Elephant Bangs Train (4 page)

'Sure is a lot of mail, Mister Mailman.'

'That's right.'

'A million googies, I bet.'

'Something like that.'

The wall ate all the letters. I got a letter from my friend Nicky Jango.

You're lying, Charles.

'I'm not!'

There, the mailman heard, look at him looking.

Well, Nicky plays with me, you stinky voice, here comes his mother I'm afraid, Mrs. Jabootch, I don't think Charles and Nicky should play anymore.

'Well, so long,' said the mailman.

Opening the door, Mister Mailman, closing the door, I am just an old coloured man.

Get ready, Charles. Go get your clothes and all the things the dogs the dishes don't forget matches and let's go through this door, you're free

First, let's vote.

Get out of my way I'll open that door.

HERE COMES THE BEARDED MAN

In his beard stepping slowly down the sidewalk he comes forever he will say how's it going, man.

Charles the good opens the door for him.

'How's it going, man.'

'They found a carrot in my brain.'

'Sounds like a weird trip.'

Down the bearded stone man goes down the hall all gone.

Well, it's about time Charles opened the door and went out in a white suit through the air

Sunlight crossed the door glass slowly. Charles watched
ten thousand years.

Help I can't move!

'Charles, what are you doing here?'

Mommy lady held me someone's mommy voice behind

'You didn't go the store, did you?'

'I'm the doorman.'

'Come upstairs, Charles. You're too sick to go the store today.'

Today

The Bird Watcher

T
HE
TREES GLISTENED
in the morning sunlight as Twiller walked down the road with a pack on his back, singing

My heart sighs for you

Tootsie Rayder had sung that song at the junior high school talent show. She'd worn a low-cut gown, and at the last minute the guidance counsellor made her cover up with a handkerchief but she won anyway.

My arms long for you

Please come back to me

Vincent Ferrara, the accordionist, had played
Lady of Spain
. Now he and Tootsie walked home from school together every day along the railroad tracks and it was said they performed the act in the abandoned switchman's shack. Twiller wished he could play the accordion instead of the clarinet, which honked whenever he blew in it.

He turned off the road on to the ballfield, climbed the right field fence and dropped down beside the smoking dump. It was the end of town.

Alongside the dump was an old grey house.

Twiller walked to the rear of the house and down a flight of broken wooden steps. Knocking three times softly on the cellar door, he called, 'Hello, Spider.'

The window curtain parted for a moment, then closed, and the door opened.

'Come on in, man.'

Twiller stepped into the underground kitchen of Spider Pronko. It was small, dark, and lopsided, with newspapers piled in the corners. Spider sat back down at a card table, where he was drinking a cup of black coffee. Twiller stood looking at a newspaper photograph pasted over the kitchen doorway. It was Spider's old man. He was in jail.

'Comin' tru.' A voice came at Twiller from the dark bedroom and he stepped aside. Cleaning Lady Pronko came through in pink fur slippers. She had a face like a bulldog and knees like walnuts.

'Don'tchoo go no place wittout doin' dem dishes,' she said, pointing to Spider's cup and saucer.

'Here, man.' Spider threw his cup into the sink, where it shattered.

'The Boy Scout,' said Cleaning Lady Pronko, slapping past them into the bathroom.

Spider walked into the bedroom and opened a bureau drawer.

'Should I bring the rod?'

'No,' said Twiller. Spider's rod was a cap pistol with its chamber bored for real bullets. Gene Autry's face was on the handle and a thick rubber band was wound around it and over the hammer, giving it enough force to shoot a .22 calibre shell. When fired the bullets came out of the barrel sideways in a ball of flame. On their last camping trip Spider fired it into a pile of leaves and burned the woods down.

'Yeah, I'd better leave it,' he said, closing the drawer, 'I'm low on ammo.' He went back to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, taking out a bunch of bananas and a loaf of bread, which he dropped into a paper bag.

The bathroom door opened. Cleaning Lady Pronko stepped out and grabbed the bag from Spider. 'Where you goin' wittat?'

'On a goddamn camping Boy Scout trip!' Spider grabbed the bag back and kicked the refrigerator door shut. A small plastic madonna trembled on top of the box. 'Let's blow,' he said. They went out the door and up the steps.

'When ya comin' back?' called Cleaning Lady Pronko.

Twiller turned to answer, but Spider took him by the elbow. 'Just keep walkin', man.'

They walked up the street and into a narrow alleyway, where they stopped at a small white house among the garages. 'Crutch' Kane was waiting for them on the porch.

'Morning, fellas,' he said and, swinging a pack on to his shoulders, limped down the stairs. He'd been run over by a beer truck several years back, and his right knee was the size of a grapefruit. His mother waved from the front door.

'Goodbye, Stanley.'

'
Goodbye, Stanley
,' mocked Spider Pronko, smudging Crutch's glasses with two fingers. Crutch's mother often used Cleaning Lady Pronko around the house.

They walked up the alley on to the brick avenue and marched along on the streetcar tracks, Spider singing

She jumped in bed

And covered up her head

And said I couldn't find her

I knew damn well she lied like hell

and I jumped in bed behind her

Twiller and Crutch were wearing their Boy Scout uniforms. Spider wore a black sweat shirt and dungarees. The Scouts of Troop 7 were gathering at the end of the block in front of the old stone church. Spider ran into the crowd. Twiller and Crutch followed, slinging their packs against the wall of the church. A large man with braids on his shoulders and badges on his hat blew a whistle. The patrol leaders gave their commands:

'Beaver Patrol, fall in!'

'Flying Eagle Patrol, fall in!'

'Water Snake Patrol, fall in!'

'Fox Patrol, fall in!'

'Lone Wolf Patrol,' said Twiller, 'fall in!' Crutch Kane fell in. Spider Pronko was gone.

'Report your patrols,' said Scoutmaster Ramsey, removing a notebook from his vest pocket.

'Beaver Patrol, all present and accounted for, sir!'

'Flying Eagle Patrol, all present and accounted for, sir!'

'Water Snake Patrol, all present and accounted for, sir!'

'Fox Patrol, all present and accounted for, sir!'

'Lone Wolf Patrol,' said Twiller, 'one man missing, sir.'

'Where is he?'

'Latrine, sir.'

'See that he gets in line. All right, fellows, stand by. We're loading the cars in a few minutes.'

Twiller did not attempt to get Spider Pronko in line. Twiller had no advanced rank in the troop as he was unable to identify birds, and if he gave Spider the command to fall in, he might get punched out.

Mister Snow, the senior adviser of the troop, waved to Twiller and Crutch. 'In this car, men.' They picked up their gear and climbed into the back seat of his car. Mister Snow was an expert on birds and Twiller was afraid of him.

'Mister Snow was in the trenches,' said Crutch, pointing to a medal hung on the dashboard. 'Ever hear 'im talk?'

'No,' said Twiller. Mister Snow was drill master of the troop. Twiller loved to drill and occasionally he won the weekly drill match, but Mister Snow never remembered his name.

'You hafta get 'im going,' said Crutch.

The front door opened and Spider Pronko crawled in, carrying his paper bag. 'We're shovin' out.'

'Hey, Spider, gimme the old Boy Scout Handshake,' said Crutch enthusiastically, holding out three fingers.

'Here, man.' Spider gave him one finger.

Mister Snow climbed into the other side of the car and slipped behind the wheel. He put his hat on the seat and started the motor. 'Very well, men, we're off.'

With green flags waving from their car aerials, Troop 7 pulled on to the road and drove from the city into the wooded hills. The sun was rising over the mountain tops. A deer darted across the highway and stared at them from the trees.

Spider Pronko whispered into the back seat, 'I shoulda brought the rod.'

'Look,' said Mister Snow, pointing out the window, 'there's a red-hatted nuthatch.'

Twiller looked. The trees went by in a blur. Beside the highway ran a sparkling river. Twiller watched the flashing water and thought about Tootsie Rayder. He'd never held a girl, except once when the troop gave a signalling demonstration at the Deaf and Dumb School and he'd danced with a girl who couldn't talk.

'Hey, Mister Snow,' asked Crutch, 'you were in the trenches, right?'

'That's right.'

Spider sat up. 'What kinda rod'ja have?'

'A revolver.'

'Ever shoot anybody?'

'Listen,' said Mister Snow. 'That's a purple-throated gee-gaw. He says
geeble, geeble, geeble.
'

The river disappeared in the lowland as they climbed higher up the mountain. They rode for an hour, then turned off the highway and bounced down a dirt road into the forest. Scouts waved and cheered. Crutch shouted, 'O.K., fellas!' and gave the Boy Scout Oath sign out the window. Twiller saw a lake gleaming through the trees.

'Here we are,' said Mister Snow. They drove into a field, and parked alongside a large stone lodge in the trees. Twiller and Spider opened the doors and jumped out. Crutch followed and fell down.

'Careful, men,' said Mister Snow.

'My knee fell asleep,' said Crutch, crawling to his feet and saluting a tree.

Scoutmaster Ramsey blew his whistle.

'Lone Wolf Patrol, fall in!' said Twiller. Crutch Kane fell in. Spider Pronko was gone.

'Fellows,' said Scoutmaster Ramsey, 'we're here as guests of the lodge and I want a good clean camp.'

Twiller saw an old woman in an apron standing on the front porch of the lodge. Behind a sunlit window on the second floor, he saw a face. It was Spider Pronko. Spider saluted the assembled troop with his middle finger and disappeared from the window.

'There's going to be a hike,' said Scoutmaster Ramsey. 'All those going on it meet at the footbridge behind the lodge. The rest of us will work on merit badges—cooking, signalling, and so forth. Choose your campsites carefully and don't set the woods on fire. Here are your bunk designations.'

The Lone Wolf Patrol was assigned to the front porch. Twiller and Crutch carried their gear to the porch. Spider Pronko's paper bag was already there.

They stowed their gear and went into the lodge. Mister Snow was standing in front of a large stone fireplace, looking at the stuffed head of a doe.

'I smell food,' said Crutch. They looked through a doorway, into a large kitchen. In front of the stove stood the old woman. Alongside her was a girl in tight blouse and faded blue jeans.

Crutch stuck his head through the doorway.

'Hubba, hubba.'

'Let's not collect around the kitchen, men,' said Mister Snow.

Twiller and Crutch went out the back door of the lodge and caught sight of the girl through the kitchen window. 'Boy,' said Crutch, 'I'd like to get her in my sleeping bag.'

'Forget it,' said Twiller. 'One of the Eagle Scouts will get her.'

'I can't forget,' said Crutch. 'I want to give her the Scout Handshake.'

They walked into the field behind the lodge, and down to the footbridge, where the hikers were gathering with their packs. 'Hiking eats it,' said Crutch, limping towards the rippling stream.

Eagle Scout Billy Dalton, leader of the march, went among the hikers, adjusting their packs. 'Not coming, Twiller?'

'No,' said Twiller. Dalton had told him he had the stuff to become an Eagle Scout. At first Twiller had believed it, but now he knew he'd never make it. He'd been in the troop three years and his only merit badge was bookbinding.

'Hey,' said Crutch, 'a prisoner.'

Scoutmaster Ramsey and Mister Snow came across the field with Spider Pronko marching bowleggedly between them. 'Spider wants to go on the hike,' said Scoutmaster Ramsey, turning Pronko over to Eagle Scout Dalton.

'Yes sir,' said Dalton. 'Fall in on the end, Pronko.'

Spider fell in. Crutch gave Twiller the elbow. 'Watch how long old Spider stays in line.'

The troop bugler stepped on to the footbridge and blew
Begin-the-March
.

'Hey, man, blow that bugle up your ass,' muttered Spider Pronko and the march began. The hikers crossed the footbridge and disappeared into the trees.

'Look,' said Crutch.

The girl was standing in the back door of the lodge.

'Let's have a catch in the field,' said Twiller. He could do some fancy pitching. She might see him from the doorway or the kitchen window.

'Naw,' said Crutch, 'baseball eats it.'

Mister Snow came up behind them. 'What merit badge are you men working on?'

'Bird-watching, sir,' said Twiller.

'What is that bird on the limb right there?'

'Purple gee-gaw, sir.'

'That is a chestnut-sided hong-wobbler.'

'Yes sir.'

'Carry on.'

Twiller and Crutch saluted and walked along the edge of the field, peering into the trees for birds. They went past a rope-tying class in front of the lodge and on down the dirt road. When out of sight of the lodge, they ducked into the woods.

Ahead of them through the trees was a small log cabin. They went quietly towards it and looked in the windows. Twiller pushed the door open and went in. The cabin was empty.

'Nobody's been here all year,' said Twiller, stepping through spider webs. He climbed up a wooden ladder to the second floor of the cabin. Beneath the sloping roof was a small straw bunk, covered with dust.

'Hey, Crutch, it's nice up here.'