“Who. You and her.”
“No. You and me.”
“So why should we be suddenly friends again Al.”
“Well I’ll be up front. To avoid you dragging her good name through the courts.”
“Hey Al. Am I hearing you right. Am I. Dragging her through the courts. I’m the fucking defendant remember. The two of you are suing me. It was your knees nearly ruptured her tits landing on her chest. Remember. And I should get married. Holy mackerel. Thanks for picking the wife for me.”
“Not only is she beautiful. She has the most sexy telephone voice in the world.”
“So that’s wonderful. She should keep in telephone contact. Or am I supposed to now set up an answering service for freaks. Or what. Are you recently Al some kind of pervert. Maybe getting your engorgements on my telephone bill.”
“Yeah I was. I admit it. I had an erection.”
“You had an erection Al. Will wonders never cease. Maybe in morse code she could give you an orgasm.”
“You’re such a damn wise guy, aren’t you.”
“So your telephone erection Al. What’s it supposed to do with me. Tell me. I mean it’s swell. I mean I hope you get them watching television and listening to the radio too.”
“Sigmund this was a friendly communication. But I’m not going to stand for one more second of your shit.”
“My shit. You mean your shit. Al relax. Before you have a coronary. If it’s any consolation to you she gives me an erection. Even as she was stark naked draped over the edge of the bathtub upstairs.”
“What did you say.”
“I said draped over the bathtub.”
“What.”
“Yeah, I found her under the water Al.”
“You found her under the water.”
“Here we go again Al. That’s right Al. I found her under the water. Bubbles coming up out of her mouth.”
“Why you son of a bitch she needs oxygen. You drowned her.”
“We’re into the routine again Al. Next tell me you’re going to kill me. For what I done to her. Which she done to herself. Which if you had any sense you’d get it through your head Al that she is always doing to herself. She’s still alive. But I’m reassured she gets all her practice in suicide because it runs in the family.”
“If I could get my hands on your bare fucking neck.”
“Cut it out Al. I’ve had enough from the two of you. I’m not going to spend the rest of my natural life like a fucking hospital nurse in a loony bin. What the hell is it with you Al that you’re telling me to marry her so much. You talk like you’re in love with her.”
“I am.”
“That’s great. So why don’t you bring her up the aisle, feed, clothe and house her. Like recently she’s talking about palaces.”
“Because she’s just that little bit too young yet to have the necessary insight to know that somebody mellow and mature like me, with my beautiful mind, wit, sensibility, love of life, and who doesn’t want to hurt people, is right for her at my older age.”
“Who doesn’t want to hurt people, Al. You were around here attempting grievous bodily harm in this hall.”
“For her I’d kill.”
“Jesus Al. You’re having a geriatric breakdown.”
“All it is, wise guy is I can’t give her as much of my future as she can give me of hers.”
“So in the prime of my youth you want to stick me with her with the thousands of gorgeous girls around I haven’t fucked yet. Thanks a lot Al.”
“Hey by the way shouldn’t you go upstairs and see if she’s all right.”
“No Al I shouldn’t. But just think a second how long it took you to ask that question.”
“Jesus wise guy you got a lot to answer for you have.”
“That’s right. But I’ll tell you why Al I don’t go upstairs if you’d shut up sermonizing me for just one second. So are you listening.”
“Yeah for one second.”
“The reason I don’t go upstairs to see if she’s all right is because she is wrapped up in a towel or maybe my dressing gown and is hanging her tits and ears over the bannister at this very moment listening to every fucking word I’m saying on this phone. That’s why.”
“I don’t know what to say to you. I should hang up. I just don’t know what to say.”
“And Al as soon as I hang up she will rush back into the bathroom, take off the towel and dressing gown, lay herself back into the bath, drape her beautiful tits over the side of the tub and make like she’s fucking unconscious again.”
“Jesus I really am dumbfounded and speechless. I don’t know what to say to you.”
“I’ll tell you what to say Al. Just say that good old Sigmund Franz Schultz knows what he’s talking about for a change. That he’s seen plenty of women in his time. And that he knows what they want.”
“O.K. Rabbi Schultz. Lecture me. What do they want.”
“They want everything Al. Everything. A guy’s guts, his balls, his prick, his money, his life insurance. But more than just that they want his imprisoned proximity. To make sure he doesn’t have the juice left to fuck anyone else when they’re finished with him. And you know what I want Al. You there Al.”
“I’m here. And Jesus christ it’s a disgrace. That an American, a fellow American should end up talking talk like this. When was the last time you pledged allegiance to the American flag.”
“I’d talk like this if I was a fucking Eskimo Al. Pledging allegiance to the north pole.”
“You tell me then mister snowman. What do you want for a wife.”
“I want a woman like my mother. You hear me. My mother.”
“I heard you. The first respectable thing you said so far.”
“You know why Al. Because she would nag me to eat the good soup she made. She would sew my clothes. Iron my shirts. She would rock me to sleep. Whisper comfort to me in pain and disappointment.”
“This is some kind of inverted incest you’re talking about. That’s what I think.”
“That’s right Al. I’d fuck my own mother. You got me figured to a T.”
“You would wouldn’t you if you thought it would get you somewhere.”
“No Al. Not because I think it would get me somewhere. Because I would be giving her back the love she gave me. Which has smothered me.”
“You lurid motherfucker.”
“Go back Al to Ohio.”
“Don’t slander me please. I’m from Michigan.”
“That figures. You’ve got just the right kind of morals. And Al let me criticize your life for a second. With your heart condition who’s fucked more different women than you. Who’s kicked some out of his house.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Four girls. This year alone.”
“There were five. But who’s counting.”
“And you go around clucking like some pious romantic old mother hen. And over a bitch who’s opened her white thighs for the biggest black prick in darkest Africa.”
“Stop Sigmund stop. For Christ’s sakes. This is a serious call I’m making back to you. How long have we known each other. Five years. I’ve remained a friend through each of your flops. Right. Come on. What are you doing tonight.”
“I’m fucking trying to compose my wits and mentality for the busy day I face tomorrow to avoid another fucking flop.”
“So O.K. let me take you two young kids out to dinner. A nice little nosh at the Savoy. How about that. Beluga. All the trimmings.”
“I feel I’m getting trapped Al. No shit. I really feel that. That this is some kind of plan. You got stuck in your brain. You love her. I don’t.”
“Why did you do what you did to her then.”
“Do what Al. I didn’t do anything to her Al which I wouldn’t do to any other gorgeous creature. I can’t resist beautiful women Al. That’s all.”
“So you’re different from any other guy in the world.”
“That’s right. Because unless you c
hange them every five weeks beautiful women are nothing but a pain in the ass.”
“Sigmund. O.K. I accept. You’re just mister cynic. But the Savoy, O.K. In an hour.”
“I ain’t even unpacked Al.”
“So unpack. Get rid of this paranoia out of your life.”
“Let me tell you Al. I just got rid of it. After one of the most blissful few days I’ve ever spent. I don’t want any more hassle. I got enough with the production.”
“Hey how is the production.”
“The production is swell.”
“Good I’m glad to hear it, Sigmund I really am. So come on. A little nosh at the Savoy. If I don’t bring you two kids together at least you can be friends. Besides this is my birthday.”
“Holy shit Al, why didn’t you tell me in the beginning.”
“I’m shy. Besides who wants to go counting years.”
“Happy eightieth birthday. I’ll bring you a few nice red roses. Like a railway car full. Hey wait a second while I run up and see if the subject matter is still there.”
Schultz pulling back and forth on his polka dot tie in marvellous anticipation, tiptoeing back up the stairs. At the half closed bathroom door. Pushing it slowly open. Shit if I could only just catch her getting herself back into her coma position. There’s the corner of the tub. Just push a little more. Get a good gander at the long curvaceous spine from the end of which hangs that marvellous ass. Just peek in. Jesus where is she.
“Hey honey. Holy shit.”
The deluge of cold liquid fresh out of a bucket hit Schultz full in the face. Just as he stepped around the door.
“You scum talk about me like that.”
“Jesus hold it you wildcat what am I blinded with.”
Schultz grabbing in all directions for a towel. Feeling the wind of something sail past his ear. Wiping his eyes to see. A soap dish. Duck. Get out of the way. And the fucking cover hits me in the head. Followed by her nails. Sinking in. And christ, stinging down my face over my just healed scars. Toes of her slippers kicking my shins. Welcome back from the peaceful countryside. Into a hurricane.
“I’ll kill you.”
“You insane bitch. That’s what you’re doing, stop.”
Schultz turned. And ran. Along the hall towards his bedroom door. Pricilla grabbing the polka dot tie flying over his shoulder. Like a lassoed calf Schultz’s head jerked back nearly off his neck. The world going, going, gone black. A dim light. Somewhere. At the end of a damp long passage. Running miles. Through catacombs. Skulls and bones. My violin teacher. The butcher round the corner. Watched him every afternoon. Charlie. Cutting through his meat. His bald head bent. In my own romantic youth. Hovering over me. Slapping my face. Jesus. Where am I.
“Darling, please, wake up, wake up. I didn’t mean it.”
Schultz opening eyes. Rolling over on his hands and knees. Lifted to his feet by Pricilla. Hobbling back and forth outside his bedroom door. Dabbing the blood dripping on his face. Shaking his head, rubbing his neck.
“My adam’s apple is crushed. And holy shit, I left Al on the phone.”
Schultz carefully guiding by the bannister, back down the stairs. Breathing in the perfume. Christ just like my uncle’s funeral. When it was stacked with roses.
“Al.”
“Hey Sigmund, for christ’s sake, what took you so long. I heard like violent noises in the distance.”
“Al, you did. Boy let me tell you. The subject matter is still there. I need a fucking bottle of champagne. See you at the Savoy.”
“I’ll send my limo for you.”
“Thanks Al. Believe me, tonight it would be a big help.”
Pricilla radiant. Her body clinging moss green low cut dress. Milky breasts ready to squirt at you. Carrying a rose. Turning heads everywhere. Smiling at the commissionaire bowing her out of Al’s limousine. Her ass wagging across the pavement under the shiny entrance of this hotel.
“Good evening Mr. Schultz. Good evening Madam.”
“Hi.”
Schultz following through this pink brown marble evening lobby. Pricilla swirled in as if she owned the place. Sweeping past men hopefully and friendly rising half up out of their seats. The hostile eyes of women looking her every inch up and down. And christ they’re even getting to know me. Up these familiar stairs. And through to the bar. Al. Jesus there he is. The son of a bitch. Full of his bonhommie. I think he’s trying to get me to keep this filly in my stable feeding her hay and oats and kicking the shit out of me, while he smells around for a way to shaft her in his king sized celebrity bed. But for some fucking reason I can’t stop loving him. Maybe it’s his bad taste. He’s in another one of his semi-rustic evening numbers which might also do on a grouse moor.
“Pricilla, my darling. And Sigmund. Sigmund. Hey what the hell happened.”
“A cement truck. Hit me Al.”
Al kissing and hugging Pricilla and then taking Schultz’s hand in both of his and pumping up and down. And all seated at the table. The champagne corks popping.
“Hey Al, here’s to you, happy happy birthday. And this is on me.”
“No kids. It’s on me.”
“O.K. Al you convinced me. At the recent price of this stuff, it’s on you.”
Al and his party escorted by half the Savoy’s staff to his table by the window in the River Room. The Beluga heaped up throne center on its tiers of plates in coffers of ice. With more champagne corks popping. And not ten minutes passed shovelling in these fish eggs when who do you think should sweep in. Accompanied by a tail coated major domo, assisted by two waiters taking up the rear.
“Now Sigmund, stay right where you are. Sit down for christ’s sake. Now you’re here, let’s not ruin this pleasant little party. Pricilla’s mother just thought she might drop over. Like for to celebrate my birthday.”
“Well pardon me while I rejoice dropping through the fucking floor like I’m going to do.”
“Don’t you insult my mother like that.”
“I’m not insulting your mother. I’m stating a matter of physical fact. And if I don’t go through the fucking floor I’m going to go through the fucking roof. Which do you want.”
“Come on Sigmund. For your old pal Al. Do this for me. I’m begging you. A whole cake’s coming. With my hard earned candles on it. The orchestra is ready to play my own latest hit tune I composed. Make it a happy family.”
The recent addition to the happy family polished off in one serving flat, the entire remainder of the caviar. Schultz sat through the music, soup, entree. The cake, the sauterne, with his jaw muscles twitching on a stony face. Ordering ice water while Pricilla’s mother ordered everything else from the menu. Her plate empty seconds after her plate was full. And in addition to the food I’m the big subject of interest once more when suddenly the big black King of Boohooland has gone back to his jungle.
“Mr. Schultz I understand your family is in manufacturing textiles. It must be so nice with that business back home to be able to change your interest when your hobby with the theatre gets too dull for you. Of course I hope you will be settling down now with the new event.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Prune I don’t understand. What new event.”
“O of course you know. I don’t have to tell you.”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“My daughter.”
“Yeah.”
“Mr. Schultz. Surely you know she’s pregnant.”
“Pregnant.”
“Aren’t you my dear. The blessed event is expected, November ninth.”
“Well. So November ninth. That’s swell. So.”
“Well as the proud father aren’t you pleased.”
“Pleased. Me. The proud father. Holy shit. I can’t believe my ears, what is this, some kind of blackmail.”
“Sigmund, Sigmund that’s no way to talk. Respect what’s being said. You go right away flying off the handle. Mrs. Prune here just wants to protect her daughter’s interests.”
“Yes Mr.
Schultz. Since my daughter here is with your child. Her chances with the aristocracy are ruined. Now that it’s known all over London. That you’re responsible. We can prove it. If you think blood tests are necessary. And unless you know what’s good for you we’ve got lawyers.”
A barge hooting out on the river. The clink and clatter of cutlery and dishes. The stillness at Schultz’s table. Till a waiter jumping to pick up the chair sent flying backwards, tripped and catapulted into another carrying a massive armful of soups. Schultz ashen faced, managed to stand upright.
“You got lawyers have you. Well I’ll tear the fucking bunch of you to ribbons, and spit you out like tobacco juice. And bury the gang of you in those fucking roses.”
“Be reasonable Sigmund. For the sake of the one and only god come back. Sit down.”
Pricilla’s mother, all two tons of her in a shiny scarlet dress rising up from her seat. Her hands sup porting her monstrous shoulders and bosoms as she leaned forward over her newly replenished plate and now as she shouted, lifting one arm to point in the direction of the departing Schultz.
“That man leaving, inseminated my daughter.”
Schultz making his way out across this familiar room. All its assured sombre plushness. The haunt of ladies and gentlemen. Amazing what new things you notice in old familiar surroundings when the brain has received a shattering shock. The gleaming gold base of the marble pillars holding up the restaurant ceiling. The nearly empty wood panelled lobby. The white frieze high around the wall. Carts, oxen and ladies dancing to flute players. Out under the gleaming canopy of this hotel. Got to look up. A bronze warrior with a shield and spear on the roof. Jesus I should be him. They sounded like the wedding’s all set to happen. How did they do this to me. Excoriate me. Convict me. So I should go marching down the aisle. Into the depths of hell. Or up the steps into the chamber of horror of some fucking registry office. Why didn’t I put a condom on my prick. You want to feel flesh. And Jesus you end up feeling you’re falling into a snake pit. Just when in the incredible bliss of Shangri La I learn from his Lordship what life could be all about. They get together a birthday party. To fuck me. For my whole life.
Outside the revolving doors, Schultz doubled up, hand on his stomach, hobbling back and forth. The doorman calling up Al’s limousine. Schultz unable to lift an arm to wave it away. The concerned commissionaire holding the car door open. Waiting as Schultz bent further over. Both hands across his stomach. And the doorman niftily jumping back. As Schultz delivered from his lips. With a heaving groaning roar. His champagne, caviar, vichyssoise and steak tartare. Into the rear blue soft carpeted interior of Al’s limousine.
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