Frog (70 page)

In California, at a party, lots of pot's smoked and wine drank, he gets tired and says he'd like to go, Lulu says she'd like to stay, “All right, stay if you can get a ride back but if not, I really have to go; I can barely stand up.” “Will you be able to drive?” and he says “Fine, if I go in the next ten minutes,” so she asks around, gets a ride back with Rust, “Oh that guy, Mr. Horns. He'll probably want to jump you two minutes into the ride,” and she says “Don't be a dopey; be thankful he's giving me a lift or I'd bug you all evening for taking me away,” and they kiss good-bye and he drives home, pays the babysitter. He's asleep, wakes up, pats her side of the bed, maybe she's in the bathroom, falls asleep, wakes up an hour later, walks through the house thinking maybe she started reading on the couch and fell asleep, goes into her son's room to see he's OK, “Mommy,” Carl says without waking up when Howard lifts his foot off the floor and puts it under the covers, goes back to sleep, is jostled out of it sometime later and she says “Howard? Listen, Rust and I are in the living room,” and he says “What time is it?” and she says “Late, getting to morning, and you were right, we are sort of making it—do you mind my telling you this?” and he says “I predicted it, right? You shared one of his fat joints, got hot when he started talking about his money and deals, so nothing's stopping you two. That fucking guy; someone ought to do it to his wife and see how he feels. Anyway, what do you want from me? I'm tired. You want to do it?—you always did with him—do it, the hell with you,” and he turns his back to her, thinks what is he doing here? she's in her bathrobe? she probably already fucked him; there's nothing to them anymore and it's only her kid keeping him here which is silly, fucking stupid, and she says “Don't go to sleep, and don't get so angry. All we've been doing is kissing, feeling each other a little and now he wants to ball me and I said I wouldn't while you were in the next room but would if you joined in with us. So would you want to? Rust said he'd go for it if it's the only way he can ball me, so long as he doesn't have to stick his pecker in your ass—that's the way he put it—or do anything with his mouth to you. For I'd love to make it with both of you in the same bed, and I sure don't want it with him on that clunky couch or floor out there. And you mentioned it with me and another woman if we found one we both agreed to, so why not the other way with me?” “Carl,” and she says “He's dead to the world, and we'll lock our door just in case he gets up.” “No lock,” and she says “A chair up against it,” and he says “That never works. One push and it falls over.” “Up tight under the knob, which I'm sure Rust can do if you can't. And if Carl asks why we locked it, we'll say we were having an all night bull session, something he's used to and the chair was where one of us was sitting. Or at worst, not that I like carrying it this far, we were all getting high and didn't want him to get any of the smoke. But he's not getting up so long as we don't rant and scream during it.” “All right, all right, but no homosexual stuff whatsoever—not even handholding. It's you and me and you and him and that's it, even if I think I might puke halfway through it.” “Hey listen, I thought I was nice including you in. But if you don't want, I can always go to a motel with him if you have no crucial objections and don't mind looking after Carl,” and he says “It's OK, you want it and I'd like to get laid too.” “Great,” and she goes, comes back with Rust. He's only in his briefs and is holding the rest of his clothes. “Hi,” Howard says, “Hi,” Rust says; “where should I put these?” and she says “On the floor or the chair, or even in the closet—we've plenty of hangers,” and he says “No, I'm not that fussy,” and puts the clothes in a neat pile on the chair, shoes on the floor underneath it. “Wait, we need the chair for the door, don't we?” and puts his clothes on the dresser, shoes underneath it, wedges the chair under the doorknob several times till the door won't budge. “Now what?” and she says “Get in bed, you funny guy, ladies in the middle,” and takes off her bathrobe, Rust his briefs, and they get on the bed, Howard still under the covers. They all lie back, look at one another, smile, Rust says “Anyone care for a quick toke?—it's in my pants,” and she says “Too much of a fuss.” “So why don't you two start?” Howard says, “since you were doing it,” and she says “You're such a joke,” and kisses his mouth and turns over and kisses Rust and strokes his penis and he puts his hand between her legs. After a minute Howard says “So am I supposed to be doing anything while this is happening?” and without looking she reaches her other arm over, feels around the sheet till she grabs his penis through it. “Jesus, you're stiff,” and Rust says “Is he? I feel plenty sexy too but can't get my bloody rudder up yet.” “It's probably the situation,” Howard says. “This room and our bed and that I'm used to her, but I'd think if it was the first time with her you'd get something going. Don't worry, it'll come.” “If it doesn't I'm going to feel awfully stupid,” and she says “I think I can fix it,” and shakes it, jerks it, flutters it, rolls it between two hands, blows on it and says “Up, funny fellow, up—because when I squeeze it, you know, it looks like it's got a helmet on,” but nothing happens. “Maybe if you sucked it,” and she says “I don't want to, not with Howard in the same bed. Either of you wants to give me head, that'd be okay.” “I'll do that,” Rust says, “I love your bush, though I won't guarantee it'll help me. It should though, right? Or what if you did it to Howard and I'll watch? It'll be nothing strange for you and then I'll go down on you and we'll see where to take it from there,” and Howard says “I'm sick of this shit, let's just get it over with,” and pulls her down on her back, she says “Whacha doing, sweetie?” gets on top and she says “We're not doing that yet—hey, hey, man, too fast,” but he holds her down while she tries to get up, forces her legs open, sticks it in and in a few seconds comes. “You rat, that wasn't nice,” pushing him off her and he turns his back to them, stiffens his body for expects her to hit him with her fists or kick him, says “Go on, go on, do it any way you like with him now, I'm turning in,” and Rust says “I better split, he's mad as hell, next thing he'll be beating on me,” and gets off the bed—“I'm not beating on anybody, you schmuck”—and starts dressing. “Hey wait, Rust,” she says, “—hey Howard! Apologize, say something to him or he'll think you're creepier than you showed—Screw him, I'll see you to the door,” and they leave the room, Rust going out in his socks or bare feet so he's probably carrying his shoes. Howard shuts the light, faces the wall, hears the front door open, then close in a few minutes and she comes back and turns on the overhead light. “He wanted me to take a drive with him—do it on the beach if we have to—and I would have but didn't want to come back for my clothes and have to explain things to you. You're really something. A bastard. You had to show off your dick and your overquick comes. You'll be lucky if he looks you in the eye again. Anyone could have done what you did. Squirt squirt, you're finished—not a hint of finesse or sensibility or any originality to it. I'll never do it with another woman and you, for I know you'll only use it to get your kicks watching us screwing and then lay her and humiliate me. Hey, come on, you hear me—you're not sleeping. Well jerk yourself off for the next week, for I'm sure not getting in bed with you,” and she leaves the room, probably for the top of Carl's bunkbed. He tells himself even if what she said might have something to it, he's got to get out of here; it's no stinking good and will never improve.

In California, doctor friend calls and says would he like being one of the subjects in a series of medical experiments of various psychoactive drugs at the hospital he works at? Twenty dollars a session, once a month for four months and each time a different drug. Sure, he says. “Maybe you want to talk it over with Lu first?” “Nah, sounds interesting and I can use the extra money and it fits in perfectly with my day-off schedule at the store.” He tells Lulu what he'll be doing the next four first Mondays of the month and she says don't. “It could mess up your head.” “What're you talking? It should be fun, the money's good, and I've for a long time wanted to see the inner doings of a medical research situation. And all they'll be testing is my breathing, blood, motor control and anesthetic use of the drugs too with a few pinpricks to my toes, and one other thing, but all safe and clear and at the V.A. hospital on the ridge, so not that far.” Gets up early for it, has half a bagel and coffee though was told not to even rinse his mouth after twelve last night, drives there. His friend comes into the room while he's having blood taken out of his arm and says “I won't be around for it but you're in very capable hands. If there's any trouble, which nobody's expecting, they'll know how to bring you right down, and results here will be in a paper read by scientists of several disciplines around the world.” They prick his buttocks and feet, have him squeeze some instruments with his hands, run in place, breathe through an oxygen mask for a few minutes, give him a cardiogram and put him on some other monitoring machines. Then they give him the drug in liquid form in a water glass. He asks what it is and is told it's synthetically made, this one from a lab in France, but that's all they're allowed to tell him except that it's never been used in research on humans before or available on the street. “How'd the animals take it?” and the aide says “No adverse reactions in any kind of way.” He gets high in a very short time. The aide says “Feeling different yet?” and he says “You bet, I'm flying,” and the aide says “Try to hold down the images and reports of them while we take more blood out of you,” and he says “I doubt I can take a needle of that size this moment.” “It isn't that long,” and shows it to him. ‘Three inches, and not all of it goes in you, and then only in the fleshier less sensitive part of the arm,” and he says “It looks about a foot long and a circumference of a hotdog and I can see all its barbs. One, two… five of them. That thing will rip through my vein and cause a bloodbath.” “Howard, you're hallucinating a little. Could a hand be more than nine inches long? and look at the needle in comparison to mine. But we're not so naive where we don't expect some overreactiveness of the mind too, so let's put you through a few of the less anxiety-causing tests and then go back to the blood one when you calm down.” The aide puts his hand behind Howard's foot and says “Did you feel that?” and he says “No, what?” and the aide says “That's because I didn't do anything. You're alert, not fooling around with us, good. Some subjects though—it's all high, getting stoned, nothing else, as if they're only here to enjoy themselves and the staff are their pushers.” Then the aide jabs Howard's foot with something sharp, holds up a pin while Howard's screaming and says “Took it out of my new shirt this morning, though sterilized it of course. Wasn't that bad, admit it,” and he says “It was like you poked me with a knife. I don't want anything like that again either.” “Howard, please don't be difficult,
please
. You didn't strike me as a fake when you came in and I still don't think you are. But there are tests to be done, you contracted to do them, so begin accepting that. Better they be done without warning you again, correct? because then you'll even get more anxious.” “No no, you're right, I'll try. But just go easy on me for a while.” “Will do,” and he shakes Howard's hand. Another cardiogram, some things for his hands to squeeze and feet to push, couple of reflex tests and then the aide puts the oxygen mask on him and tells him to relax and breathe normally. After a minute he feels he's running out of air and points to the mask and the aide nods and looks away and Howard takes it off. “You sure there's anything in there?” and the aide says “I'm sure; now on, I'm afraid; we spoke about this,” and looks tough and puts it back on Howard roughly. He wants to do what he's being paid to and he doesn't want to do anything that will look bad for his friend, but after about thirty seconds he feels he's being smothered and takes the mask off. “I'm sorry; even if your saying the mask's doing the opposite of suffocating me, the point is I feel like I am, so you should be satisfied with that part of your research.” “It's not part of it. We don't care what's in your head. What the machine's monitoring of your breathing is part of the research, but it's not monitoring you're short of breath. But OK, you're uncomfortable, we don't want you to be that, so we'll put this off. But not forever, Howard. We have a well-populated lab ready and waiting for your samples and if we don't give them more readings and blood and urine—” “Urine I'll give you plenty of. In fact I have to pee.” “I don't want your urine now. But they'll be getting paid a whole day for nothing. You know what that costs? And do you know we only have so much government funding for this research? And do you know the government's been penny-pinching on this kind of research for the last three years because they think guys like you will only want to take advantage of the free drugs? So what are we going to do now, Howard, what in goddamn's name are we going to do?” “I don't know.” “One thing we're not going to do is get tough with you. But also don't give us any further troubles with these goddamn tests.” “You just did get tough. You threatened me.” “I threatened you?” “You did, in words, mannerisms and voice.” “I threatened him?” and he turns around to his assistant. “I didn't see you did,” the assistant says. “I didn't, that's why you didn't see. Howard's off on a hallucinatory bender and we're tired of hallucinations. They're boring, they're stupid, they're of no use.” “You're still threatening me with your voice and words and I'll have to take my ass out of here if you do it again. I didn't volunteer here to get roughed up by you.” “I'll tell you why you volunteered, Howard—want it straight? It wasn't for the twenty bucks every month. No, I won't tell you, I'll keep my big trap shut, because you shouldn't be getting more anxious by what I say. So I apologize to you, Howard, sincerely and without equivocation, and Miss Doris, our research assistant today, is my witness I did. Now please now, go along with us on these tests. Trust me that your fears are all in your head, both of me and the pain and suffocating and such, and what's in your head can be easily removed by not thinking of it, OK?” “I'm sorry but I can't, except for the push-pull stuff with the hands and urine if you want and cardiograms and easier things like that.” “Perhaps to reassure you more let me get the doctor whose research this is, busy as he is and disturbing as this interruption might be to him, but let me get him, Howard,” and he goes, comes back with the doctor. “What is it, Mr. Tetch, something bothering you about all this?” the doctor says. “That's natural; so go along with it,” and he pats Howard's leg and turns to go. “Wait. I was saying to him—Kennedy—that I can't go along with any of the tests but the stress and reflex and maybe a little jab or two with the pin on my feet, but the blood and oxygen are too much for me. If it's the drug that's doing it, what can I say? But you're a scientist involved in these things, so you should know that if it feels that real to me—” “Do you know who you are telling his business to?” the aide says. “One of the foremost psychopharmacologists in the country and probably the premier researcher of psychoactive drugs on this continent.” “Shut up, you,” the doctor says and elbows the aide in the ribs so hard he grabs the part hit, winces, bites his teeth. “That's it, I'm done here—not even push-pulling the squeeze things,” Howard says. “You guys are going crazy over this. Where are my shoes? Where's the locker I put my things in?” “I can get them for him,” Doris says. “Don't you get anything for him,” the aide says. “If you think you're leaving, Howard—” “I'm leaving, all right. Next thing who knows what the two of you will cook up for me.” “Listen, my friend,” the doctor says, “I will have none of this childish nonsense. Never has an expérimentée acted like this with me. Do what you agreed to and don't make us think you signed on only for the drugs.” “That's exactly what I told him before, Doctor,” the aide says. “I am talking. Do I need you to comment? You got us into this by letting him renege on this and that so much till he thought he was conducting the experiment, so be quiet and let me speak—Now, my friend, if you won't do all the tests we've scheduled you for, we can't leave you this way, can we?” “Get me Dr. Meyer. I want him down here on this.” “Dr. Meyer is an anesthesiologist, not in this wing, and busy in other things all morning. I believe he told you, but you are high, so perhaps you can't remember. But I was saying I'll suspend all your tests, close down my lab for the day and cause us a thousand dollars in wasted expenditures and wages, but we will have to bring you back to earth from what to you is only a big trip. The fastest way, since I don't want to endanger your life with more drugs for that, is to have my associates wrap you in plastic and stick you in a tub of ice. It's that or your consent to continue the tests after, let's say, a ten-minute break—no more.” “Let me think. Way you put it, probably best thing is to go along with you, but let me think,” while he's thinking he's got to get out of here, right now and in his hospital gown and bare feet if he has to. “Just leave me alone for those ten minutes till I can try to cool myself down.” “I can agree to that,” the doctor says, and they all go. He waits a minute, looks out the room, no one's around, very quietly gets his clothes and book out of the locker and puts the clothes on in the room, then on all fours crawls down the corridor, past the room they're sitting in talking, stands and goes upstairs. The guard at the door says “Your pass to get out.” Gave it to the aide when he came in. “Yes, my pass. It's… let me see,” patting his pants pockets, then jumps the turnstile and runs out the door. The guard yells; Howard doesn't know if he's chasing him. His car's parked in a hospital lot about a quarter mile away, up a hill, but he thinks he can make it never letting up speed. He's fast, guard's heavy, probably slow. “Hey, Howard, come on back,” someone shouts. He looks back on the run. Two men in white doctor or lab coats, neither looks like the aide or doctor from this distance, running after him, but they'll never get to him by the time he reaches the car but might by the time he starts the car and drives off. He gets to the car. Didn't lock it because he can't and he jumps in, keys in this pocket, no this pocket, oh Christ the keys and wallet and pen are in a bag in a safe in the hospital, has a spare ignition key taped in the coils somewhere in the driver's seat, fingers around from underneath, pulls it out, tears the tape off, puts the key in, won't start. “Don't do this to me,” he says, “don't. Please, God, get it moving.” Men getting closer. Forty feet. Other about ten feet behind the first. Never saw them before. Not lab coats but one in a white sweater, other in a pink shirt. Car starts up. Pink Shirt jumps on the hood, rolls off it when the car moves. “Fuck you, you stupid putz,” Howard yells, not stopping. “Wanna get killed for this, get killed.” White Sweater stands to the side of the road, shouts “My friend's hurt bad, sir. Help me get him back to the hospital in your car, he seems unconscious,” and Howard shouts “Bullshit, and tough shit,” and keeps driving. In the rear-view he sees Pink Shirt standing up, brushing himself off, White Sweater going to him. “Yiippee-hoo-ha!” he says when he's out of the hospital grounds, “you ain't gonna ice no super city kid, you hicks,” and slaps the dashboard and punches his palm and then grabs the wheel again when the car suddenly swerves. Steady, drive carefully, watch out for cops, he tells himself, you're still zonked. Gets home. Lulu's outside, says “The hospital called just before, wanted to know if you were back. I said ‘So soon?'—Boy, are you ever high; I can see by your eyes.” “You can? I escaped from them. They wanted to dunk me upside down in ice water when I wouldn't go along with their smothering and bleeding me to death.” Tells what happened. She says “They want you to come back right away. They'll even come and drive you if I can't, as they don't want you behind a wheel and they can't have you running around loose.” “Never going back, except maybe for my wallet and keys and pen in a few weeks,” and falls to the ground, sticks his nose in the flower bed she was weeding. “Ah, flowers, how I missed them.” “You, the original brick and block man? Their shit's nothing new.” He grabs a couple of loquats off the tree in the front yard, rips off the outer layer of one and says “How come we never eat these?” and bites into it. “Fyeh, it's sour,” and she says “People only snitch them off the lawn for jellies and jams, stupid.” Carl comes out. “What's he doing? He's supposed to be in school. I'm feeling so good I thought we could have a little morning sex.” “He only goes afternoons, don't you remember? You should take a shower and just go to sleep. You might think everything's beautiful and lovey-smoothy, but you look and smell disgusting and are in terrible shape.” Phone rings. “If it's the hospital,” ne yells to Carl who's running inside to get it, “tell them to stick it.” “Shush,” she says. “Don't teach him ugly manners and words.” Carl yells out “It's Alan.” Alan says “Let me get you and bring you back. I promise I'll stay with you and they say no more tests. All they want is you to be here till the drug wears off, as they don't want you doing anything irrational in your condition and losing them their Public Health funds.” ‘Tell those sadists if they don't let me stay here till I come down I'm going to rob a bank and blame it on the drug they gave me.” “I'll tell. But I should have known better with you. You guys will do anything to have another dramatic experience recorded or just a great anecdote to tell about your endless battles with the establishment. Just, when you get it all in writing or pour forth about it over some beers, make sure you change my name or at least don't say I'm still your good doctor friend.”