The Pigman's Legacy (The Sequel to The Pigman)

by Paul Zindel

  “John, you know what you were like when you used to drink,” Lorraine reminded me.

  “Don't worry,” I said. “I'm not going to get stoned.”

  After a few minutes Lorraine wanted to check the Rendezvous Lounge and Oyster Bar, but I told her we still had a lot of time to go before meeting Dolly and the Colonel. She started to bellyache about how she really didn't feel secure enough to start playing one of the real games. I could see she was almost afraid to talk to anyone, and absolutely terrified about a raid. Finally Lorraine broke down and got ten dollars worth of nickels. I could see she was finally getting the feel of things. But her philosophy was, just because she had some money she didn't want to spend all of it right away. She still insisted on playing only the nickel slots.

  I was playing the twenty-five-cent slots and got behind an oversized woman with short hair who kept turning around and smiling, but she wouldn't let me get at the machines. She kept plugging quarters in five at a time. By the time ten minutes passed I was still standing there. I felt like giving her a karate chop on the back of the neck. I couldn't wait to get at that particular machine, because I felt good vibes about it. At that point a middle-aged couple passed by and I heard the man say to his wife, “And here, Helen, is where the poor people line up.” His wife replied, “Well, that's what we are,” and got right in with the rest of us.

  At last the corpulent dame in front of me turned around and said, “That's it. I'm wiped out. Twenty-five dollars and I didn't even get three lemons.”

  I zipped in like a ferret and started sticking quarters into the machine. I could feel the lady's eyes burning into my back. One of the quarters got stuck halfway down and I felt embarrassed.

  “Pull the handle a little more,” the lady coached me.

  I did as she said and suddenly the winner's light lit up and the machine started coughing quarters out like there was no tomorrow—ten, twenty, fifty dollars worth of quarters.

  “Lorraine, Lorraine,” I called out, jumping up and down. She was speechless watching me. The fat lady wasn't so speechless. “Those are my quarters you're winning,” she said and took off in tears.

  “I feel sorry for her,” Lorraine said.

  “So do I,” I admitted, filling a paper cup with all the loot. I was so excited by now, I wanted to do cartwheels. I wanted to scream out loud, “I won! I won!” I put in another quarter and this time I won three quarters. The time after that I got two lemons and a hammer and won fifteen quarters. By then I got so daring I started playing five quarters at a time in the machine. And I heard Lorraine's little voice in my ear beginning to pray along with me. But her prayer had a slightly different twist on it.

  “Please win. Win for the Colonel” Lorraine kept saying.

  Sometimes the machine listened, but more often than not it didn't. Nevertheless I kept feeding the machine and some man next to me won two thousand quarters on his machine. But there was absolutely no expression on his face because he was with the mortuary convention. Finally, I decided the whole thing was a losing proposition and I took my quarters to the cashier and had her stick them into this automatic counting machine. I found that I hadn't really lost anything. In fact I came out about seventy-five cents ahead. Then I took Lorraine's hand and dragged her to the big Wheel of Fortune. The spirit suddenly moved me, and I plopped down a fifty-dollar bill.

  “Money plays,” the guy running the thing yelled out. I was going to stick it on a twenty-to-one space, but I decided the five-to-one space was risky enough. The little spinner went around and around, ticking in and out of the little slots. It took a long time to slow down, and it passed a lot of five-to-one slots. Our hopes went up and down until miraculously it stopped solidly between two pegs clearly marked five-to-one. I let out a scream so loud eight hundred people turned around. “I won!” I kept screaming. “I won!” Two hundred and fifty smackers I got, and I was so bananas I couldn't stay in one spot anymore. I took a twenty-dollar bill and slapped it right in the hand of the guy running the thing.

  “What are you doing?” Lorraine wanted to know.

  “Tipping”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “That's how it's done,” I told her.

  “Holy cow!” Lorraine moaned, shaking her head back and forth in disbelief. “Holy cow!” I finally recovered and was about to try again when we heard another “Yahoo!” come tearing across the room. We recognized Dolly's scream, but it took us a while to locate her. We listened carefully for the next “Yahoo!” and found her with the Colonel at a different blackjack table where the minimum bet was ten dollars instead of five dollars.

  “Oh, my darlings,” Dolly said. “We're four thousand dollars ahead! I can't believe it! I'm so happy!”

  Dolly got down off the stool and grabbed Lorraine and they began to dance in the aisle. They were just jumping up and down, and I was more thrilled than either of them. I could just smell the four thousand dollars as we all marched on the cashier's booth and turned in the chips. Dolly held the Colonel's arm the whole way and hugged it tightly against her body.

  We made our way out of the joint. I tipped the valet guys a five and asked if there was another “special restaurant” around, and they told me there were three others down at the south end of the Boardwalk. Dolly's ecstasy and her electric blue swirl dress caught everyone's attention. We were almost up onto the Boardwalk when the Colonel suddenly stopped. I thought he might be in pain, but it was just the opposite. He wanted to go into a jewelry shop.

  “What for?” Dolly wanted to know.

  “I want to buy you a diamond,” the Colonel wheezed.

  Dolly started to cry. She opened her little doghouse purse, took out a handkerchief, and dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, my darling,” she said. “I don't need a diamond. All I need is to know that you've got a decent roof over your head and three square meals a day. This money is going right into your bank account, and it's going to be ready for you whenever you need it.” She beamed.

  “But I want to buy you a ring.”

  “No, my darling,” Dolly said, “not now.”

  “If I could afford it, you'd be covered with diamonds,” the Colonel said, “covered”

  Dolly grabbed his hand and pulled him right past the jewelry store and up onto the Boardwalk. It was really great that the old guy wanted to lay a diamond on Dolly. The only thing shiny I ever saw my father buy for my mother was a soup pot.

  We weren't on the Boardwalk two minutes before we were almost knocked down by a bearded man wearing glasses, a white apron, and a paper chef's hat. He was walking around in an absolute daze as though he'd had marijuana brownies for breakfast.

  “He's an omen,” Lorraine said. “That man is an omen.”

  The guy disappeared into the crowd and we pushed our way farther on down the Boardwalk. It was populated with a bunch of ancient-looking old ladies who were attacking every snack stand in sight. Then there was this open bus contraption that went up and down the Boardwalk on little rubber wheels. And it was filled with the saddest-looking old faces in the world. I called it a geriatric perambulator. One woman was walking around in her bare feet and I couldn't understand how she wasn't crippled with splinters. The wood on the Boardwalk was in a complete state of disrepair and looked ready to topple over into the ocean. The whole scene made me doubt my basic belief that reality is only a crutch for those people who are afraid to face science fiction. The Colonel and Dolly held hands, and the Colonel lit Dolly's filter-tip cigarettes. She fed him sesame-seed crackers, and she bought some popcorn. Her miniature doghouse purse seemed to be loaded with a lot of surprise goodies. She offered me a Tiger's Milk Health Bar.

  The next “special restaurant” was pretty far down the Boardwalk, and we passed a lot of old stores and fast-food stands. There was a lot of window-shopping to do, and a saltwater taffy store. Another place was called the “Earring Tree,” where they sold a lot of weird jewelry. Halfway down the Boardwalk we turned and went through this little teepee village, but we were chas
ed out. All along the Boardwalk they seemed to sell everything from cameras to iron-on shirts. And we passed Madame Charlotte's Temple of Knowledge, and she was waving at us to come in for a phrenology reading. It was only a dollar.

  “Should we give it a try?” Lorraine asked.

  “I'm not going to pay any gypsy to feel the bumps on my head.”

  Then there was a carpenter peddling up and down the Boardwalk making signs while you wait. He looked like the type who worked part-time as a beautician. I was going to ask the Colonel if he'd like to make a sign commemorating our trip here, but I decided it would cut into our gambling time.

  The sun was shining overhead as we walked into the second “special restaurant.” The outside of this building was covered with a lot of lopsided sheets of shiny gold plastic. It looked like a cross between a Chinese pagoda and a jukebox. The inside was different too. At least they had a sense of humor, and looked like they must have really paid the cops off. The cashiers and dealers were all dressed in ruffled shirts and tuxedo vests. There were different kinds of music coming from all parts of the huge floor. Actually the spirit in the place was sort of intoxicating. Dolly and the Colonel were immediately swept away by the atmosphere.

  “Let's have some lunch,” Dolly suggested.

  “I'm not hungry,” I said. “Besides, don't you want to gamble some more?”

  “Not really,” Dolly said. “Do you, honey?”

  “No,” the Colonel admitted. “I'm just worried about the money.”

  “Darlings, would you mind holding it for us?” Dolly asked.

  “NO,” I said right off the bat.

  “You've got tight pockets on your jeans,” Dolly said, “and if you just shove all the bills down deep nobody will be able to get them out. Around here they steal purses and once in a while they will hit old people over the head. I would feel safer if you kept it for us.”

  “Maybe it would be better if you just hung on to it, Dolly,” Lorraine suggested.

  “Nonsense,” I said. “It's much safer with me.” Dolly gave me forty-three one-hundred-dollar bills, which looked like a mafia bankroll.

  “Do you need another hundred dollars?” the Colonel asked Lorraine and me.

  “No,” I said. We'd made a few dollars too.

  “Yahoo!” Dolly yelled. “The Colonel and I are just going to get a little lunch at the Calypso Lounge until you come back in about an hour. Is it a deal?”

  “You got it!” I said.

  “I really think you should hold the money,” Lorraine repeated to Dolly.

  “John is big and strong,” Dolly stated. “Nobody's going to take it away from him.”

  Lorraine looked dubious, and as we walked away, Dolly was calling after us, “You kids are swell! You kids are just swell!”

  I suppose I should have known the minute they gave me all that money to hold that maybe it really wasn't a very good idea. I really had no intention of gambling with it. I had over two hundred fifty dollars of my own from the last winnings, and there was no reason in the world why I'd have to dip into anybody else's money. I guess it was just the feeling that Dolly was the one with the lucky fingers who seemed to know her way around a blackjack table.

  “Let's just have a soda and walk around,” Lorraine suggested.

  “After we play a few cards,” I said. I finally found a blackjack table with only a few people at it, but the minimum was fifty dollars. Looking back now, I think it would have been better if I had waited for a five-dollar minimum, but they were all so crowded. I liked the luxury of space at this one particular one, and I felt that Lady Luck was calling to me. Lorraine said she was going over to the cashier's window to get some nickels to play the slot machines behind me. She decided sitting at a blackjack table made her much too nervous, because she definitely wasn't going to bet any fifty-dollar minimum and the dealer told her straight off that all the stools were reserved for players, not onlookers. Off to the right the Calypso Lounge was in view, and we could see Dolly and the Colonel seated at a dimly lit table drinking some exotic-looking drinks in a big coconut. For a guy who had intestinal problems, he didn't seem to care for some reason. When it came to eating and drinking that day, he was more like a guy going to the electric chair and having one heck of a final meal.

  At least this place had a band, which was playing something like the “Anniversary Waltz.” It was all sort of tender and romantic, especially with the old-fashioned music. There was a rock band down at the other end, but we could hardly hear the beat from where I was sitting.

  I lost a couple of bets, then I put down a hundred dollars. I have a theory that you should always start out big and then work down to smaller bets. That way if you're going to win a lot, at least you'll win it at the beginning, and if you lose a lot then you can just play for peanuts and have fun afterward.

  “John,” Lorraine was at my side cautioning, “do you think you should really bet so much?”

  “Start big, win big,” I said.

  “Did Dolly tell you her system of playing in multiples of five?” Lorraine asked.

  “I know that system,” I said. “It takes too long.”

  Before she could say another word, I placed my last fifty-dollar chip in my betting spot. I was so nervous I asked for more cards than I should have and went over twenty-one. The dealer hit twenty-one and everyone at the table lost anyway, so I didn't feel so bad. So now I was down to my original twenty-dollar bill that I had borrowed from my father. But somehow, something went berserk in my head and I just couldn't bear starting small again. It's like some disciple of the devil just grabbed my hand and thrust it into my left pocket to pull out the wad of C-notes. I peeled off five, knowing I couldn't possibly lose it. I had lost four hands in a row and I was really due to win big.

  “What are you doing?” Lorraine asked, her eyes looking as though I was about to commit a heinous crime.

  “Just getting my money back,” I said.

  “John, are you crazy? It's not your money.”

  “I'm just borrowing it,” I explained.

  “John, get away from that table.”

  “Lorraine, stop it please. Don't worry about it—my luck is going to change.”

  I was aware of Lorraine losing her voice. She began to pace back and forth behind me as though she couldn't bear to look at what was going on at the table. I think what happened was half her fault. She threw me off balance; she confused me. She charged the whole place with a lot of nervousness so I couldn't keep my mind on the cards. You're supposed to play blackjack with Lady Luck, not some girl who looks like she's ready for a loony bin. She spoke to me only one more time, and that was when I lost the five hundred and stuck a thousand on my spot. I have to admit now that I was going crazy. Suddenly chips didn't mean anything to me anymore. I had to convert the money into chips and it wasn't as though I was playing with money anymore, they were simply little round things. And the whole idea wasn't cash,it was winning. I just had to win. I couldn't lose. I'd had enough of losing in my life and I didn't want to lose then, not there. Not in front of all those people. I could hear the music pouring out of the Calypso Lounge. The band was playing a soft rhumba, and once in a while I would look up from the chips and see Dolly and the Colonel swaying to and fro across the floor. The chips began to run through my fingers like water. I was going down, and there off in the lounge was this thin, tired, frail old man keeping pace with Dolly Racinski every step of the way. They were having such a good time, it only made me feel even more guilty as I lost and lost again. I made larger and larger bets. I tried making smaller bets. I tried skipping a hand. Lorraine began to moan. Lorraine tried literally pulling me away from the table. Finally, I stopped playing. The money was all gone, and Lorraine was in tears. And then I realized how really off the deep end I had gone. I asked Lorraine if she would lend me the few bucks she had left. And she just stood there, her tears freezing on her face. Now she was completely mute.

  The last thing I was aware of was the music roarin
g from the Calypso Lounge: “Hold that tiger. Hold that tiger.” I felt my own eyes clouding over with moisture and shame. I looked up to see Dolly and the Colonel again. They were gliding across the dance floor doing these tiny steps that made their feet appear to be inches off the ground. It was something like a dance I've seen old people do called The Peabody. Sometimes the music would pause, and the Colonel would spin Dolly around and do a big dip. How could I tell them that I'd lost everything? How could I tell them?

  twelve

  I couldn't look John in the face. I was beyond anger. I was horrified. He just wouldn't listen to me. I wanted to run out the door and not even look back. I just wanted to get on a bus and not have to face him, or anyone. He had taken the Colonel's life into his own hands and lost it playing cards. He had not only tried to act like some kind of professional gambler, he had tried to act like God. Maybe I was just as guilty. It seemed we had a habit of stepping in and taking control of other people's lives. It was only when I saw that the shame was so unbearable for John that he couldn't lift his eyes up from the floor that I began to feel sorry for him.

  “You've got to tell them,” I said. “You've got to tell them now.”

  “I can't,” John said.

  “You've got to,” I demanded. I took his hand and pulled him away from the blackjack tables through the crowd. I dragged him right into the Calypso Lounge and stood him in front of Dolly and the Colonel at their table.

  “Tell them,” I ordered John.