Further Adventures (30 page)

As soon as I sat those cramps came out with a Personality of their own & folded me over double. The fumes of rotten juices poisoned my bowels. “Artie” McGovern does not pull his punches on fighting “bodily swamp gas” he instructs you should expel it pronto unless such Action will lead to Social embarrassment. Nor it is not healthy to flinch from Relief. “PAIN IS THE ALARM OF HARM”—! So as per expert advice I rubbed my lower stomach ready to Expel then right on the verge of it footsteps walked across the tile floor. The door on the other cubicle swung open & banged shut then came this Voice—

“Why shouldn’t I
Well why not?
Why the stinking hell—” Lamont Carruthers fighting a drunk argument with himself and losing.

On my side the pain got too sharp I had to relieve it. I let off a loud one P-P-P-THUUT!

“Who’s that? Who’s in there?” Lamont pounded on the partition.

“Me.”

“Green?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” A slow hiss from him which turned into a breathy sigh informed me he did not care if I could hear him he let one off louder than mine—H-H-HUUUUUUUUUH-THUT-THUT! “Aah,” he moaned. “That bastard’s ruined my health.”

“My stomach’s churned up too.”

“Yeah,” Lamont sympathized. “The end is nigh.” And one more fart speared into the toilet bowl. “Gad. Listen to that. He poisoned me don’tcha know.” Then I think I heard him sob.

“Are you usually regular Mr. Carruthers?”

“What?” He sniffed. “Like clockwork. Twice a week.”

“The experts say you ought to be moving your Bowels every 24 Hours. At least.”

“Move ’em where? Omaha?”

“They advise senna leaves.”

“Are you the world expert on other people’s bowel movements Green?” Another jet of rotten air breezed out of him. “Ooh! Bastard!”

I believe all barriers fall down in the Men’s Room & we can be men together honest & equal. Nor I did not hold anything back from here onward since both of us were in the same boat constipation-wise. Except I was not slobbering drunk on top of it.

“I wrote my stinking
heart
out on this one Green. They think they paid me off. Spiller and that jellyfish Silverstein.” THUUUUUUUUT! “Watched me type The End…and then…” PHUT-PHUT-PHUT! “…told me to empty out my desk. The End. Well…
bull!
”

My own cramps kicked & rolled over each other then I thought I must be spraying blood already—PHTHTSSSSS-SSSSSSS-SSSSS-HHUUUUUHSSSS!

“Hah! You said it! Nice one Green! Hah!” He laughed so hard he choked on it until a phlegmy cough rounded things off. I heard him spit. “I don’t have to apologize to anybody…for anything. I’m
honest
Green that’s my problem. Don’t lie to myself about the world & I won’t lie to anybody else about
how things are
. Some people you have to rub their noses in the truth for their own good.” He ground out a dry fart that died away like the groan of a small animal. “The truth’s always a pain in the ass. Wouldn’t you say?”

“That’s my experience.”

“You better believe it! The end is when all the truth comes out. That’s how you know it’s the end. I know what I know…”

“What do you know? What things Mr. Carruthers?”

“Ooh! Aah! A blade…of fire…’s going up me!”

I waited until I heard him breath regular again then I asked him very direct, “Do you know the reason…why they killed off The Green Ray?” He answered me by a moan. “Can you tell me why P. K. Spiller—”

“Ooh! That cheddar cheese gissum.”

“What about it?
What about
The Cheez Skweez?”

“Sonofabitch fed it to us…his human guinea pigs…aah! Ooh!” PHUUUTT-THUUUTTT! Very slow & word by word I asked Lamont my big question again. Somehow I broke through the fog of rum punch & he answered me somewhat sober. “He’s afraid,” Lamont warned me. “Afraid of The Green Ray. Every action’s got its equal and opposite reaction don’tcha know.”

“I don’t understand. Spiller is afraid of me? Why would Mr. Silverstein…”

He sang to himself, “Silverstein bone connected to de Spiller bone…de Spiller bone connected to de Liberty Broadcasting bone…Now hear de word of de Lord!”—PHUTTT-HHHUUUUUUUSS-THUTTT—“That’s a gasser!”—THUT—“Better. I feel much better.” And he went into a heavy silence which he only shook off to blurt strange sayings like, “Gravity is my sweetheart…Ooh! She’s my mortal enemy…” Also, “I gave my typewriter to Mrs. Shapiro…” Also, “Science is the king of knowledge!”

I tapped my fingers on the wood. “Are you all right?”

“Gad,” Lamont said. “I feel terrible. Have to clean myself out. Empty it out of me before I fade into yesteryear. Green?”

“I’m still here.”

“I’m going to tell you where you come from!”

“Me?”

“The Green Ray.” Then Lamont said, “Truth is I got the idea out of the
National Geographic
. Read about how when the sun sets in cer
tain latitudes under certain conditions right at the exact second it sinks under the horizon—if you watch it then you can see the surface of the ocean
turn bright green
. Supposed to appear there like a sheet of green ice that melts as soon as you see it. How d’you like that—as if
looking at it
makes it melt.”

“There really is such a thing?”

“They don’t make things up in the
National Geographic!
I’m not
lying
to you Green. Based on fact. Absolutely. Scientific fact. I base the episodes on facts. That’s what scares him. I told him if he wants somebody to help him broadcast a comic book he can find himself another boy. I said it to him at the beginning. I meant ’em then & I never stopped meaning ’em.
Don’t threaten ME!
he said. You think I can seal my integrity in a safe deposit box? My
artistic
integrity I’m talking about Green. Seal it in a tin can bank account and take it out for Christmas when it’s
convenient
for everybody? Well I want to be stinking
inconvenient! Ain’t be difficult!
he says. Every time I want to interject a little intellectual
verve
. You hear me?”

“Verve.”

“Verve! That’s it! Pep up the dog vomit with a few serious ideas. A little
gravity
.” Lamont let one go it sounded like his rear end sputtered out the word HOCKEY-PUCK. “I’ll tell you a fact about William Shakespeare. He was a
popular entertainer
in his time just like I am today. His competition was bear baiting. Mine’s Fibber McGee and Molly. Look at Hamlet. What’s the story? Revenge. Don’tcha know. A thrilling revenge story with murder for a motive and a sword fight for the big finish. The gravity? The poetry? That sonofabitching genius
sneaks
it in while everybody’s wondering when that bastard king is going to get it in the neck! I’ll tell you what Green—if William Shakespeare was alive today he’d be writing radio shows.”

“You mean he’s taking us off the air because he doesn’t like your scripts anymore?”

“P. K. Spiller couldn’t tell a quality script from a manhole cover. What he doesn’t like is the idea of The Green Ray hounding him.
What’s Lamont going to dig up next week? What other ghost of my past gets exposed?
He didn’t know how far I’d go.”

“You let me get blown to smithereens. I disintegrated tonight. You went
that
far.”

“Don’t be a whiner. It’s a beautiful way to go.”

“I still don’t know why I had to go
at all
.”

“Oh brother!” Lamont snapped. “His revenge! Revenge makes the world go round! It’s the only motive there is. Ownership is the revenge of dependence. Science is the revenge of confusion. Love is the revenge of loneliness. And vice versa. Around and around. Since the earliest times Green it’s recorded in the Bible. What’s the big mystery? A swift kick in the balls—that’s the revenge for telling the truth.”

“My balls just got in the way is that right?”

“You were my mouthpiece.” He dropped his Voice down low exhausted & faint. “They still perform the works of William Shakespeare but mine just get flushed into outer space. Radio waves vibrating out there forever. For the mutants on Mars to tune in.”

Out of kind Consideration a person might say all is not lost even if he does not believe it is true for giving Comfort repays a person with Comfort the same. “I don’t know how else to make a living,” I confessed & gave Lamont the chance to comfort me but he did not reply. “I look into the future & I’m scared to death I’ll end up living on handouts in a rundown neighborhood somewhere. My apartment’s going to be a lonely place. Where I sit in my underwear all day in a chair in the middle of the living room and I cut out paper dolls or do crossword puzzles for entertainment. I eat dinner out of tin cans. And tubes. I don’t know who my neighbors are. Mr. Carruthers? I’ll think back to this exact conversation and wonder if I’m living my life backwards. A big success in the beginning & I wind up in a heap at the end. Is there only one way
to go from a pinnacle? Down and down. What scares me is this feeling I can’t think of a good reason to live anymore.”

His Voice of Experience leaked in under the cubicle door. “Yes…I think that’s very…depressing. Yes. Very…bleak,” he said & I could barely hear him.

Everybody decides on his own personal Solution to his troubles and I heard by the firm way he flushed the toilet Lamont made his Mind up what he was going to do.

“Good-bye Green. I miss you already.”

“Good-bye Mr. Carruthers. I’ll miss you too.”

He left the hot water running hard & over the foaming noise of it I heard Lamont hum the music of The Green Ray. “Think they can give me the air. I’ll take the air when & where I want! I’ll show ’em fear in a handful of dust la-dee-doo-dah.
ET
cetera! You hear me Green?”

“I do.”

“Remember—he who doesn’t remember the past is doomed to forget it.” His footsteps clicked away with him mumbling curses at P. K. Spiller.

Lamont’s sad words returned to my ears—his good-bye & his curses his anger & his disappointment his high belief in Revenge. And a Red Alarm bell went off in my skull. What if I pushed him into a Drastic idea by all my bleak talk about the only way off a pinnacle is Down etc.—!

I ran down the stairs I sprinted into the Executive Dining Room nor I was not too late to see Lamont standing on the marble window seat with a fresh glass of rum punch in his unsteady hand. “And another thing ladies & gentlemen…” Lamont uncoiled his finger & aimed it like a Death Ray straight at P. K. Spiller’s chest. “He’s a damned imposter! This man wears a damn
corset!
”

“Come down from there Lamont,” Spiller urged him very no-nonsense.

“It’s not a corset anyway,” Ethel Spiller let him & everybody else know. “It’s a back brace.”

“For my next trick,” Lamont slurred, “I will reveal the truth about Professor Lionel Horvath. He’s—”

“Enough Lamont!”

“Somebody help him down.”

“Somebody shut him up.”

Nobody made any move toward him not even Howard Silverstein who stationed himself next to Mrs. Spiller. He kept his arms folded & hid his inner thoughts behind a patient smile & his eyes locked stiff on Lamont.

“He is…he’s…that greedy backstabber…that plundering pirate…that Black Market wartime profiteer…Meet his secret identity! Don’t be shy P.K.! Step up onstage and take a bow!” Lamont clapped his hands very limp & feeble a few times and when it looked like he was going on with his Speech a few of the Liberty V.I.P.s started clapping louder to drown him out. “Did you know ladies & gents…did you know that is…are you
aware
of the fact…” Now the Liberty wives joined in & giggled very silly at each other but Lamont raised his Voice above them all. “P. K. SPILLER DID NOT MAKE HIS MONEY BY SELLING BOXES OF DRY CEREAL! I’LL TELL YOU WHERE HIS FORTUNE CAME FROM—”

The clapping dwindled down & Spiller’s angry words Halted the rest. “That’s
enough
Lamont!”

“More than enough,” Ethel chimed in.

Lamont did not even soften his Voice for the quiet room. “NO—IT’S NOT ENOUGH OF ENOUGH! THIS DECENT MAN HERE USED TO BE THE BIGGEST BOOTLICKER—SORRY—BOOTLEGGER ON THE EAST COAST!” Then he spoke very polite to P.K. himself, “Why
did
all the whores at the Blue Moon call you Screwdriver? Or maybe I should ask Ethel. Well Ethel?” He tottered sideways & sloshed his drink.

“Make him stop Poppy,” was Ethel’s sob.

By this heartfelt plea she spurred her Hubby into action & Spiller made a grab for Lamont’s sleeve—Lamont jerked back out of his Reach then he held on to the brass window latch whereby he straightened himself up. Howard tugged Spiller away from the Excitement but he kept on barking at Lamont until his chubby face went dark red & his neck inflated he was squealing at him, “Tell everybody about
you
Lamont! Where’d he find you in ’29? You square peg! You ingrate!”

“In the stinking gutter. Oh sure! I’m not ashamed of it either. Taught me a permanent lesson that fateful day. When I lost my security—some security!—in the Crash. Found out everything I needed to know about…”—he sneered this at the whole crowd—“…human nature.”

“Who got you back on your feet? Tell them,” ordered P.K. “Go on you miserable misfit! Who gave you a job?”

“Driving a truck! You took advantage of my circumstances. Don’tcha know! I’m college educated you crumb! By Jesuits! And folks he
lets
me drive his beer wagons back & forth across the Canadian border for $35.50 a week.”

“And a Christmas bonus,” Spiller snarled very insulted.

“Oh yes. Pardon me, right. I don’t know how I would’ve made it to New Year’s without those 12 extra bucks in my wallet. I learned a lot from you P.K.”

“You never learned a blessed thing from me Lamont.”

“Not as much as I did from Karl Marx.” Every mouth in the room hushed up quiet as a clam & not so happy. “From V.I. Lenin…Uncle Joe Stalin…and Kropotkin!” Lamont bellowed this name across the dining room & shocked the Executive wives practically to Tears. “Matushka Russia! V’period! How do you like
them
red apples Howard?”

“You’re sick in the head,” Silverstein diagnosed him, “and I pity you. I just pity you to death.”