Honeymooners A Cautionary Tale (32 page)

Okay, Jim said. —Game’s
over. Time out. Everybody’s in free. Everybody’s home
free.

I am quite happy where I am,
thank you.

I’m not going anywhere
without you, kiddo.

I don’t trust you any
longer.

So how long do you plan to
stay under there?

Who knows. Who
cares.

You’ll have to speak up. I
can hardly hear you under there.

It doesn’t
matter.

What?

Nothing matters.

What about all the spiders
and bugs under there? Creepy- crawlies getting in your
hair.

I don’t care.

The sheriff is on his way,
Jim said, and took Lindsay’s foot in his hand. He slipped the
sandal off and examined the fine blue veins so near the surface of
her skin. —You could find yourself under arrest in a matter of
minutes.

For what, may I ask? Please
let go of my foot.

I’m not hurting your foot. I
like your foot. I love your foot. You have beautiful foots. There
are plenty of laws against acting drunk and dopey in public and
giving the nosy neighbors an eyeful.

It is not illegal to lie
peacefully under one’s own bought-and- paid-for
automobile.

You could get arrested for
being a bad public joke.

I would consider it
protective custody.

Okeydokey, Jim said, and
stood up.

No man has ever really loved
me. My own father didn’t really love me.

Say what?

In my whole life. Men just
like to fuck me.

What was that? Jim said.
—About getting fucked.

Never mind.

I couldn’t hear what you
said exactly. What did you say exactly about getting
fucked?

I said to fucking forget
it.

Okeydokey, Jim said. Jim
strolled over and picked up a hose coiled at the edge of the
driveway by the house. He turned the water on at the
spigot.

Last chance to behave like a
reasonable adult, Jim said.

I said for you to just
fucking forget it.

Okeydokey, Jim said, and
adjusted the hose’s nozzle to fine spray.

3

Ralph was sitting at the
kitchen table examining what appeared to be a blue-green sandwich
in his hands and Alice Ann was sweeping glass shards into a
dustpan when Jim came in the kitchen door.

There you are, Alice Ann
said. —What do you like on your pizza?

You like anchovies, don’t
you? Ralph said.

Sure, I like anchovies, Jim
said.

What does your wife like on
her pizza? Alice Ann said. She emptied the dustpan full of broken
glass into a garbage pail under the sink. The little pyramid’s
bent, glassless frame sat in the middle of the kitchen
table.

Jesus, but I’m hungry as an
old goat, Ralph said. He turned the blue-green sandwich about in
his hands, studying it intently. —Let’s get at least one of those
pizzas with the works.

How are you guys? Jim said.
He pointed at the Band-Aid on Alice Ann’s forehead.

Ralphie Nightingale nursed
Momma back to health, Alice Ann said, and smiled, and she touched
the Band-Aid with her fingertips.

I could have been a brain
surgeon, Ralph said, chuckling, his big, round shoulders
shaking.

He even gave the little hurt
a little kiss-kiss, Alice Ann said. —A healing lick, lick. Ralph’s
got saliva like a dog’s.

You betcha, Ralph said, and
sniffed the sandwich.

So everything’s cool? Jim
said.

You betcha, Ralph said.
—Water over the dam. Let’s get moving on this pizza-pie business.
What does Lindsay like?

Where’s your wife? Alice Ann
said. She sat down at the kitchen table and began looking through a
small wicker basket of envelopes and clippings. —I’ve got a coupon
somewhere in this mess for two dollars off a king-size pizza.
Where’s your wife?

She’s pouting, Jim said.
—She’s all wet, so to speak.

I’ve never been so hungry in
my life, Ralph said. He licked at the blue-green sandwich in his
hand.

How are you going to phone
for pizza without a phone? Jim said.

We have phones coming out
our ears around this house, Ralph said. —In the bedroom. In our
daughter’s room. In the boy’s room. We’ve got more phones than you
can shake a stick at around here. Our daughter could have used a
phone here to call the sheriff. Our drama-queen daughter just likes
to run out into the night for effect. Beating on a neighbor’s door
in the middle of the night to use the phone is just a lot more
dramatic and satisfying and humiliating for her
parents.

So what happens when the
sheriff shows up? Jim said.

We’ll offer him a piece of
pizza like always, Ralph said. —Don’t forget, Alice Ann, he likes
mushrooms on his.

Now where did I put those
damn coupons? Alice Ann said.

In the first place, Ralph
said, I seriously doubt that any of the neighbors will open their
doors to our daughter. In the second place, the sheriff didn’t even
bother to come out the last time, and the time before that, he was
two hours getting here. You can’t count on anybody these
days.

Here they are, Alice Ann
said. —But they’re only for a dollar off each pizza.

Who cares, Ralph said.
—Somebody get on the horn.

Oh, Alice Ann said, but if
you get two king-size pizzas you get three dollars off.

Get two, Ralph said. —Get
four, for God’s sake! There’s not a morsel of food in this entire
house.

Eat your green sandwich, Jim
said.

Sure, Ralph said, and waved
the sandwich in the air. —King fucking Tut, remember?

What happened? Jim said, and
picked up the pyramid’s bent frame.

It had a little accident,
Ralph said. He sniffed the blue-green sandwich again and then
nibbled at its crust. —But maybe Alice Ann has something with that
pyramid-power business. Somebody better get some pizza here
pronto, I’m telling you.

Why don’t you go out and get
Lindsay? Alice Ann said. —See what she wants on her
pizza.

When Jim stepped though the
kitchen door, he was hit square in the face by a blast of water.
Jim stood where he was as Lindsay aimed the stream of water up and
down him. She circled Jim slowly, hosing him head to foot. Finally
Lindsay turned the hose off at its nozzle, and she began to coil it
up.

What do you like on your
pizza? Jim asked Lindsay.

The Last Straw

1

There's the girl, Alice Ann
said when Lindsay came in the kitchen door, followed by
Jim.

I hope you like anchovies,
Ralph mumbled, talking with his mouth full.

I went ahead and ordered,
Alice Ann said. —Ralph was driving me nuts.

I adore anchovies, Lindsay
said.

Hey, Ralph said, and waved
his half-eaten blue-green sandwich at Jim and Lindsay. —Hey, you
guys are all wet.

A sudden cloudburst, Jim
said. —We were caught without cover.

You guys are dripping wet,
Ralph said. —You really are.

God, what happened? Alice
Ann said. —You guys really are dripping wet. You'll catch your
death like that. I’ll get you some towels.

Oh, we just felt like
singing in the rain, Lindsay said. —It seemed so romantic at the
time.

What in the world did
happen? Ralph said.

We decided to wash the car,
Jim said.

I may take it on a long trip
soon, Lindsay said.

Sort of like a getaway, Jim
said. —A clean getaway.

Let me get you some dry
clothes, Alice Ann said.

Oh, don’t bother, Jim said.
—I’ll just drip-dry.

No, you guys need something
dry to put on, Alice Ann said.

I wouldn’t wear anything of
Ralph’s if you paid me, Jim said.

Let him drip, Lindsay said.
—He’s good at it.

I wouldn’t want you in any
clothes of mine, Ralph said, and pushed the final bite of
blue-green sandwich into his mouth. —I’d have to turn around and
burn the things.

Well, big boy, Alice Ann
said to Jim, what about some of my things, then?

Got anything that will match
my eyes? Jim said.

I’ve got just the cute
little number for you, Alice Ann said.

I don’t want anything, you
know, too revealing, Jim said.

It’s a little low-cut, but I
think you’ll find it suitable. Come on, hon, Alice Ann said, and
tugged at Lindsay’s hand. —Let’s get you into something dry right
now. You’ll catch your death.

I thought I was safe in this
lifetime, Lindsay said, from a death by water.

You are, Alice Ann said.
—Trust me about that.

2

Did you actually eat King
Tut? Jim said.

It was a desperate measure,
I’ll admit, Ralph said. —It was either eat King Tut or faint from
hunger. You know, maybe Alice Ann has something with this
pyramid-power business, after all.

I’ve seen everything now,
Jim said. —Old Ralph actually ate King fucken Tut. Your basic
pharaoh food.

I did. I admit it. But like
I said, there may be something to this pyramid business, after all.
I wish I had a little piece of that action. Get into some kind of
pyramid franchise. No fooling, Jim. Hey, old Jim, speaking of
pyramids, I’ve got a little pyramid of my own in the dining room. A
little pyramid of my new books, by golly. Talk about pyramid power!
Talk about prosperity!

Is it a franchise? Jim
said.

By golly, it is sort of a
franchise, Ralph said. —I’ll show it to you when the girls get
back. No, come on, let me show it to you now. You’ll want to weep
with envy in private.

Don’t forget, Ralph, I’ve
already published a book of my own. Big deal.

I know, I know, Ralph said.
He took a bottle of vodka from a paper sack on the kitchen table
and opened it. He filled two water glasses nearly full and handed
one to Jim. —I sure wish we had some ice, Ralph said, and slurped a
drink from the glass.

Jesus, Ralph, don’t you at
least have some kind of mix? Some juice of some kind? Didn’t the
girls get any mix?

Well, let me take a look,
Ralph said, and opened the refrigerator. —Nope. There’s none in
the bag either. They forgot, I guess. As late as three o’clock this
afternoon there was a gallon of fresh orange juice in here. Oh,
hey, here’s a taste of prune juice. It’s kind of old. My mom had it
here a few months ago when she was trying to move in on
us.

Old? Well, that shouldn’t
bother you one bit, Ralph. A prune- juice chaser for King Tut.
Okay, give me a hit.

Okay, here you go. Okay, now
follow me. Just walk this way, please.

Okay, Jim said, and imitated
Ralph’s shambling walk down the hallway behind him.

All right, Ralph said, and
stopped at the door of the dark dining room. —Now you’ve got to
get the picture. You’re walking down the street of a city. Up in
San Francisco, say. Or in L.A. Or New York. Some great city. And
you come upon this bookstore. A huge bookstore. It’s unlike any
other bookstore you’ve seen in your lifetime. With great shining
windows.

Windows that gleam in the
sunlight. And great pyramids of brand-new books are being displayed
behind the gleaming windows of the great bookstore.

Okay, Ralph, I get the
picture.

I mean, Ralph said, all the
world’s bestsellers are on display. And not only that, but
collected works are on display. There’s a whole window of
Hemingway’s books. Every book Billy Faulkner wrote in his lifetime
has been reissued and is on display in this great bookstore’s
windows. All the writers you’ve read and admired. All the books
you’ve loved in your lifetime. They are all in print with shiny new
covers and they are stacked in pyramids in these gleaming display
windows for all the world to see. And right there among them is
your own book. Get the picture, old Jim?