“Assateague or Chincoteague oysters,” he says, “don’t matter which. Even good ole Chesapeake Bay oysters’ll do! Hell, mysef, I prefer the Pacific Coast variety—Puget Sound salties, or some of the Oregon State breeds. Or, then, down from the Gulf Coast, where you come from—Bon Secour or Heron Bay oysters, or over at Apalachicola, Florida, they used to have some delicious mollusks!”
Dan was kinda gettin beside hissef, an I think his mouth was waterin as we walked across a great big marble-floored hall toward where the signs say Restaurant an Oyster Bar. But just afore we go inside it, a policeman come up an order us to halt.
“What you clowns think you’re doin?” he ast.
“Gettin our breakfast,” says Dan.
“That so?” says the policeman. “An what’s that hog doin here?”
“That is a licensed seein-eye hog,” Dan says. “Can’t you see I’m blind?”
The cop be lookin at Dan pretty hard in the face, an finally he say, “Well, you look kinda blind, but we can’t let no hog inside the Union Station. It’s against the rules.”
“I tole you, this is a seein-eye hog. It’s perfectly legal,” Dan says.
“Yeah, well, I heard of seein-eye dogs. But ain’t no such thing as a seein-eye hog,” say the cop.
“Yeah,” say Dan. “Well, I am livin proof that there is—ain’t that right, Wanda?” He reach down an patted Wanda on the head, an she give out a single loud grunt.
“So you say,” the policeman answers, “but I ain’t never heard of any such thing. Besides, I think you better show me your driver’s licenses. You fellers look kinda suspicious.”
“Driver’s licenses!” Dan shouts. “What kind of people would give a driver’s license to a blind man?”
The cop, he thinks a minute, an pointin his thumb at me, says, “Yeah, maybe you’re right—but what about him?”
“Him!” Dan shouts. “Why he’s a certified idiot. You want him drivin around in your city?”
“Yeah, well, how come he’s all wet?”
“On account of he fell down in a big mud puddle outside the station here. What kind of people are you, allowin such mud puddles? Why, I think you oughta be sued or somethin.”
The cop be scratchin his head now, an I guess tryin to figger out how to deal with this situation without makin hissef look like a fool.
“Well, all this may be so,” he says, “but if he’s a idiot, what’s he doin here? Looks like maybe we oughta lock him up or somethin.”
“It’s his hog,” Dan answers. “He is the best seein-eye hog trainer in the world. He might not be smart, but it’s one thing he can do. Hogs are smarter than dogs—most of em even smarter than people. But they need a good trainer.”
At this, Wanda give out another big grunt an then peed right on the nice marble floor.
“All right—that’s it!” the cop holler. “I don’t care what you say! You bozos are outta here!”
He grapped Dan an me by the collars an start draggin us to the doors. In the confusion, Dan done dropped Wanda’s leash, an by the time the cop turn aroun to see where she was, he suddenly got a real funny look on his face. Wanda is back about twenty yards behin, lookin at the cop with them squinty little yeller eyes of hers, an she is pawin the marble an gruntin an snortin to beat the band. Then, without no further warnin, she done charged across the floor straight at us, but Dan an me, we knew who she’s aimin at, an so does the cop.
“Oh, my Lord! Oh, my Lord!” he shouts an takes off runnin fast as he can. I let Wanda chase after him for a moment or two an then called her back. Last we see of that cop, he is headed for the Washington Monument. Dan picks up the end of Wanda’s leash again, an we walked on out the door of the Union Station an onto the street, with Dan tappin the ground with his stick.
“Sometimes a man gotta stand up for his rights,” he says.
I ast Dan what we gonna do next, an he say we need to go on down to Lafayette Park, across from the White House, account of it is the prettiest piece of public property in the town, an is also the main place in the city where they let folks like us camp out an do our thing.
“All we gotta do is get us a sign,” Dan says. “Then we become legitimate protesters, an ain’t nothin nobody can do to us. We can live there long as we want.”
“What kinda sign?”
“Don’t matter, long as it is against whatever the President stands for.”
“What is that?” I ast.
“We’ll think of something.”
So that’s what we did. I found a big ole piece of cardboard, an we spent twenty-five cents on a red crayon, an Dan tole me what to write on the sign.
“Vietnam Veterans Against the War,” he say.
“But the war’s over.”
“Not for us it ain’t.”
“Yeah, but it’s been ten years...”
“Screw it, Forrest, we’ll tell em we been here all that time.”
Anyhow, we gone on down to Lafayette Park across from the White House. They was all sorts of protesters there, an bums an beggars, too. They all gots signs, an some are hollerin across the street an a lot have got little tents or cardboard boxes to live in. They is a fountain in the middle, where they get their water from, an two or three times a day everbody get together an pool their money an send out for some cheap sambwiches an soup.
Dan an me, we set up our operation on a corner of the park, an somebody tole us where a appliance store was so that we can get a couple of refrigerator cartons that afternoon, which will be our homes. One of the fellers say it is a lot better now that wintertime has come, account of when it is halfway warm, the Park Service turns on the sprinkler system deliberately in the middle of the night, to drive us away. Lafayette Park is kinda different than the last time I was here—or at least the President’s house was. Now they has got a big iron fence around it an concrete posts ever few feet, an a bunch of armed guards pacin back an forth. It is like the President don’t want nobody to come see him.
Anyhow, Dan an me commenced to beggin from the passersby, but ain’t too many people interested. End of the day, we has made about three bucks. I am beginnin to get worried about Dan, account of all his coughin an how thin he is an all, an I remembered how back when we come home from Vietnam he had gone on up to the Walter Reed Hospital an they fixed him up.
“I don’t want no more of that place, Forrest. They done fixed me up once, an look where it got me.”
“But, Dan,” I says, “ain’t no reason for you to be sufferin. You still a young man.”
“Young, hell! I’m a walkin corpse—Can’t you see that, you idiot?”
I tried, but there wadn’t no talkin him out of it—He just wadn’t goin to the Walter Reed Hospital. That night we was in our boxes, an things was pretty dark an quiet in the Lafayette Park. We was gonna get a crate for Wanda, too, but I decided she could sleep with Dan, account of she might help keep him warm.
“Forrest,” Dan says after a while, “I know you think I must of stolen the money from the srimp bidness, don’t you?”
“I dunno, Dan. I mean, that’s what some other people say.”
“Well, I didn’t. Wadn’t none there to steal when I left.”
“What about drivin off in the big car with the girl?” I ast. I just had to ast it.
“That wasn’t nothin. That was the last money I had in the bank. I just figured what the hell, ya know. If I’m gonna be broke, I might as well go out in style.”
“Then what happened, Dan? I mean, we had a lot of money in that bidness. Where’d it go?”
“Tribble,” he says.
“Mister Tribble!”
“Yeah, that sombitch run off with it. I mean, he must have, cause he was the only one who could have. He had all the accounts an all, an after your mama died, he was runnin the whole show. One day he says to everybody that there ain’t enough money to meet the payroll this week, but to stick around an there will be, an the next week, that sombitch is gone!”
“I can’t believ
e it. Why, Mister Tribble was honest as the day is long!”
“Yeah—a chessman. I reckon you might believe so. But I think he’s a crook. You know, Forrest, you got some good sides to you, but your main problem is, you trust everybody. You don’t think there are people out there who are gonna screw you any chance they get. They take one look at you, an they say ‘sucker.’ An your big dumb ass don’t know the difference. You treat everybody like they are your friend. It ain’t that way in the world, Forrest. A lot of people ain’t your friend. They are just lookin at you the way a banker looks at somebody comes in for a loan—How I’m gonna fleece this rube? That’s the way it is, Forrest. That’s the way it is.”
Then Dan, he commenced to start coughin again, an finally he gone on to sleep. I got my head out of the icebox crate, an the sky have cleared an it is cold an still, an the stars are all shinin, an I am just about asleep when they is like a warm mist come above me an all of a sudden, there is Jenny, sort of smilin an lookin at me!
“Well, you sure did it this time, didn’t you?”
“Yup, I reckon I did.”
“You had it right in your hand, didn’t you? And then you get so excited about the ceremony that you forget to release the pressure valve—and look what happens.”
“I know.”
“And what about little Forrest? How’s he gonna take this?”
“I dunno.”
“Well, I can imagine,” Jenny says, “that he’s gonna be real disappointed. After all, all that stuff was his idea in the first place.”
“Yup.”
“So don’t you think you ought to tell him? After all, he was gonna come up there and spend Christmas with you, right?”
“It’s what I was gonna do tomorrow. It ain’t like I have had much time.”
“Yeah, well, I think you better get it done.”
I could tell she was sort of mad, an I wadn’t feelin too good about things mysef.
“I guess I done made a fool of mysef again, huh?”
“Well, let me say this, you was a sight, runnin across those fields covered in pig shit, bein chased by that mob an all them hogs, too.”
“Yup, I spose I was, but you know, I kinda figgered you might of been able to help me out there a little—You know what I mean?”
“Forrest,” she says, “it wadn’t my turn to watch after you.”
An then the mist sort of dissolved an I was lookin at the sky again, an a big ole silver cloud sailed across the stars, an the last thing I remember was Wanda done give out a big ole grunt from Dan’s icebox carton.
Next mornin, I got up early an found a pay phone an called Mrs. Curran’s number. Little Forrest had already gone off to school, but I tole her what had happened. She seemed kinda confused by it all, an so I said I would call again that night.
When I get back to Lafayette Park, I seen Lieutenant Dan in some kinda argument with a man in a marine’s uniform. I couldn’t hear what they was sayin, but I figgered it was a argument because Dan was givin the man the finger an the man was givin the finger back. When I get up to our boxes, Dan sees me an says to the feller, “and if you don’t like it, my friend Forrest, here, will whip you ass!”
The marine turn around an look at me, up an down, an all of a sudden he gets a sort of shit-eatin smile on his face, an I can see he has got picket teeth in front an he is a officer an is carryin a briefcase.
“I am Colonel Oliver North,” he says to me, “and who are you, gonna whip my ass?”
“My name is Forrest Gump, an I don’t know nothin about this ass-whippin bidness, but if Lieutenant Dan say to do it, that’s good enough for me.”
Colonel North sort of size me up, an then gets a look on his face kinda like a lightbulb went off inside his head. He is all spit-an-polish from shoes to hat, an on his uniform he is wearin about a dozen rows of ribbons.
“Gump? Say, you ain’t the Gump won a Congressional Medal of Honor over at Vietnam?”
“That’s him,” says Dan. An Wanda, who is still inside her box, give out a big ole grunt.
“What the hell was that?” Colonel North asts. “That’s Wanda,” I say.
“You fellers got a girl in that carton?” says the colonel. “Wanda’s a pig,” I say.
“Yeah, I don’t doubt it, hangin out with a couple of slackers like you. How come you against the war?”
“Cause it’s easier to be against somethin that don’t exist, you dummy,” Dan answers.
Colonel North scratches his chin for a second, then nods. “Yeah, I can see your point about that, I guess. Say, listen, Gump, what’s a guy like you who has won the Congressional Medal of Honor doin here actin like a hobo, anyway?”
I started to tell him about the pig farm an all, but I figgered it might sound strange, so I just said, “I got in a bidness venture that went sour.”
“Why, you oughta have stayed in the army,” the colonel says. “I mean, here you are a big war hero. You gotta have some sense.”
An then the colonel, he gets this real odd look in his eyes, an squints off in the distance for a minute, toward the White House, an when he turns back, he says, “Look here, Gump, I might be able to use a guy like you. There is something I’m involved with in which your talents could be very useful. You got time to come over across the street an hear me out?”
I looked at Dan, but he just nodded, an so the colonel an me, that’s what we did.
Chapter Six
First thing Colonel North says to me when we out of earshot of Dan is “Your clothes are awful; we gotta get you cleaned up.” An so he took me over to some army fort an tole them to fit me with a brand-new private’s uniform, an then he took me to where I could get a bath an to a barbershop for a haircut an a shave. When we was through, I was spic-an-span an feelin like I was back in the army or somethin—which was weird.
“Well, Gump, that is an improvement if I do say so,” the colonel says. “Now, look here, I want your ass spit-an-polish from now on in. If it’s necessary, I want you to even spit-shine your asshole—you got that?”
“Right, Colonel,” I say.
“And now,” he says, “I am gonna confer on you the title of ‘special assistant for covert operations.’ But you ain’t to tell anybody anything about any of this—no matter what. Right?”
“Right, Colonel,” I says.
“Listen, Gump,” says Colonel North when we get inside the White House, “we are going to see the President of the United States, so I want you to be on your best behavior—you got that straight?”
“I already seen him,” I says.
“When? On TV or something?”
“Right here—about eight or ten years ago.”
“Yeah, well, they got a new president now. You ain’t met this one yet—An he don’t hear too good, either, so you got to speak up if he says something to you. An for that matter,” Colonel North adds, “he don’t listen too well, either.”
We gone on into the little round room where the President was, an sure enough, it was not neither of the ole presidents I had met, but a new one this time. He was a older, kindly gentleman with little rosy cheeks an look like he might of been a cowboy at some point, or maybe a movie actor.
“Well, Mr. Gump, I am proud to make your acquaintance,” the President says. “Colonel North, here, tells me you won the Congressional Medal of Honor.”
“Yessir,” I says.
“And what did you do to get it?”
“I runned.”
“Beg your pardon?” says the President.
“He said he ran, sir,” Colonel North interrupted, “but he didn’t tell you he ran carryin five or six of his wounded buddies out of the line of fire.”
“Well, Colonel, there you go again,” say the President, “putting words in people’s mouths.”
“Sorry, sir,” says the colonel. “I was just trying to clarify matters. Put them in a proper perspective.”
“You leave that to me,” the President say. “That is my job, not yours—By the way, Col
onel North, have we met before?”
Anyway, we finally got on down to bidness. In a corner of the room is a TV set, an the President, he has been watchin Concentration.
“Why don’t you turn that shit off, Colonel,” the President says. “It confuses me.”
“Right, sir,” says the colonel. “Personally, I prefer The Price Is Right, myself.”
“Last time I was here,” I says, tryin to get in the conversation, “the President, he sometimes watched To Tell the Truth. But that was a long time ago.”
“I ain’t too fond of that one,” Colonel North says.
“Listen,” says the President, “we ain’t got time to screw around talkin about TV shows. Just what you got on your mind, Ollie?”
“That sombitch the Ayatolja of Iran,” he says. “We is fixin to make a fool of him an get back our hostages, too, and while we are at it, we gonna do in them communist jackoffs in Central America, as well. It is the scheme of a lifetime, Mr. President!”
“Yeah? How you gonna do all that, Ollie?”
“Well,” say the colonel, “all it takes is a little tact and diplomacy—Now, here is my plan...”
For the next few hours the colonel he explainin his scheme to the President. Once or twice the President dozed off, an the colonel had to stop an wake him up by ticklin his nose with a feather he kept in his uniform pocket for that purpose. I did not foller much of Colonel North’s stuff, account of everthin seemed to depend on everthin else an they was a bunch of names thowed out that was just about unpronounceable. When he was finished, I didn’t understand any more about what we is sposed to do than when he started, but I figgered the President did.
“Yeah, Ollie, that all sounds pretty good to me, whatever it was, but let me ask you this: What is the Ayatolja of Iran got to do with it?” the President says.
“Huh?” say the colonel. “Why, the Ayatolja is the plan! Don’t you see—arms for hostages! An then we use the money they pay us to finance the gorillas fighting in Nicaragua! It couldn’t be neater, Mr. President!”
Me, I was wonderin why the gorillas in Nicaragua was fightin, an it reminded me of ole Sue.
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