“I need to lie down,” said Larsen. He flopped down on the bed. Pate sat at the edge, next to Larsen’s legs.
“You think she’s telling us the truth about the whore babies?” said Pate.
“I don’t know,” said Larsen.
“Makes me thankful I always use protection,” said Pate. “Hate to think I was a Daddy without knowing it, to an orphan whore baby no less.”
“I’m feverish,” said Larsen. “Help me get out of these clothes.”
Pate took off Larsen’s clothes for him, and stared at Larsen’s body. It was covered in lumps.
“Motherfucker,” said Pate. “You got the lumps.”
Larsen looked at his body. “I can’t believe it,” he said.
“You sure you wore protection?”
“I doubled up,” Larsen said.
“They say it isn’t foolproof,” said Pate. “Boy, are we never gonna fuck now. Sorry, Larsen.”
“I think I’m dying,” said Larsen.
Pate took off his own clothes and checked himself for lumps. “I’m clean,” he said. “Thank you, Jesus.”
“I’m glad it was me instead of you,” said Larsen.
“You think the lumps are doing you in?”
“No,” said Larsen. “It’s just general deterioration. I’ve known about it for a long time. I just didn’t want to worry you.”
“What a relief,” said Pate. “I’d hate to give up a-whoring on account of some killer lumps going around.”
“You’ll be fine,” said Larsen.
“Can I get you anything?” said Pate.
“I’d like some milk, actually.”
“Sure thing,” said Pate. He lifted one of the bottles to Larsen’s lips.
“Lie down next to me,” said Larsen.
“I’ll sit with you,” said Pate.
Pate took off his clothes and sat down next to Larsen. He was careful not to touch him, letting both his legs dangle off the bed. Pate fell asleep. Hours later, he awoke to a crying noise coming from outside. Then he heard laughter, and Bessy and Sonny walked into the cabin. They were drunk, knocking over milk bottles before they found the light and turned it on. Sonny was dressed in a tuxedo. Bessy wore a white gown.
“Hello, Pate,” said Bessy.
“Hello, Pate,” said Sonny.
“Hey,” said Pate. “You hear that crying outside?”
“No,” said Bessy. “There was no crying. Sonny and I were looking at your legs through the window, laughing.”
“Why were you laughing?” said Pate.
“We expected you to be fucking,” said Bessy, “and when we saw your two legs on the floor, we knew it wasn’t happening. We were laughing at Larsen’s misfortune.”
Pate pointed to Larsen. “Little fella didn’t make it.”
“What got him?” said Sonny.
“Basic deterioration,” said Pate. “The lumps are unrelated.”
Bessy noticed the empty bottle on the bed. “That milk was for the whore babies,” she said.
“Was Larsen’s dying wish,” said Pate. “Couldn’t really refuse him.”
“Fine,” said Bessy. “We have plenty.”
“You get married?” said Pate.
“It’s official,” said Sonny.
“The same night you fathered whore babies?” said Pate. “You make me ill.”
“I wore protection after all,” said Sonny. “It just didn’t feel right without it.”
“Sonny and I have been talking,” said Bessy.
“And?” said Pate.
“Would you like to get intimate with us?” said Bessy.
“One last romp before the honeymoon?” said Sonny. “Might be interesting.”
“Fuck no,” said Pate. “I’m going a-whoring.”
He took his keys from Bessy’s hand and walked out to his car. He drove to the whorehouse, walked inside, and was never heard from again. After they buried Larsen, Sonny and Bessy went on to have and raise normal babies. They lived happily in the cabin until the end of their lives.
And I don’t mind telling you another story, but first you’ll have to pay for more time.
Five Didactic Tales
1. THE LONESOME VEHICLE
Not long ago, a young man with a keen sense of injustice lived in a house all by himself in the country. The place in which he lived, however, was not so remote that he couldn’t see his neighbors’ houses when he stood on his balcony and drank his tea. Below the young man’s balcony sat a little driveway in which he parked his car. His car was very old, and would sputter and cough each time he turned the key. One winter’s day, the young man’s car finally failed to start, and he bitterly said goodbye to it and had it towed away to the junkyard, where he knew it would rot and become estranged from him.
The next morning, while drinking his tea, the young man noticed a very lonesome vehicle parked in the same place, where his old car used to rest. The vehicle and all its many windows were painted entirely black. From his balcony the young man looked left and right and then straight ahead, and thought that perhaps the lonesome vehicle belonged to one of his neighbors. So after much pondering the young man walked to the west and knocked upon his neighbor’s door, where an old woman greeted him.
“You are the young man who idly stands upon his balcony,” she said.
“Yes,” said the young man. “Do you own the ominous vehicle which rests in my driveway, where my old car used to sleep?”
“What color is the vehicle?” said the old woman.
“It is black as the asphalt in Colorado,” said the young man. “Does this ring a bell?”
“I have been twenty years blind,” said the old woman. “I only asked so you might paint a pretty picture for me.”
So the young man walked to the north and knocked upon his neighbor’s door, where an old man greeted him.
“You are the young man with more time than the Lord,” he said.
“Yes,” said the young man. “Do you own the lugubrious vehicle which rests in my driveway, where my old car used to sleep?”
“What are the dimensions of the vehicle?” said the old man.
“Wide as a dinghy, long as a shark,” said the young man.
“I’m afraid you shall have to try again,” said the old man.
“Spatiality eludes me,” said the young man. “It looks like any other vehicle, save for its blackness and inherent sadness.”
“Well, I drive a high, threatening vehicle,” said the old man. “But her color is blue.”
So the young man walked to the east and knocked upon his neighbor’s door, where a little child greeted him. “You are the young man whom I have worshiped from afar,” it said.
“Yes,” said the young man. “Do you or your guardians own the vexing vehicle which rests in my driveway, where my old car used to sleep?”
“Fool,” said the child. “Can’t you see that myself and my guardians haven’t the money for vehicles?”
“But you live in such luxury,” said the young man. “Your house looms large.”
“There is nothing beyond this exterior,” said the child, rapping upon the doorframe.
The young man returned home and inspected the lonesome vehicle, all the black windows, all the wiring beneath. He pulled on the four doors, but the four doors were all locked. In frustration he called the authorities and read them the license plate.
“The vehicle belongs to somebody,” replied the authorities, “but unfortunately we collect information rather than dispense.”
In frustration the young man called the towing company, who sent someone out to tow the lonesome vehicle.
“I can’t haul this vehicle,” said the towing man, “for it was I who towed the vehicle here from the forest, on the orders of a little man who said he lodged with you. It is highly likely that you stood upon your balcony contemplatively drinking tea while all of this was going on.”
After the young man had sent the towing man away, he began to violently search the enti
rety of his house. He knocked over tables, scattered sofa cushions, and put his fists through lampshades. Then he looked beneath his bed, where there lay a little man with fearful eyes.
“Ah,” said the young man, “you must be the owner of the loathsome vehicle which rests in my driveway, where my old car used to sleep.”
“I am,” said the little man.
“Why are you under my bed?” said the young man.
“Ostracized from my dwelling in the forest,” said the little man, “I sought refuge in a country home. I noticed you on your balcony one day, unhurriedly drinking tea, and thought I might incur very little of your wrath should you discover me. So I stayed here under the bed until night, when I nibbled at little leftover morsels, and even took a bath while you slept. I also conducted myself quite nobly when you brought a woman home from the tavern and you said immaculately vile things to her while in bed.”
“The only thing that concerns me,” said the young man, “is that an upstanding little man such as yourself should be ostracized from his community. You may lodge with me as long as you wish, but tomorrow we will drive to the forest and together we will raze your little community until nothing is left, because if there is one thing I cannot tolerate, it is injustice.”
“Agreed,” said the little man, and they both slept, the young man on his bed, and the little man beneath.
That night snow began to fall, and in the morning a heavy layer blanketed the ground. After tea and a light breakfast, the young man and his little friend entered the lonesome vehicle, and although the little man’s legs hardly reached the pedals, they were soon on their way. But on the interstate, they soon hit a stretch of black ice and found themselves in a ghastly accident. There was no hope for the young man: he died at the scene.
News of the accident spread quickly, and soon all the young man’s neighbors arrived, followed by the authorities and the towing man. The little man gave his statement to the authorities and watched as the towing man towed his vehicle to the junkyard. He was then placed in chains and returned to the forest, where his community, having heard news of his deed, welcomed him as a hero.
2. THE GREAT HOUSE
Once, in the east, a newly married couple shared a great house on a large plot of cleared land, which was bordered by a dark forest. The couple had no children, and would often promise one another, after exercising or lovemaking, that there would never be any children.
The forest beyond the house was populated by the destitute and abject, and so to keep them from the great house the married couple employed several of the destitute to build a fence that protected the property and hired several of the abject to stand watch, equipping them with large firearms.
Often, on summer nights, when the couple would entertain, their guests would become frightened by the drumming and chanting emanating from deep within the forest, and so, as the nights passed, the guests, one by one, failed to accept their invitations, until the day when the couple was left, save for the guards, to themselves.
One night over dinner, the husband, who had swallowed several glasses of wine, suggested to his wife that they might have some children to brighten the empty rooms of the great house.
“When the forest has overtaken our great house,” said the wife, “then we will have our children.”
The couple soon retired to bed for lovemaking, but the husband in his disappointment and the wife in her portentousness could only manage an awkward embrace, and soon they fell fast asleep.
The next morning the husband wandered down to the property’s edge and approached a guard who stood shouldering his rifle toward the woods.
“Let me ask you,” said the husband, “how much has the forest moved today?”
“Not a grain of an inch,” replied the guard.
“Very well,” said the husband. “Have there been any sightings today of the dwellers?”
“Not a coattail of a garment,” replied the guard.
The husband kept this information to himself that night at the dinner table. “How was your day?” he asked the wife.
“My day passed as any other,” she said.
“In time we might change that,” he said, lovingly patting her hand.
The next morning the husband returned to the same guard, whom he now favored for his honesty. “How much has the forest moved today?” he said.
“Not a hair’s width from yesterday,” replied the guard.
“Will the forest ever consume my great house?” the husband said.
“Perhaps in the time of your grandchildren’s grandchildren’s grandchildren,” replied the guard.
“Very well,” said the husband, who was about to return home, but hesitated as a faint noise caught his ear. “The drums,” he said. ‘The drums and the loud lamentations. Do they seem closer to you?”
“I hear no drums nor loud lamentations,” replied the guard.
“Very well,” said the husband, and he returned home.
That evening, the husband and wife sat down to dinner. “How was your day?” said the husband.
“My day passed as any other,” said the wife, “except that I suddenly was able to perceive the distant drums from within the confines of our great house.”
“I thought so,” said the husband. “I thought I heard them too.”
The next morning the husband again spoke to the guard, who appeared slightly nervous at his post.
“The noises are becoming louder,” said the husband. “How do you explain this?”
“There must be a celebration within the forest,” said the guard.
“But the sound is so mournful,” replied the husband.
“They are very sad people,” replied the guard.
“Is that not them dancing just behind the first row of trees?” said the husband.
“My eyesight is leaving me,” replied the guard. “You might need to hire another.”
“Very well,” said the husband, and he returned home.
That evening the husband and wife sat down to dinner. “I learned the origin of the noises today,” said the husband.
“Yes?” she replied.
“The people of the forest are having a party,” said the husband.
“You know it makes me sad to hear that word,” said the wife, bittersweetly patting his hand.
That night the couple said a prayer in which they thanked a higher power that they had each other and a great house to live in.
The next morning, there was an uprising in the forest, and by noontime the destitute and abject had armed themselves with stones, ropes, and firearms, and soon had taken the fence, slaughtered the guards, and overrun the great house. Easily captured, the husband and wife were paraded about the compound in chains, and fed rainwater and grubs of the forest for their meals. By nightfall they were tried for malfeasance and found guilty and sentenced to hang at midnight, side by side, from a beam above the wide porch.
As the nooses tightened around their necks, the husband said: “The forest has overrun our great house. Certainly now we might have our children.”
The wife looked out over the crowd of hateful faces. “Yes,” she said. “I don’t know.”
3. THE FAST MEAL
During a time of great wealth in the country, a number of those who had plenty took to the forest, where they lived in self-inflicted poverty in the hopes that they might get back to the marrow of experience, which had long since vacated human life.
One day, a widower, who lived in the city with his three middle-aged sons, decided such a change might be beneficial, so he sold the house and all of their belongings, liquidated his mutual funds, gave his monies to several pet charities, and, in order to symbolically finalize this severing, pushed the family vehicle over a nearby cliff.
When he had finished, he wiped his hands on his slacks and said to his sons, “I fondly remember in hallucinatory fragments the essence of human life, which you were born too late to know. We will go to it now, and feed upon it.”
The sons, who had grown quite comfortable in middle age, became very moody, and voiced their misgivings. Although none worked, all had busy schedules, and so they said to their father, “You elders with your mad and flickering visions. You will drive this generation to ruin! It is only you who fear time’s passage, only you who inhibit our fun. Why not let us live the life promised to us as wealthy citizens of this country?”
“The forest still holds revelatory potential, no matter how debased our dealings with it have heretofore been,” said the father. “Furthermore, what kind of father would I be if I denied my sons the access to the wisdom of the ages? I would be the kind of man that the Good Lord, His infinite mercy notwithstanding, would not, and should not, let die.”
“Very well,” said the eldest and youngest sons, who were sympathetic, in a sniveling way. “We do not hear what you say, but we hear the way in which you say it, and we wish to remain in your good graces, because we love you.”
“Brothers, you appall me,” said the middle son. “If you follow our father to the forest, you will never again be able to order a fast meal. Therefore, I will stay behind, with some close friends, and curse the three of you while I enjoy fast meal after fast meal.”
“Then you shall be dead to us from this moment on,” said the father. “We will think of you as we think of all the dead that infuse our every moment: bitterly.”
“Yes,” said the two other brothers. “While we do recognize the virtue of your argument, we have never really liked you, and will therefore say goodbye.”
So the widower and his two sons began walking until they came upon a store teeming with outdoor goods. Inside, they piled their shopping carts with breathable clothing, backpacks, bug repellent, soft fleece jackets, sleeping bags, rods with which to fish, and a variety of dehydrated foods. The father happily walked along the aisles with his sons, sipping a cola he intended to pay for upon leaving. At the checkout counter, the sons assumed looks of wishfulness, smiling at their father in the hope of financial assistance. Their father examined his pocket, but then remembered that in his haste to prepare for the essence of human life, he had thrown his billfold into a garbage can.
Something in My Eye: Stories Page 6