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Requiem for a Dream 2 ñòðàíèöà
Sheeit, whyent chuall leave the dude alone and letim do his thang in peace. It got to be a drag, man, to be a booger freak. Yeah, anytime he wants to lose ten pounds he just picks his nose. I should tell my sister that. She makes two of me. She really gets up tight when she sees me. Well baby, yawl just turn her on to some smack and her butter ball ass go right down the drain and ah mean right now. Hey man, you sure you aint finger fuckin yourself? Hey Harry, yawl wanna borrow a finger? Sheeit, whyent chuall get offen his muthafuckin ass? Sheeit, thats as good as pussy, right Harry? Go git it on man, git it on!!! Harry grinned as the others laughed and took time out to take a poke on his cigarette, then rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. I should have you all locked up for interferin with religious freedom. Betty made the sign of the cross at him, In the name of the father, the son and the holy booger. Harry joined the laughter and Angel turned the radio up a bit and they gradually started nodding and finger poppin in time to the music. Hey Angel, any interesting customers out there? Na, theyre all a bunch of stiffs, har, har, har. Angels head was nodding up and down as he continued to laugh, and when he spoke the words sputtered through his laughter, theyre all a bunch of dead beats. Sheeit, I bet they look better than you baby. Dont say that. I think Angel is cute. Yeah, haha, like Count Dracula. I bid you velcome. Drink you blood before it clots. Lucy giggled for a few seconds, shaking her head, Ah wonder what that dude would do here, hehehe, hed be one hungry mutha. You aint shitin man. Alls he gotta do it bite into Gogit and hed o.d. Thats a funny scene, a strung out vampire. Harry put his arms around Marion and pulled her close to him, Be cool baby, or I/ll biteya on the chroat, and started nibbling her neck. She giggled and squirmed and soon they both tired and just leaned against the wall, smiling loudly. No kiddin Angel, do ya ever get anything special in here, like some young good lookin heads? Sheeit, this muthafuckas a ghoul man. Everyone was giggling and scratching. Thats okay man, I understand. Some likeim hot and some likeim cold. Hey Gogit, watch you put into Freds stuff? Marion was giggling and gagging on a mouthful of smoke, Hey Fred, go over to the other side of the room. Id feel a lot safer. They were all laughing and gig‑glin an rubbing their noses between taking pot shots at Fred and drags on their cigarettes. The smoke was becoming so thick that the blue light made the room look as if a small part of light blue sky had somehow fallen into the room. Sheeit, ah dont care what was in the stuff, ah wants to know whats he gonna do with it? He got to find it first. There was one here yesterday that was a real doll, man. I mean gorgeous. A real knockout. A redhead. A real redhead, and built like a brick shithouse. She had a pair like this and a ass that didnt quit. Fred looked and spoke as eagerly as the dope allowed him, No shit man? How old was she? Hey, what could I tellya? About nineteen or twenty. Sheeit, aint this a bitch? This mutha worryin how old she is. Hes got scruples man, he dont wanna get caught with anyone underage. Right Fred? Everyone was grinning as broadly as possible and chuckling, their heads bouncing and bobbing. Where is she? Maybe Fred/d like to meater, MEAT? Betty was shaking her head and chuckling, You know something, you guys are sick. Hey, dont knock it. Its ecologically sound. Ya gotta recycle everything man. The faces still grinned and the heads still bobbed and the laughter got a little louder. Sheeit, yoe honky ass mutha fuckas is weird jim, ah mean weird. Yawl sound like a bunch a guhd‑damn cannibals. Hey man, whats all the static? I was just askin a friendly question. The laughter was getting a little louder and a little more energetic. Watch she die of? Who said she was dead? She was a visitor, har, har, har. The heads stopped bobbing and started shaking. Thats pretty good, eh?
Really had ya goin, didnt I? Yoe know somethin jim? youse got the right job cause yoe haid is daid baby, an ah means daid. A hand reached up and turned the volume of the radio up and the music worked its way through the blue smoke and over the chuckling and laughter. Hey, that’s mah man wailin. Everyone was nodding at the lyrics. Yeah, tellem baby, we sure do need someone to lean on. O, lean on me baby, lean on me! You dig what that mutha say about her breas be always open? What kind a weirdo is that, she close her legs? Hey Angel, why dont you be cool man. Everyones eyes were half closed from the smoke and dope, and their faces kept twisting and grinning as they leaned into the words. Hey baby, you got some space for me in your parking lot? Fred grinned and made a few clacking noises, and Lucy continued to keep her attention on the stream of smoke bending up from her cigarette, digging the difference between the color of the smoke coming out of the lit end and the other end. Lay some of that coke and sympathy on me an fine out sucker. There was some giggling, Oooooo, that one bad bitch jim. They were all suddenly silent as they listened through the dream on lines, each in their own way thinking they didnt need anyone to dream on, that this boss shit did the job just fine…
Then they all twisted into the next lines and giggled and snickered and grinned, Yeah, now youre talkin man, I need someone to cream on. Yeah, do it to me baby, uh huuuu. Lucy squinted in Freds direction, Doan look at me baby, betta see your mammy. The others worked into a slight giggle. Oooooo, she bad jim. Fred giggled as loud as he could, but still couldnt hear it himself. He tried to look at Lucy but couldnt raise his head, saving his energy to poke at his cigarette. The singing continued and they listened and savored each word and rolled it around in their heads. Harry put a new cigarette in his mouth and reached over to take Tyrones to light it, but
Tyrone moved his head away and tossed him a pack of matches. Harry looked at them for a moment, then slowly picked them up and went through the process of taking a match out, igniting it, raising it as high as he could and lowering his head as much as possible, then lighting his cigarette. O yeah, take it all baby, jus doan fuck with mah haid. O what pleasant com pan eee . Hey man, play that again. Why, who do you want to bleed on now? Sheeit, ah doan care just sos it aint mah blood. Man, the only blood I wanna see is in my dropper just before I shoot the son of a bitch back in my vein. Sheeit, you got a one track mine jim. Yeah, and the tracks are all up and down his arm. The giggling and snickering was approaching laughter as they nodded in time to the up tempo music, taking an occasional drag on a cigarette, seeing the drab gray of the concrete floor they were sitting on but not noticing it, involved with how they felt, and baby they felt gooood. The last notes were still in their heads when another tune started. Hey, you dig what they playin? Damn, ah aint heard this since befoe I started shootin stuff. Sheeit, aint no record that ol jim. Marion leaned comfortably into Harrys shoulder, her eyes and face soft in a smile. Remember when we used to dig this cat downtown? Yeah… The voice so filled with nostalgia that you could almost see the memories floating through the blue smoke, memories not only of music and joy and youth, but, perhaps, of dreams. They listened to the music, each hearing it in his own way, feeling relaxed and a part of the music, a part of each other, and almost a part of the world. And so another swinging night in the Bronx County Morgue slowly drifted toward another day.
The phone rang a second time and Sara Goldfarb leaned toward the phone as she continued to adjust the rabbit ears on her set, torn between the need to know who was calling and to get rid of the lines that darted, from time to time, across the picture, and she ooood as she tensed and squinted, leaning more and more toward the phone as it rang again, one hand reaching for the phone while the tips of the fingers of the other hand continued to tap the antenna over one centimeter at a time. Im coming, Im coming. Dont hang up, and she lunged at the phone, almost falling down in the middle of the sixth ring and flopping on the chair. Hello? Mrs. Gold‑farb? Mrs. Sara Goldfarb? Its me. Speaking. The voice was so bright and cheery and so enthusiastic and real that she turned toward the TV set to see if the voice was coming from there. Mrs. Goldfarb, this is Lyle Russel of the McDick Corporation. She looked at the phone. She knew for real that his voice was coming from there, but it sounded just like a television announcer. She kept at least one eye on the television as she listened and spoke to Lyle Russel of the McDick Corporation. Mrs. Goldfarb, how would you like to be a contestant on one of televisions most poignant , most heartwarming programs? Oooo me? On the television???? She kept looking from the phone to the television, and back again, trying to look at both at the same time. Hahaha, I thought you would Mrs. Goldfarb. I can tell just by the warmth in your voice that you are just the kind of individual we want for our programs. Sara Goldfarb blushed and blinked, I never thought that maybe I would be on the television. Im just a– O haha, I know how you feel Mrs. Goldfarb. Believe me when I say I am just as thrilled as you to be a part of this fantastic industry. I consider myself one of the luckiest men in the world because every day I get a chance to help people just like yourself, Mrs. Goldfarb, to be a part of programming that not only are we proud of but the entire industry–no, the entire nation is proud of. Harrys mother was clutching the top of her dress, feeling her heart palpitate, her eyes blinking with excitement. O, I never dreamed… Lyle Russels voice became earnest. Very earnest. Mrs. Goldfarb, do you know what programs I am referring to? Do you have any idea? No… I a… Im watching an Ajax and Im not sure… On the television???? Mrs. Goldfarb, are you sitting down? If not, please sit down immediately because when I tell you what programs I am talking about you will be dizzy with joy. Im sitting. Im sitting already, Mrs. Goldfarb I’m talking about none other than… his voice suddenly stopped and Sara Goldfarb clutched even tighter at the top of her dress and stared wide‑eyed at the phone and the television, not sure from which instrument his voice would come. When he spoke his voice was deep, low and full of feeling–Mrs. Goldfarb, we represent the quiz shows on television. Ooooooo… He waited dramatically as Sara Goldfarb composed herself, her breathing audible over the voices from the television. Lyle Russels voice was authoritatively dramatic, Yes, Mrs. Goldfarb, plus–plus the brand new, I said, brand new, shows that will be on next season; the shows millions of Americans want to be on; the shows that are looked forward to anxiously by millions– Me… me… on the–O I cant– Yes, Mrs. Goldfarb you. I know how you feel, you are wondering why you should be so lucky when so many millions would give anything to be on one of these shows– O, I cant tell you… Well, Mrs. Goldfarb, I cant tell you why you are so lucky, I guess its just that God has a special place in his heart for you. Sara Goldfarb fell against the back of the viewing chair, one hand clutching desperately at the phone, the other the top of her dress. Her eyes bulged. Her mouth hung open. For the first time in memory she was unaware of the television. You will receive all necessary information in the mail Mrs. Goldfarb. Goodbye and… God bless. Click.
Visions of heavenly angels passed before Harrys mother as the psalmist sang so soothingly to her, before the buzzing of the phone in her hand, and the exploding of a bottle of cleaner into a white tornado, dispersed them. She breathed. Then exhaled. The phone. Yes. The phone goes on the hook. Gets hung gup. Aa haaaaaaa. Clunk, clunk. She missed the cradle. She looked at the phone for a minute then picked it up and put it gently on the cradle. On television. O my God, television. What will I wear???? What do I have to wear? I should be wearing a nice dress. Suppose the girdle doesnt fit? Its so hot. Sara looked at herself then rolled her eyes back and up. Maybe I/ll sweat a little bit but I need the girdle. Maybe I should diet? I wont eat. I/ll lose thirty pounds before Im on television. Then with a girdle Im looking like Spring Boying‑ton… a little… sort of… Hair! I/ll get Ada to do my hair. Maybe they do it. Special. O… I should have asked… asked who? What was his name? I/ll remember, I/ll remember. It will come. He said they send me everything in the mail. I look good in the red dress with– No! Red doesnt come so good on the set. Isnt just right, kind of funny and blurred. And shoes and a pocketbook and earrings and necklace and a lace handkerchief O O O O, Sara nodding her head, grabbing her temples and rolling her eyes and lifting her arms, her palms turned upward, then closing her hands in a loose fist and tapping them against each other, then suddenly stopping all movements, sitting stiff in the chair for a moment, I/ll look in the closet. Thats what I/ll do. The closet. She nodded her head affirmatively and got up and out of her chair and went to the bedroom and started rummaging through her closets, taking dresses off hangers and holding them up in front of her then tossing them on the bed; crawling around on her hands and knees as she investigated the darkest and remotest corners of the closet, finding almost forgotten shoes and singing in a wordless and tuneless monotone as she dusted them off and tried pair after pair on, wobbling on some as her callused feet oozed over the sides, attacked the straps, then posed in front of the mirror looking at her shoes and her blue striped and stippled legs… O, how she loved her gold shoes, all of them. Finally she couldn’t resist. She put on the red dress. I know red doesnt come in so good on the set, but the red dress I like… I love. She posed, looked over her shoulder into the mirror… then the other shoulder, adjusted the length to various heights, started to try to zip it up but after half an inch and many minutes of exertion and squeezing and stuffing and adjusting she gave it up so she stood with it unzipped in front of her mirror, liking what she saw as she looked through eyes of many yesterdays at herself in the gorgeous red dress and gold shoes she wore when her Harry was bar mitzvahed… Seymour was alive then… and not even sick… and her boobala looked so nice in his– Ah, thats gone. No more. Seymours dead and her– Ah, I/ll show Ada how it looks. She held the unzipped back of her dress tightly as she waited for a station break, then went next door to her friend Ada. So wheres the party? Party, schmarty. This is like all the parties. When I tell you youll jump out the window. A basement window I hope. They sat down in the living room, strategically, so each could keep an eye, and ear, tuned to the television set while discussing the momentous occasion that brought Sara Goldfarb forth in the gorgeous red dress and gold shoes she wore the day her Harry, her boobala, was bar mitzvahed, an event so important and undreamed of that Sara was in such a state of shock, though ambulatory, she turned down a piece of halvah. Sara told Ada about the phone call and how she was going on television. She, Sara Goldfarb, was going on the television. Ada stared for a moment (with one ear she caught the end of the scene of the soap opera). For real? You wouldnt kid me? Why should I kid you? What am I dressing for, the supermarket? Ada continued to stare (the music told her they were fading out on the scene. She knew instinctively that a commercial was coming on even before there was that sudden increase in volume and explosion on the screen). You want a glass tea? She got up and started for the kitchen. Sara followed. The water was quickly boiled and each had a glass of tea when they returned to the living room, just at the end of the commercials, and sat in the same strategic positions, their ear and eye still tuned to the television, as they discussed and speculated on the enormity of the coming event in the life of Sara Goldfarb, an event of such prodigious proportions and importance that it infused her with a new will to live and materialized a dream that brightened her days and soothed her lonely nights.
* * *
Harry and Tyrone C. were walking through the park, spending most of their energy in trying to avoid the kids who were running around screaming or flying by on skates or a skateboard, never knowing from which end or side the attack might come. Sheeit, I dont know why they got to have a summer vacation. They oughtta keep those little muthas in school all the time. You kiddin? theyd tear the school down. This way it saves the taxpayers money. Now aint this a bitch, this muthafucka aint worked in his natural life an he worried about taxpayers. Hey man, ya gotta worry about those things. Whats the matta with you, aint ya responsible? Oooooo, listen to this shit, this stud has gone and blew his cool. Comeon baby, lets get somethin to eat, youse in serious trouble. They strolled over to a hot dog pushcart and got a couple with onions and mustard and red pepper, and a bottle of soda. When they finished they walked as far as possible from the playground and stretched out on the grass. Ya know man, I wasnt bullshit about gettin a piece. Hey baby, Im down. Well, then lets stop fuckin around and get with it. Sheeit, get with what? We aint got no braid. No shit? I thought we had money up the gazoo. That the only place we got it. Well lets stop fuckin the duck and figure out how we can pick up the bread. How much do we need? Ah dont know exactly. Couple hundred. Best be going up there with four hundred that way you knows you got enough no matter what comes down. Are you sure Brody can cop a piece for us? Man, what the fuck you talkin about? Course Im sure. Even after he take his tase we got enough to cut it in haf and double our braid and have a nice tase for us. Im hip. He sure does have some dynamite shit. But I dont want to get into it heavy man. I dont wanta blow the whole thing by getting strung out. You damn right. You be cool an we have a whole string of runny nosed dope fiens off en our shit for us. Yeah, thats the only way to go man. Ive seen cats get strung out and they blow their whole scene and end up in the slammer. Sheeit, we too smart for that baby. Yeah, they slapped palms. So where do we get the bread? Ah dont know baby, but ah dont want to go rippin nobody off. Ah aint been in no joint an ah wants to keep it that way. O man, be cool. What am I, a ganggester? The old ladys TV is one thing, but a robberys something else. We could sell hot dogs. Yeah sure, whos gonna push the cart? Doan look at me baby, ahs a salesman. Hahaha, what a scene that would be… jesus, I could see you openin the bun and me floppin a hot dog in an then we flip a coin to see who puts the mustard on. Well, lease we wouldnt be hongry. Well man, I aint worried about that. Comeon, Ty, think. There must be a way we can pick up a couple a yards in a hurry. They smoked, and squinted and scratched, then Tyrone flipped his butt away and rubbed his head, sort of stroking it to activate the gray matter… and relieve any itch he might have. You know, theres a couple of dudes that goes down to the newspaper like four or five in the mornin and shapes up to load trucks. How much they get? Ah doan know man, but ah do know that theys always wearin some fine threads an driven some really pretty shorts. Yeah? Harry looked at Tyrone for a minute. Hmmmmmmm. Whatta ya think? Tyrone was still rubbing his head, but now he was more or less caressing it. Well man, ah tellya, ah aint so hot on that workin shit, ah mean ah dont like it any more than you. Yeah… five oclock in the mornin. Jesus. I thought even bartenders were asleep at that time… but… Harry continued to stare and Tyrone C. Love continued to rub. Whatta ya think? Ah doan know baby… But ah guess we could sort of maybe go see whats happenin down there. Harry shrugged, Shit, why not? Tyrone stopped rubbing his head and slapped Harrys hand then Harry slapped his and they got up and strolled from the grass to the path, then along the path through the park to the street as a couple of sparrows swooped down to claim a few Crackerjack crumbs. Harry figured he/d go home while they were working so he/d be sure to get up on time. If I tell the old lady I got a job she/ll be sure to get me up. I guess we/ll have ta get up about four, eh? to be sure to get there on time… four oclock in the morning, that seems impossible. Then jus think a that piece a pure shit baby, thatll get your ass up. Then you come by mah crib an get me up. You bet your sweet ass. If I have to get up youre gonta get up. They laughed and slapped palms and Harry was about to turn to go and get ready to start the new routine that would make them big time dealers, when they spotted a friend rushing along the street. Hey, whats happening baby? You look like the man is afta you. Whats the rush? You know Little Joey, the cat with the ripped ear? Yeah, sure. From across the avenue. Yeah, thats the dude. He an Tiny an some other cat just copped from Windy and before Joey emptied the dropper he was gone jim. O.d. just like that. They say he just had a tase an he was out. So Tiny horns a little just to be cool, ya know, an he gets wasted jim. No shit? You straight? Ya goddamn right. Why ya think Im hustlin my ass over to Windys? I wanna get there before he finds out what he has jim. That mutha fucka got a habit thats so long even mule piss wouldnt get him high. Harry and Tyrone joined in the rush to Windys. They could always go to work some other time, but you dont always get a chance to score for some dyn a mite shit like this.
The next night they still had some stuff left, it was that good. Man, somebody sure did screw up. That stuff shoulda been cut at least a half dozen times. Sheeit, there better not be too much around jim or theres gonna be a lot a daid dudes in this town. Man, whats a couple a more stiffs in this town? Sheeit, they drive the man nuts tryin to figure whats goin down.
They were feeling mellow and realized that there was no point in thinking of going to work tomorrow morning, which was only a few hours away. There was no sense in ruining a good high with work. They decided to fall by Tonys pad to see what was happening.
The streets were filled with the actions and sounds of a summers night. The stoops and firescapes were filled with people and there were hundreds of games of dominoes and cards, the players surrounded with onlookers, cans of beer and bottles of wine being passed around. Kids would burst past the games and the players would automatically yell at them without taking their eyes off the game or missing a drink. It was a nice night. A pleasant evening. There seemed to be stars somewhere and it was easy to avoid stepping in the garbage and dog shit on the streets. A truly beautiful night.
Tony lived in a converted loft in an old industrial building. Actually what was meant by converted was that there was a bed at one end and a stove and refrigerator at the other end. In between was a lot of space. Usually the space was dotted with people getting high, getting higher, or wondering why they werent high yet. When Harry and Tyrone got there there were a few people sitting around on the floor. Tony sat in the only chair, a large, overstuffed, ripped and torn chair that had huge wings that made it look as if it was going to close itself around Tony and somehow swallow and digest him and he would end up on a shelf somewhere in the dark and dusty corner of a secondhand furniture store staring back at the cat sitting on the floor staring up at him, a not‑for‑sale sign hanging from his chest. He was watching television, the set a large old console that was the perfect companion for the chair and fit in perfectly in the loft. Tony had a Chinese water pipe hanging from a cord around his neck. The bowl was filled with hash and he took a poke, from time to time, always staring at the set. A few people were sitting around a hookah that had been filled with wine, the bowl filled with pot, a piece of hash on top. Marion had just taken a poke when Harry and Tyrone walked in. They squatted next to the others. Whats happenin man? Hey baby, whatsgoin down? Whats happenin? Same old thing man. The stem was handed to Harry and he sucked on it for a minute then handed it to Tyrone. When Harry finally exhaled he leaned back a little and looked at Marion. Hows it goin? O, the same old thing. Harry nodded toward the hookah, Thats some nice hash. Uh huh. Its really doin a number on my head. Just smoothed it right out. Harrys eyes were closed slightly and his face was relaxed in a smile. I figured that. Youre sure lookin good. Marions face burst into a sudden grin and she chuckled, Is that supposed to be a compliment, or you playing the dozens? Harry spread his arms and shrugged, his face still in a sleepy grin.
Sometimes Im not too swave when Im ripped. Marion chuckled a little louder, Maybe not, but youre a lot more sociable. You know, you have a really nice smile when you relax, like you are now. Harry laughed then leaned a little closer, I aint got no choice baby, I feel so relaxed I think Im going to melt. Marion laughed and squeezed Harrys hand, then took the hose and took another poke from the pipe then passed it to Harry. He laughed, This is just what I need now… you know, to sort of help me get rid of the tension, right? Marion shook her head and strained not to laugh as she held the smoke in her lungs. Tyrone pushed the hose closer to Harrys face, Comeon mah man, you can talk that trash later. Jus take your hit an git on with it. Harry took a poke, concentrating as hard as possible, then passed the hose to Fred. Tyrone watched as Fred sucked on the hose in one long continuous breath that seemed to last five minutes, that threatened to force the hashish to burst into flames it glowed so brighly under the force of air. Damn, this muthafucka goin to suck up that hash right through the pipe. Look see if he dont have a hole in the back of his haid, all that air gotta be goin somewheres. Fred finally took the hose from his mouth and passed it to Tyrone, a broad, dumb smile on his face, and still holding his breath he grunted, Dont get greedy baby. Tyrone started laughing, clutching the hose in both hands, and the others started giggling, and Tyrone looked down at the floor and shook his head then looked up and at Fred who still had a big shit eatin grin on his face and Tyrone started laughing harder and harder and the others started laughing and shaking their heads, unavoidably drawn to looking at Fred sitting there with that dumb grin that kept getting larger and dumber and now a momentum had been built up and no matter how hard they tried they could not stop laughing and Fred continued to hold his breath although he felt like he was suffocating and his face was flushing more and more and his eyes were bulging and Tyrone kept pointing at him and shaking his head and laughing and sputtering, Shee… Shee… and finally Fred blurted the air out and quickly sucked in some more and shook his head back and forth, Gahddamn, and the others laughed uncontrollably and Tony took another hit on his pipe and frowned at the television set as the story was interrupted for a commercial, and then a few more, and then a station break and then a few more commercials and Tony took another hit and fidgeted in his chair and started grumbling under his breath about the goddamn bullshit, he wanted to see the goddamn show not some bullshit dog eatin horse meat, and then he started yelling at the set, Go ahead ya fuckin hound, stick ya nose up her drawers. Whats the matta, donta ya like fish? Eh? Ya don’t like fish ya faggot dog bastard. The others had stopped laughing, and were finished smoking the hash for a while, and were just leaning back and listening to the music and rapping and then they started to half watch and listen to Tony and the giggles started again. Hey baby, yawl shouldnt talk about faggots like that when Harrys aroun, he get his feelings hurt. Fred stuck that dumb countryboy grin on his face, How you know hes a faggot. Maybe its just a bulldike, and he suddenly started to fall apart laughing, damn, that tickles the shit outta me, hahahahahaha, a bulldog, bulldike, hahahahaha, damn, hahaha; and Tony was still grumbling incomprehensibly and the others were giggling and laughing as they watched Fred laughing and shaking his head and whenever his laughter started to subside he/d start blithering about bulldog, bulldikes and everybody started giggling again and Tony got up, his water pipe hanging from his neck, and went to the dresser and took something out of a drawer and plopped back into his chair and disappeared from sight behind the enveloping wings and put a fresh piece of hash in the bowl and lit it and took a couple of long pokes, as the show came back on, then settled back and silently and motionlessly watched the show. Fred finally exhausted himself and was incapable of any more laughter although he continued to shake his head and grin and the others avoided looking at him because when they did they started laughing and everyone had pains in their sides from laughing and so looked everywhere except at Fred, and Harry and Marion drifted away from the others and were sprawled on a few old cushions and half leaning against a wall, half listening to the music and directing most of their attention toward each other. You living alone now or do you have a roomie? No, Im alone. You know that. Harry shrugged, Hey, how do I know? The last time I remember bein at your pad you had a roomie, right? My God, that’s months ago. Wow, is it that long ago? Tempus really fugits, eh? Sometimes. Sometimes it seems to stand still. Like youre in a bag and you cant get out and somebodys always telling you that it will get better with time and time just seems to stand still and laugh at you and your pain… And then eventually it does break and its six months later. Like you just got your summer clothes out and then its Christmas and inbetween there are ten years of pain. Harry smiled, Jesus, all I said was hello and you give me ya fingerprint classification. But Im glad youre alright. Marion laughed and Harry lit a joint and took a couple of quick pokes and handed it to Marion. Tony started to jerk slightly, his movements involuntary as he sensed a coming disaster. He was absorbed in the show as much as possible and wondering how the heavy was going to cool that bad dude and rip off the broad, pullin for the cat just as hard as possible, but something in him knew that that goddamn television set was plotting against him, that it was just layin back and waiting to getim. He lit his pipe again and took a couple of long pokes then snuffed the hash and stared at the television, Youd better not fuck with me ya son of a bitch. Im warnin ya. He stopped twitching and settled back into his chair and disappeared once again from sight. Marion chuckled, He really has his own S&M scene going on with that thing, doesn’t he? Yeah. Hes like a guy with a broad who wont giveim a little. The others were half watching Tony too, and smiling, enjoying him, as they had many times before, more than anything on the tube he was watching. You know somethin man, he think thats his ol lady. Shit, he aint never talked to his ol lady like that. They laughed and went back to their listening, talking and smoking. Harry was sort of leaning against Marion as she slowly stroked his head and played with his hair as they listened to the music. From time to time he would leisurely reach up and rub the nipple of a boob with his fingertip, or caress a boob with the palm of his hand, ever so gently, not through design, but a kind of reverie. He would watch his fingertip rubbing the protruding nipple and imagine it under her blouse and think of opening her blouse and kissing it, but it seemed like too much of an undertaking at the moment and so he postponed it and just listened to the music and moved with the flow of the stroking of his head, surrendering deeper and deeper into the sensual currents it stoked. You know somethin baby, that feels better than a fix. It really turns me on. I like it too. I have always liked curly hair. It feels good around the fingers. You cant just push through like straight hair. It resists. Like it has a life of its own and it feels exciting when you defeat it, and Marion watched her fingers going through Harrys hair, watching the ends twist and bob as her fingers worked their way through, and then she would twirl the hair with a finger, watching it snap and bounce, then let the hair caress the palm of her hand then close her fingers and raise her hand slowly feeling the hair slowly slide between the fingers, her fingers, aware that she was creating a rhythm to her caressing that was governing her breathing and then she became a part of the breathing and flowed into the ripples that tingled through her as Harry rubbed the nipple of a breast between fingertips, imagining her rosy nipple and how it would feel between his lips, when Tony started yelling at the goddamn television again, Youd betta not do it prick. Im warnin ya ya lousy bastad, Ive had enough a ya shit, and he squirmed in his chair and peered defiantly at the television screen and Tyrone giggled his giggle, Ah doan mind him fat mouthin that set, but I sure hope the muthafucka doan start talkin back toim cause when that happens ah gotta cut loose this shit and split jim, and he took another good poke and turned his head so he wouldnt be lookin into the dumbass grin of Freds who was always doin that, tryin to get him to gag and spit out the smoke; and somebody broke out some amyl‑nitrite and popped it open and held a finger over one nostril and sniffed deeply until the popper was grabbed from his hand and the person shoved it up their nose and squeezed the other nostril shut and the both of them fell on the floor giggling and laughing and roaring and Tony leaned forward in his seat, I knew it,
Äàòà äîáàâëåíèÿ: 2015-09-13; ïðîñìîòðîâ: 7; Íàðóøåíèå àâòîðñêèõ ïðàâ