, my shoulder hurts me so. Where is Mieze gone? She’s left me lying here alone.

They hacked my arm off, off with it, my shoulder hurts, my shoulder. The dirty dogs, my arm’s gone, they did it, the dogs, they did it, the dogs, arm off, and they left me lying there. My shoulder, my shoulder, it hurts, they left it on, but if they coulda done it, they woulda torn my shoulder off, too. They woulda torn my shoulder off, too. They woulda torn my shoulder off too, then it wouldn’t hurt so much, damn it. They didn’t take me for a ride, the dogs, they didn’t manage to do that, they didn’t have much luck with me, the lousy skunks, but now it’s no good either, now I can lie around forever and nobody’s here and who’s going to listen to me bawling away? My arm hurts so, my shoulder, them dirty dogs sure woulda liked to run over me and give me the whole works. Now I’m only half a man. My shoulder, my shoulder, I can’t stand it any more. The damned skunks, the skunks, they smashed hell out of me and what’ll I do now? Where is Mieze, anyway, leaving me lie here like that. Ow, ouch, ow, ow, oooooooh.

The fly crawls and crawls, it’s now in the flower-pot, the sand trickles off it, but it doesn’t care, it shakes off the sand, it pushes its black head forward and creeps out.

There sitteth upon the many waters Babylon the great, the mother of harlots and abominations of the earth. She sitteth upon a scarlet colored beast, having seven heads and ten horns, for all to behold, that all may see. Each step thou makest delighteth her. She is drunken with the blood of the saints whom she hath rent asunder. Behold the horns wherewith she doth gore, she ascendeth from the bottomless pit and goeth into perdition. Behold her, the pearls, the scarlet, the purple, and the fangs of her, and how she clencheth her thick, close lips, wherein blood hath flowed, and wherewith she hath drunken! Whore of Babylon! Golden yellow thy venomous eyes and bloated thy throat! And she laughs you to scorn!

Forward, in Step, Roll of Drums and Battalions

Look out, old man, when the shells fall, there’ll be dirt flying around, forward, step high, straight on through, I gotta get out, forward, all they can do is smash my bones, drumdumm, druummmmmmmmmm. In step, one two, one two, left right, left right, left right.

Franz Biberkopf marches through the streets with a firm step, left right, left right, don’t pretend to be tired, no saloons, no boozing now, we’ll see about it, one ball wing’d by death came flying, that’s what we’d like to see, if it’s sent for me, I’m down, left right, left right. Roll of drums and battalions. At last he breathes easy.

Marching through Berlin. When the soldiers go marching along through the town, oh why, just Why, that’s why, that’s why, just because of tararara, tararara, tararara, just because of tararara taraboomdeeay.

The houses stand still, the wind blows where it will. Oh why, just why, that’s why, that’s why, just because of tararara taraboomdeeay.

*

In his dirty dreary room-dirty room, oh why, just why-that’s why, that’s why, just because of tararara taraboomdeeay-sits Reinhold, the guy from Pums’s gang, when the soldiers go marching along through the town, from the doors and the windows the maidens look down, reading the newspapers, left right, left right, is it meant for me or thee, he reads about the Olympic Games, one, two, and that pumpkin seeds are a remedy for tapeworm. He reads this very slowly, in a loud voice, to cure his stuttering. When he is alone, it goes smoothly enough. He cuts out the bit about the pumpkins, when the soldiers go marching along through the town, for he once had a tapeworm, probably has it still, maybe it’s the same, maybe it’s a new one, the old one has spawned a youngster, must try those pumpkin seeds, gotta eat the skin as well, not peel it. The houses stand still, the wind blows where it will. Skat Convention in Altenburg, I don’t play. A world tour, all expenses only 30 pfennigs a week, that’s another swindle. When the soldiers go marching along through the town, from the doors and the windows the maidens look down. Oh why, just why-that’s why, that’s why, just because of tararara taraboomdeeay. A knock at the door, come in.

Attention! March, march! Reinhold’s hand flies to the gun in his pocket. One ball wing’d by death came flying, is it sent for me or thee? Torn away from life and dying, As at my feet he’s lying, He seems a part of me. He seems a part of me. There he stands, Franz Biberkopf, his arm’s gone, a war-cripple, the fellow’s drunk, or maybe not? If he makes a move, I’ll bump him off.

“Who let you in?” “Your landlady.” Take the offensive, the offensive. “That bitch! Is she crazy?” Reinhold goes to the door: “Frau Tietsch! Frau Tietsch. What d’yuh mean? Am I at home or ain’t I? When I say I ain’t at home, I ain’t.” “‘Scuse me, Herr Reinhold, nobody told me nothin’.” “Then I’m not at home, damn it! Why, you might be lettin’ God knows who in here.” “Maybe you said it to my daughter, she runs downstairs and don’t say nothin’.”

He slams the door to, holds on to his gun. The soldiers. “Whatcha want here? Wha-whatta we got to say to each other?” He stutters. Which Franz is this? You’ll find out soon. The man’s arm was run over some time ago; he was a decent fellow once, y’can take an oath on it, now he’s turned into a pimp, we’ll discuss later on, through whose fault. Boom of drums, battalions, there he stands. “Gee, Reinhold, you got a revolver!” “Well, what of it?” “Whatcha want to do with it? Whatcha after?” “Me? Nothin’.” “Well, then you can put it away, cantcha?” Reinhold lays the 1:lIn on the table in front of him. “What’re you comin’ up here for?” There lie stands, there he is, he socked me one in the hallway, he kicked me outa the car, before that nothing was wrong, Cilly was still around, I went down the stairs. “It all comes back. The moon above the water, a glaring, blinding evening moon, the ringing of bells. This time he has a gun.

“Sit down Franz, say, you musta taken a few drops, heh?” The fellow has got such a vacant stare, he must be tight, he can’t leave boozing alone. That’s probably it, he’s tight; but I’ve got the gun, all right. It’s just because of tararara, taraboomdeeay. Franz sits down. And is seated. That glaring moon, all the water gleams. He sits beside Reinhold. That’s the man he had helped with the girls, one skirt after another he took off his hands, then he wanted to get me to stand watch, but he didn’t say a word, and now I’m a pimp, and who knows how it will go with Mieze, and that’s the situation. But that’s all in his thoughts. Just one thing is happening really: Reinhold, it’s Reinhold sitting there.

“I just wanted to see ye, Reinhold.” That’s what I wanted; to look at him, look at him, that’s enough, and here we sit. “You probably wanta put the screws on me, blackmail, on account of that time, heh?” Hold on, not a move, m’boy, forward march, that’s only a coupla shells. “Blackmail, eh? How much do yuh want? We’re armed. And we also know you’re a pimp.” “So I am. What kin a guy do with one arm?” “Well, whatcha want then?” “Oh, nothin’ at all, nothin’ at all.” Just sit light, hold on firm, that’s Reinhold, that’s the way he noses around, only watch out he don’t knock you down.

But Franz is beginning to tremble already. There were once three Kings, who came from the East, laden with incense, which they swung to and fro, and they kept on swinging it to and fro. They envelop us in smoke. Reinhold reflects: either the fellow’s tight, then he’ll go soon and that’ll be an end of it, or maybe he wants somethin’. Nope, he wants somethin’, but what? He’s not after blackmail, but what then? Reinhold gets some liquor and thinks to himself, I’ll worm it out of my Franz this way. If only Herbert hasn’t sent him here to spy on us and then get us in Dutch. As he puts down the two little blue glasses, he notices that Franz is trembling. The moon, the glaring white moon, has risen over the water, and nobody kin look up, I’m gone blind, whatsa matter with me anyway? Look, he’s all in. He’s tryin’ to keep a stiff upper lip, but he’s all in. Reinhold certainly is relieved, slowly he takes the gun from the table and puts it in his pocket, then he pours out a drink and looks again: why, his paw is all trembling, he’s got the shivers, he’s just plain yellow, the big noise, he’s either afraid of the gun or of me, well, I won’t hurt him. And Reinhold is very calm and friendly, you bet. It’s great to see him shaking like that, no, he’s not tight, Franz ain’t, he’s afraid, he’s going to smash, he’ll be doing it in his pants and he wanted to tryout his big mouth on me!

And Reinhold starts talking about Cilly, as if we had just seen each other yesterday; she stayed with me again for a coupla weeks, yes, such things do happen, if I haven’t seen one of ‘em for a coupla months, I didn’t mind havin’ her again, it was a kind of a revival, it’s a funny thing. Then he gets some cigarettes and a pack of smutty pictures and some photographs, Cilly also is in the lot, along with Reinhold.

Franz can’t say anything, he keeps on looking at Reinhold’s hands, he’s got two hands, two arms, and I’ve only got one; with those hands Reinhold pushed me under the car, oh why, that’s why, I oughta bump him off maybe, just because of tararara. Herbert thinks, but all that don’t interest me, what do I think, anyway? I can’t do nothin’ I can’t do nothin’ at all. But I’ve gotta, didn’t I wanta do some thin’, oh just because of tararara taraboomdeeay. I’m not a man at all, I’m just a lily-livered fool. He sinks down into himself, and then, still shaking, he emerges, back to life again. He sips a cognac, and then another, what’s the use, and then Reinhold says softly, very softly: “Say, Franz one o’ these days, I’d like to see your wound.” It’s just because of tararara taraboomdeeay. Then Franz - that’s it - opens his coat, and points to the stump in his shirtsleeve. Reinhold scowls: it looks disgusting, Franz closes the coat. “It was worse before.” Then Reinhold looks again at his Franz, who says nothing, and can do nothing; he’s as fat as a hog, and he can’t open his mouth, so Reinhold keeps on grinning at him and can’t seem to stop.

“Say, d’you always wear your sleeve in your pocket like that? D’you always stick it in, or is it sewed on?” “Nope, I always stick it in.” “With the other hand? Nope, probably before you start dressing, dontcha?” “Well, sometimes one way, sometimes the other; once I’ve put my coat on, it don’t go in so good.” Reinhold stands beside Franz and tugs at his sleeve. “But you oughta always look out you don’t put it into your right pocket. They might easily pick your pocket that way.” “Not with me.” Reinhold is still thinking about it: “Say, how do you manage with your overcoat, must be very uncomfortable. Two empty sleeves.” “Why, it’s summer now. That don’t start till winter.” “You’ll see, it won’t be so easy. Why couldn’t you get yourself an artificial arm, when a fellow loses his leg, he gets himself a false leg, don’t he?” “Because he can’t walk without it.” “You could have a false arm hooked on, it looks better.” “No, no, it only presses on you.” “I’d either buy myself one, or I’d stuff the sleeve out. Say, let’s do it.” “What for? No, I don’t want to.” “Then you wouldn’t be runnin’ around with your sleeve flappin’ like that, why it’d look very nice, nobody’d notice nothin’.” “What would I do with it? I don’t want to.” “Come along, wood’s no good. Look here, a coupla socks or shirts in it, look.”

And Reinhold sets about it. He pulls the empty sleeve out, shoves his fist up into it, and, going to his chest of drawers, he starts stuffing it with socks and handkerchiefs. Franz tries to stop him. “What’s the use, it ain’t got no hold, it’ll get like a sausage, aw, leave it go.” “No. Look here, you oughta get a tailor to do that for you, it’s gotta be braced up, why, it’d look twice as well, and you wouldn’t have to go around lookin’ like a cripple, you’d just have your hand in your pocket, that’s all.” The socks fall out again. “Yep, that’s a tailor’s job. I can’t stand cripples, to me a cripple’s a fellow who’s good for nothin’. When I see a cripple, I say, better get rid of him altogether.”

Franz listens and nods, he nods a lot. He begins to tremble, he can’t help it. He’s somewhere out on the Alex, with the burglars, everything’s been taken from him, probably connected with the accident, it’s his nerves, got to see about that. But something’s tearing at him, making him shudder. Let’s get away, downstairs, bye-bye, Reinhold, got to blow, in step now, right left, right left, taraboomdeeay.

So stout Franz Biberkopf comes home after he’s been to Reinhold’s, his hand and arm shake, and he is still shivering, the cigarette falls out of his mouth, as he reaches home. Mieze is sitting upstairs with her gentleman-friend, waiting for Franz, to tell him she’s going away for a couple of days with her beau.

He draws her aside. “You certainly act nice to me.” “But Franz, what am I to do? Oh Lord, Franz, what’s the matter?” “Nothin’, beat it.” ‘Til be back tonight.” “Beat it!” He almost yells it. She looks at her gent, gives Franz a hasty kiss on the nape of his neck and is gone. Downstairs she phones Eva. “If you got time, do go see Franz, what’s the matter with him? I don’t know. Please do come.” But Eva can’t manage it, Herbert is damning and cursing her all day long, she can’t get off.

Meantime Franz Biberkopf, the cobra, the iron warrior, sits alone, all alone, he sits at his window, clawing his hand around the window-sill and wondering if it isn’t a lot of tripe, a damned lot of bunk, going to Reinhold’s place, and the hell with it, and that’s all bunk, when the soldiers go marching along through the town, bunk, and a dumb trick, I’ve gotta get out of it, gotta do something else. And in the meanwhile he thinks, I’ll do it anyhow, I’ve gotta go there, no use goin’ on like this, he’s made a fool of me, he’s stuffed my coat out, I can’t tell nobody about it, did anything like this ever happen before?

Franz leans his head heavily against the sill, and digs himself in, he is ashamed, bitterly ashamed: that’s what I’ll do, to think I let ‘im get away with it. what a damn fool I am, shaking in my boots before him. Huge is his shame, and strong. How Franz gnashes his teeth, he could tear himself to bits, I didn’t want to do it, I ain’t yellow, am I, even if I have got only one arm?

I’ve gotta go to him. And he spreads himself. Evening has come when Franz makes up his mind, and gets up from his chair. He looks around the room, there’s some brandy over there, Mieze put it there, I won’t drink. I won’t feel ashamed. They’ve got to look Franz in the eye now. Yep. I’ll go over to him. Bim-bam-boom, the cannon, trumpets. Forward, downstairs, coat on-and him wanting to stuff it out. I’ll sit down in front of him, and this time I won’t bat an eye, no, sir.