He started to kick out with his feet to move what was under his legs. He only started because he didn’t have any legs to kick with. Somewhere just below his hip joints they had cut both of his legs off.
No legs.
No more running walking crawling if you have no legs. No more working.
No legs you see.
Never again to wiggle your toes. What a hell of a thing what a wonderful beautiful thing to wiggle your toes.
No no.
If he could only think of real things he would destroy this dream of having no legs. Steamships loaves of bread girls Kareen machine guns books chewing gum pieces of wood Kareen but thinking of real things didn’t help because it wasn’t a dream.
It was the truth.
That was why his head had seemed lower than his legs. Because he had no legs. Naturally they seemed light. Air is light too. Even a toenail is heavy compared to air.
He had no arms and no legs.
He threw back his head and started to yell from fright. But he only started because he had no mouth to yell with. He was so surprised at not yelling when he tried that he began to work his jaws like a man who has found something interesting and wants to test it. He was so sure the idea of no mouth was a dream that he could investigate it calmly. He tried to work his jaws and he had no jaws. He tried to run his tongue around the inside of his teeth and over the roof of his mouth as if he were chasing a raspberry seed. But he didn’t have any tongue and he hadn’t any teeth. There was no roof to his mouth and there was no mouth. He tried to swallow but he couldn’t because he had no palate and there weren’t any muscles left to swallow with.
He began to smother and pant. It was as if someone had pushed a mattress over his face and was holding it there. He was breathing hard and fast now but he wasn’t really breathing because there wasn’t any air passing through his nose. He didn’t have a nose. He could feel his chest rise and fall and quiver but not a breath of air was passing through the place where his nose used to be.
He got a wild panicky eagerness to die to kill himself. He tried to calm his breathing to stop breathing entirely so he would suffocate. He could feel the muscles at the bottom of his throat close tight against the air but the breathing in his chest kept right on. There wasn’t any air in his throat to be stopped. His lungs were sucking it in somewhere below his throat.
He knew now that he was surely dying but he was curious. He didn’t want to die until he had found out everything. If a man has no nose and no mouth and no palate and no tongue why it stands to reason he might be shy a few other parts as well. But that was nonsense because a man in that shape would be dead. You couldn’t lose that much of yourself and still keep on living. Yet if you knew you had lost them and were thinking about it why then you must be alive because dead men don’t think. Dead men aren’t curious and he was sick with curiosity so he must not be dead yet.
He began to reach out with the nerves of his face. He began to strain to feel the nothingness that was there. Where his mouth and nose had been there must now be nothing but a hole covered with bandages. He was trying to find out how far up that hole went. He was trying to feel the edges of the hole. He was grasping with the nerves and pores of his face to follow the borders of that hole and see how far up they extended.
It was like staring into complete darkness with your eyes popping out of your head. It was a process of feeling with his skin of exploring with something that couldn’t move where his mind told it to. The nerves and muscles of his face were crawling like snakes toward his forehead.
The hole began at the base of his throat just below where his jaw should be and went upward in a widening circle. He could feel his skin creeping around the rim of the circle. The hole was getting bigger and bigger. It widened out almost to the base of his ears if he had any and then narrowed again. It ended somewhere above the top of what used to be his nose.
The hole went too high to have any eyes in it.
He was blind.
It was funny how calm he was. He was quiet just like a storekeeper taking spring inventory and saying to himself 1 see I have no eyes better put that down in the order book. He had no legs and no arms and no eyes and no ears and no nose and no mouth and no tongue. What a hell of a dream. It must be a dream. Of course sweet god it’s a dream. He’d have to wake up or he’d go nuts. Nobody could live like that. A person in that condition would be dead and he wasn’t dead so he wasn’t in that condition. Just dreaming.
But it wasn’t a dream.
He could want it to be a dream forever and that wouldn’t change things. Because he was alive alive. He was nothing but a piece of meat like the chunks of cartilage old Prof Vogel used to have in biology. Chunks of cartilage that didn’t have anything except life so they grew on chemicals. But he was one up on the cartilage. He had a mind and it was thinking. That’s more than Prof Vogel could ever say of his cartilages. He was thinking and he was just a thing.
Oh no. No no no.
He couldn’t live like this because he would go crazy. But he couldn’t die because he couldn’t kill himself. If he could only breathe he could die. That was funny but it was true. He could hold his breath and kill himself. That was the only way left. Except that he wasn’t breathing. His lungs were pumping air but he couldn’t stop them from doing it. He couldn’t live and he couldn’t die.
No no no that can’t be right.
No no.
Mother.
Mother where are you?
Hurry mother hurry hurry hurry and wake me up. I’m having a nightmare mother where are you? Hurry mother. I’m down here. Here mother. Here in the darkness. Pick me up. Rockabye baby. Now I lay me down to sleep. Oh mother hurry because I can’t wake up. Over here mother. When the wind blows the cradle will rock. Hold me up high high.
Mother you’ve gone away and forgotten me. Here I am. I can’t wake up mother. Wake me up. I can’t move. Hold me. I’m scared. Oh mother mother sing to me and rub me and bathe me and comb my hair and wash out my ears and play with my toes and clap my hands together and blow my nose and kiss my eyes and mouth like I’ve seen you do with Elizabeth like you must have done with me. Then I’ll wake up and I’ll be with you and I’ll never leave or be afraid or dream again.
Oh no.
I can’t. I can’t stand it. Scream. Move. Shake something. Make a noise any noise. I can’t stand it. Oh no no no.
Please I can’t. Please no. Somebody come. Help me. I can’t lie here forever like this until maybe years from now I die. I can’t. Nobody can. It isn’t possible.
I can’t breathe but I’m breathing. I’m so scared I can’t think but I’m thinking. Oh please please no. No no. It isn’t me. Help me. It can’t be me. Not me. No no no.
Oh please oh oh please. No no no please no. Please.
Not me.
vi
At the bakery he walked all night long. He walked eleven miles every night. He walked with his legs on the cement floor and his arms in the air swinging free. He hardly ever got tired. When you got to thinking about it it wasn’t bad. Walking all night long and working hard and getting eighteen dollars at the end of the week for your trouble. Not bad.
Friday nights were always the heaviest in the night shipping department because on Saturday morning the drivers would take out enough bread and pies and cakes and rolls to last their customers over Sunday. That made a hell of a lot of work and a hell of a lot of walking on Friday nights. But it wasn’t bad. They always sent to the Midnight Mission for an extra man to work with the crew on Friday nights. The guys from the Mission came stinking of disinfectant and looking very bedraggled and embarrassed. They knew that anyone who smelled the disinfectant knew they were bums on charity. They didn’t like that and how could you blame them? They were always humble and when they were bright enough they worked hard. Some of them weren’t bright. Some of them couldn’t even read the orders on the bins. One of them came from the turpentine country in Georgia. He’d never been to school at all. Most of the laz
y ones came from Texas.
One night a Porto Rican came up from the Mission. His name was Jose. Things were always pretty scrambled up in the shipping room on Friday nights with boxes and dollies and racks scattered through the aisles and guys hollering and the conveyor belts rattling away and the rotary ovens upstairs screeching as they moved on hot greaseless plates. It was pretty much of a mess and most of the Mission guys were confused when they first came to work. But not Jose. He looked over the place and listened quietly to instructions and then went to work. He was tall with brown eyes and he was pretty good looking for a Mexican or Porto Rican or whatever he was. There was something about him that told you he was a little different from the other Mission guys or that maybe he had been a little luckier than the rest.
On Friday nights all the guys ate their lunches up in the men’s can instead of going out to a restaurant because there were benches and lockers there and you could sit down on the benches and eat your lunch in a hurry and get back to work. Jose hadn’t brought any lunch so the guys stole a pint of milk from the bakery ice-box and gave him a roll with it. Joe was very grateful. While he munched his roll and drank his milk he talked. He said that California was a wonderful country. He said it was even more wonderful than his Porto Rico. He said that it was getting spring now and soon he would be able to sleep in the park. He said California was a great country for people who had no place to sleep because it didn’t get so cold and you could wrap up in an overcoat in the park and get a very good night’s sleep thank you. He said he wished he could get a steady job at the bakery because then he could manage to keep clean. He didn’t like to be dirty and he didn’t like the disinfectant they put in the water at the Mission. There were a lot of poor men down at the Mission who didn’t seem to mind the disinfectant but he minded it very much.
He said he had come to California to go into the movies. No he didn’t want to be an actor. But there should be many jobs for a young man like himself with ambition in a business as great as the movies. He said that he thought he might like to work in the research department at one of the studios. Perhaps someone could give him some information about getting a job in a studio yes?
The guys just looked at him and grunted. If any of them knew how to get work in a studio wouldn’t they have done it long ago instead of sticking around this lousy bakery? No. Nobody knew how to get work for Jose in a studio.
Jose just shrugged. It was pretty hard he said. When he came to New York things were going very well for him and then a very rich girl fell in love with him and he had to come away from there.
A rich girl fallen in love with you Jose?
Yes. He had got a job as chauffeur for a very rich family that lived on Fifth Avenue and things were very well and then the daughter of the family took a liking to him so Jose and the daughter struck a bargain. The daughter wanted to learn Spanish and Jose wanted to improve his English so they started trading lessons. And then the girl she fell in love with him and wanted to marry him and so he had to come away from New York and he came to California.
The guys sitting around in the can just looked at each other and didn’t say anything. Everybody who came from the Mission had a line. Everybody had been way up in the money and then wham something had happened and now they were in the Mission. Long ago the guys at the bakery learned that it was no use to argue with guys from the Mission. No matter how closely you questioned them and no matter how many of their stories you proved were lies they still stuck to them. They had to stick to them. Their stories were their only excuse for being what they were so in time the guys at the bakery came to accept the stories told by the guys from the Mission and to say nothing. So after Jose got through with his talking they grunted and went back to work again.
Next week was Easter and that meant hot cross buns and that meant there would have to be lots of extra help because the shipping crew couldn’t put out twenty or thirty thousand dozen hot cross buns without extra men. So Jody Simmons offered Jose a job for the week and Jose took it. He was such a good worker on hot cross buns that when Larruping Larry quit Jose got Larry’s job. He was very grateful and very quiet. He was also pleased that the weather was warmer. He was sleeping in the park and that was a wonderful thing. You saved money and Jose needed money for clothes. A man who is going to work in the studios must be well dressed said Jose.
Then one day Jose came in with a letter. He was very puzzled. He showed it to the guys and asked their advice. Americans were such strange people he said and you never knew what their customs were exactly. So what should a gentleman do under these circumstances?
The guys all read Jose’s letter. It was on a very expensive piece of stationery and written in a woman’s hand. At the top of the page was a tiny little engraved address on Fifth Avenue in New York. It was a letter from the girl Jose had been telling about. In the letter she said she wished he would give her his address so she wouldn’t have to be writing him general delivery all the time. She had come into some money of her own just a little over a half a million dollars and as soon as she found out where Jose was living she was coming to Los Angeles to marry him.
This gave the guys at the bakery something to think about. Jose might be full of bull like all the other Mission bums but it began to look like this girl of his was the real thing. Jesus Christ they said to Jose don’t be a damn fool marry the girl. Send her your address and let her come out just as fast as she can and let her bring all her jack with her and marry her before she changes her mind. But Jose shook his head. He said there wasn’t any danger of her changing her mind because like he had said the girl was crazy about him. And certainly he had no objections to marrying a girl with money. In fact he thought the only intelligent thing for a young man without money to do was to marry a young lady who had money. But he wanted also to love the girl with money that he would marry some day. This girl it was too bad but he didn’t love her.
Well I’m a sonofabitch said the guys at the bakery you can learn to love her can’t you? No said Jose sorrowfully I cannot. He just wanted to know what the American custom about such things was and how he could write the girl and explain to her. Was it polite for an American gentleman to tell an American girl he didn’t love her? But no of course not that would be ungallant. Would it not be better to have a friend maybe one of the people of the bakery write to the girl and explain to her that Jose had shot himself because of his love and now was cremated? Jose was willing to do anything to make it right.
By this time all the guys figured Jose was crazy. But they also figured he was kind of smart crazy. When he told tall stories about his native Porto Rico the guys paid more attention to him figuring that since his story about the girl was true there might be a fifty-fifty chance that his stories about Porto Rico were also true. Jose was a very funny guy but then the bakery was full of funny guys and it was just as well not to question them too closely. You took them as they came and said nothing.
After about a month of this Jose came in one night with a very worried look on his face.
What’s the matter Jose? Why do you look so down in the dumps Jose? Jose sighed and frowned. He had run into a very serious problem he said. What problem Jose? He had been out all day as usual he said looking for a job and he had found the job.
They all got interested then because everybody at the bakery wanted a better job only none of them ever found one. Where did you get this better job Jose? In a studio of course said Jose. That is why I came to California. Didn’t I tell you I came to find work in the studios?
Nobody said anything. They just stared at Jose. From anybody else this would have seemed like more bull but from Jose they knew it was the truth. How did you like that? As far as the guys at the bakery were concerned the studios might just as well be in China as in Hollywood. They paid good dough but nobody except an uncle or maybe a nephew could crack them. Yet Jose just as calm as a cucumber had walked into one and got what he wanted.
How did you get this job Jose? I asked for it said Jose.
Oh said the guys at the bakery. Then they sat around and stared at him some more. Finally somebody spoke up and said Jose what’s all this about a problem and why are you so worried?
Jose looked surprised. Anybody should know that he said. He had come to California and he had been without money and he had been full of disinfectant from the Midnight Mission and he had been very unhappy. Then this nice gentleman Jody Simmons had accepted him into the bakery and given him a fine job. That made him indebted to Jody Simmons no? Very well. He was indebted to Jody Simmons and now he had found a job. How was he to get out of the job Jody Simmons had given him in order to take the new job without offending his benefactor?
All the guys began to get excited. Each one had a different speech he would tell Jody Simmons to get out of the job. One guy thought a good way to do was to punch Jody Simmons right smack in the snoot. Another guy said just to walk in politely and tell Jody Simmons to shove the job up his ass. Another one said just not to show up for work tomorrow and Jody Simmons would catch on real quick. And there were several other ways the guys at the bakery could think of. There ought to have been. They’d been thinking of them for years. A lot of talent had gone to waste thinking of ways to tell Jody Simmons you were quitting. Here was a guy who was actually going to do it so naturally everyone cooperated.
But when all of the solutions had been offered to him Jose shook his head and his eyes looked sadder than ever. He said no he must think of a better way. It would not be gentlemanly to resign in any of the ways suggested. Jody Simmons was his benefactor and one did not do such things to one’s benefactor. Even if it were an American custom to do it differently still he would have to follow the customs of his native Porto Rico and in Porto Rico one did not do such things if one were well born.
When you start work on this job Jose? This morning said Jose and I am very tired and now I am going to have to work all night and that will make me much tireder in the morning for the other job and so it will go and it is a terrible problem and I don’t know what to do.
Johnny Got His Gun Page 6