Thump over the rim thump miles away thump gone.
'Come into the kitchen, dear,' said Mother, sticking Charles to her arm, 'and we'll make a list.'
Mommy wrecked the nice trip, said Mister Ugly, and is a spider.
You be quiet, Charles is going to the store as if he was somebody. I'll wear the tablecloth and you throw her out the window.
'Come here, dear, Mother will pin the note on.'
'Nacky nacka.'
'Hold still, Charles.'
'Cracky cracka.'
'When you go in the store, show the man the note.'
'Mickey Mouse.'
'Charles, are you feeling all right?'
'Mister Postcard, hello.'
'Are you too sick to go today?'
Be quiet or she won't let you out. Punch yourself in the arm ten times, it'll help.
'Stop punching yourself, Charles, you'll get cancer. Here's a dollar, now put it in your pocket.'
Charles walked towards the faraway door with his stone feet five thousand years
'Don't get lost and don't be long.'
Just go through the door and don't say anything looney or she'll follow you like she used to follow you to school.
'Be careful, Charles.'
Charles tried to control his legs so they wouldn't walk sideways down the wall. One two these are steps. The walls are certainly old, look at that moss.
Paul Fishey hit him in the head with a stone. Sonofabitch. The hallway is empty. We'll see you Easter, Gladys.
You been put on earth for a special mission, don't get lost. On your own planet you are a big shot, over.
Just whistling like a person. Don't jump out the bright window. Don't bump anybody.
Just a flight of steps. Sister, I'm stuck to my desk I can't get loose. Now Charles you must stop disrupting this class. Step just steps down we go and there's the bottom, see? Life's not so bad.
A door opened marked 2. Charles waved his foot. The fat lady came out in her fat lady. Six thousand years I'm stepping towards you
'Hello, Charles.'
'Hello, Mrs. Whatsyourname.' Clicking his fingers behind his back not to get bitten, he walked down the hall towards the front door, rubber. Neck stretch to the ceiling hands drag the floor her door closed he came together.
Good work, Charles, we're going to give you your own tree.
So there was the door. The mouthy wall gabbled on the floor water down the stream she sang windy there is a goon in my suit.
We know, Charles, you're afraid to go through the door.
'No, I'm not. Porky on you, Mister Poopey!'
I'll just circle the crack. The airplane flew over with the mayor. Watch out CHARLES here comes the GIRL floating down the block see her with black stone hair nice she
'Hold on,' said Charles. 'This is a person.' He pressed nose lips to the glass door.
Slip lacies and crack softlies she is going to come through the door CHARLES. You owe me four cents. Nice little shoes going sidewalk sidewalk
You'd like to get away, wouldn't you, she's almost here, carrying her books, don't get excited, these are the best years of your life.
Take your nose away from the glass, maniac, she's coming through don't say anything to scare her.
'Boogle.'
Look at the scarey person on her face
'Google. Boogle.'
That's perfect, Charles, through the lobby she goes without eyes, fast away to the stairs.
I am a hanging around bad person, my teeth will fall out.
Well, it's time to go through the door.
Let's turn around three times to make sure. I hear dishes. Be careful, milky chicken, said Terrible Nobody.
Concentrate on the doorknob, please.
I can be there in forty-five years. All right, how about killing the driver.
Place your hand on the doorknob, Charles.
'Suppose I don't want to.'
We'll let the baboons out of your crack we'll send Doctor Electric with his machine we'll kill you
'Help!'
Turn the knob, please.
HERE COMES THE MAILMAN
Nose lips pressed to glass. The door goes crrrk
'Hello, Mister Mailman.'
'Hello, there.'
'I opened the door for you.'
'Yes, you did.'
'Hello, Mister Mailman.'
Mister Mailman has a pencil behind his ear. He makes the wall fall open. I am an old colouring book, a doggie scribbled on.
'Sure is a lot of mail, Mister Mailman.'
'That's right.'
'A million googies, I bet.'
'Something like that.'
The wall ate all the letters. I got a letter from my friend Nicky Jango.
You're lying, Charles.
'I'm not!'
There, the mailman heard, look at him looking.
Well, Nicky plays with me, you stinky voice, here comes his mother I'm afraid, Mrs. Jabootch, I don't think Charles and Nicky should play anymore.
'Well, so long,' said the mailman.
Opening the door, Mister Mailman, closing the door, I am just an old coloured man.
Get ready, Charles. Go get your clothes and all the things the dogs the dishes don't forget matches and let's go through this door, you're free
First, let's vote.
Get out of my way I'll open that door.
HERE COMES THE BEARDED MAN
In his beard stepping slowly down the sidewalk he comes forever he will say how's it going, man.
Charles the good opens the door for him.
'How's it going, man.'
'They found a carrot in my brain.'
'Sounds like a weird trip.'
Down the bearded stone man goes down the hall all gone.
Well, it's about time Charles opened the door and went out in a white suit through the air
Sunlight crossed the door glass slowly. Charles watched ten thousand years.
Help I can't move!
'Charles, what are you doing here?'
Mommy lady held me someone's mommy voice behind
'You didn't go the store, did you?'
'I'm the doorman.'
'Come upstairs, Charles. You're too sick to go the store today.'
Today
The Bird Watcher
THE TREES GLISTENED in the morning sunlight as Twiller walked down the road with a pack on his back, singing
My heart sighs for you
Tootsie Rayder had sung that song at the junior high school talent show. She'd worn a low-cut gown, and at the last minute the guidance counsellor made her cover up with a handkerchief but she won anyway.
My arms long for you
Please come back to me
Vincent Ferrara, the accordionist, had played Lady of Spain. Now he and Tootsie walked home from school together every day along the railroad tracks and it was said they performed the act in the abandoned switchman's shack. Twiller wished he could play the accordion instead of the clarinet, which honked whenever he blew in it.
He turned off the road on to the ballfield, climbed the right field fence and dropped down beside the smoking dump. It was the end of town.
Alongside the dump was an old grey house.
Twiller walked to the rear of the house and down a flight of broken wooden steps. Knocking three times softly on the cellar door, he called, 'Hello, Spider.'
The window curtain parted for a moment, then closed, and the door opened.
'Come on in, man.'
Twiller stepped into the underground kitchen of Spider Pronko. It was small, dark, and lopsided, with newspapers piled in the corners. Spider sat back down at a card table, where he was drinking a cup of black coffee. Twiller stood looking at a newspaper photograph pasted over the kitchen doorway. It was Spider's old man. He was in jail.
'Comin' tru.' A voice came at Twiller from the dark bedroom and he stepped a
side. Cleaning Lady Pronko came through in pink fur slippers. She had a face like a bulldog and knees like walnuts.
'Don'tchoo go no place wittout doin' dem dishes,' she said, pointing to Spider's cup and saucer.
'Here, man.' Spider threw his cup into the sink, where it shattered.
'The Boy Scout,' said Cleaning Lady Pronko, slapping past them into the bathroom.
Spider walked into the bedroom and opened a bureau drawer.
'Should I bring the rod?'
'No,' said Twiller. Spider's rod was a cap pistol with its chamber bored for real bullets. Gene Autry's face was on the handle and a thick rubber band was wound around it and over the hammer, giving it enough force to shoot a .22 calibre shell. When fired the bullets came out of the barrel sideways in a ball of flame. On their last camping trip Spider fired it into a pile of leaves and burned the woods down.
'Yeah, I'd better leave it,' he said, closing the drawer, 'I'm low on ammo.' He went back to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, taking out a bunch of bananas and a loaf of bread, which he dropped into a paper bag.
The bathroom door opened. Cleaning Lady Pronko stepped out and grabbed the bag from Spider. 'Where you goin' wittat?'
'On a goddamn camping Boy Scout trip!' Spider grabbed the bag back and kicked the refrigerator door shut. A small plastic madonna trembled on top of the box. 'Let's blow,' he said. They went out the door and up the steps.
'When ya comin' back?' called Cleaning Lady Pronko.
Twiller turned to answer, but Spider took him by the elbow. 'Just keep walkin', man.'
They walked up the street and into a narrow alleyway, where they stopped at a small white house among the garages. 'Crutch' Kane was waiting for them on the porch.
'Morning, fellas,' he said and, swinging a pack on to his shoulders, limped down the stairs. He'd been run over by a beer truck several years back, and his right knee was the size of a grapefruit. His mother waved from the front door.
'Goodbye, Stanley.'
'Goodbye, Stanley,' mocked Spider Pronko, smudging Crutch's glasses with two fingers. Crutch's mother often used Cleaning Lady Pronko around the house.
They walked up the alley on to the brick avenue and marched along on the streetcar tracks, Spider singing
She jumped in bed
And covered up her head
And said I couldn't find her
I knew damn well she lied like hell
and I jumped in bed behind her
Twiller and Crutch were wearing their Boy Scout uniforms. Spider wore a black sweat shirt and dungarees. The Scouts of Troop 7 were gathering at the end of the block in front of the old stone church. Spider ran into the crowd. Twiller and Crutch followed, slinging their packs against the wall of the church. A large man with braids on his shoulders and badges on his hat blew a whistle. The patrol leaders gave their commands:
'Beaver Patrol, fall in!'
'Flying Eagle Patrol, fall in!'
'Water Snake Patrol, fall in!'
'Fox Patrol, fall in!'
'Lone Wolf Patrol,' said Twiller, 'fall in!' Crutch Kane fell in. Spider Pronko was gone.
'Report your patrols,' said Scoutmaster Ramsey, removing a notebook from his vest pocket.
'Beaver Patrol, all present and accounted for, sir!'
'Flying Eagle Patrol, all present and accounted for, sir!'
'Water Snake Patrol, all present and accounted for, sir!'
'Fox Patrol, all present and accounted for, sir!'
'Lone Wolf Patrol,' said Twiller, 'one man missing, sir.'
'Where is he?'
'Latrine, sir.'
'See that he gets in line. All right, fellows, stand by. We're loading the cars in a few minutes.'
Twiller did not attempt to get Spider Pronko in line. Twiller had no advanced rank in the troop as he was unable to identify birds, and if he gave Spider the command to fall in, he might get punched out.
Mister Snow, the senior adviser of the troop, waved to Twiller and Crutch. 'In this car, men.' They picked up their gear and climbed into the back seat of his car. Mister Snow was an expert on birds and Twiller was afraid of him.
'Mister Snow was in the trenches,' said Crutch, pointing to a medal hung on the dashboard. 'Ever hear 'im talk?'
'No,' said Twiller. Mister Snow was drill master of the troop. Twiller loved to drill and occasionally he won the weekly drill match, but Mister Snow never remembered his name.
'You hafta get 'im going,' said Crutch.
The front door opened and Spider Pronko crawled in, carrying his paper bag. 'We're shovin' out.'
'Hey, Spider, gimme the old Boy Scout Handshake,' said Crutch enthusiastically, holding out three fingers.
'Here, man.' Spider gave him one finger.
Mister Snow climbed into the other side of the car and slipped behind the wheel. He put his hat on the seat and started the motor. 'Very well, men, we're off.'
With green flags waving from their car aerials, Troop 7 pulled on to the road and drove from the city into the wooded hills. The sun was rising over the mountain tops. A deer darted across the highway and stared at them from the trees.
Spider Pronko whispered into the back seat, 'I shoulda brought the rod.'
'Look,' said Mister Snow, pointing out the window, 'there's a red-hatted nuthatch.'
Twiller looked. The trees went by in a blur. Beside the highway ran a sparkling river. Twiller watched the flashing water and thought about Tootsie Rayder. He'd never held a girl, except once when the troop gave a signalling demonstration at the Deaf and Dumb School and he'd danced with a girl who couldn't talk.
'Hey, Mister Snow,' asked Crutch, 'you were in the trenches, right?'
'That's right.'
Spider sat up. 'What kinda rod'ja have?'
'A revolver.'
'Ever shoot anybody?'
'Listen,' said Mister Snow. 'That's a purple-throated gee-gaw. He says geeble, geeble, geeble.'
The river disappeared in the lowland as they climbed higher up the mountain. They rode for an hour, then turned off the highway and bounced down a dirt road into the forest. Scouts waved and cheered. Crutch shouted, 'O.K., fellas!' and gave the Boy Scout Oath sign out the window. Twiller saw a lake gleaming through the trees.
'Here we are,' said Mister Snow. They drove into a field, and parked alongside a large stone lodge in the trees. Twiller and Spider opened the doors and jumped out. Crutch followed and fell down.
'Careful, men,' said Mister Snow.
'My knee fell asleep,' said Crutch, crawling to his feet and saluting a tree.
Scoutmaster Ramsey blew his whistle.
'Lone Wolf Patrol, fall in!' said Twiller. Crutch Kane fell in. Spider Pronko was gone.
'Fellows,' said Scoutmaster Ramsey, 'we're here as guests of the lodge and I want a good clean camp.'
Twiller saw an old woman in an apron standing on the front porch of the lodge. Behind a sunlit window on the second floor, he saw a face. It was Spider Pronko. Spider saluted the assembled troop with his middle finger and disappeared from the window.
'There's going to be a hike,' said Scoutmaster Ramsey. 'All those going on it meet at the footbridge behind the lodge. The rest of us will work on merit badges—cooking, signalling, and so forth. Choose your campsites carefully and don't set the woods on fire. Here are your bunk designations.'
The Lone Wolf Patrol was assigned to the front porch. Twiller and Crutch carried their gear to the porch. Spider Pronko's paper bag was already there.
They stowed their gear and went into the lodge. Mister Snow was standing in front of a large stone fireplace, looking at the stuffed head of a doe.
'I smell food,' said Crutch. They looked through a doorway, into a large kitchen. In front of the stove stood the old woman. Alongside her was a girl in tight blouse and faded blue jeans.
Crutch stuck his head through the doorway.
'Hubba, hubba.'
'Let's not
collect around the kitchen, men,' said Mister Snow.
Twiller and Crutch went out the back door of the lodge and caught sight of the girl through the kitchen window. 'Boy,' said Crutch, 'I'd like to get her in my sleeping bag.'
'Forget it,' said Twiller. 'One of the Eagle Scouts will get her.'
'I can't forget,' said Crutch. 'I want to give her the Scout Handshake.'
They walked into the field behind the lodge, and down to the footbridge, where the hikers were gathering with their packs. 'Hiking eats it,' said Crutch, limping towards the rippling stream.
Eagle Scout Billy Dalton, leader of the march, went among the hikers, adjusting their packs. 'Not coming, Twiller?'
'No,' said Twiller. Dalton had told him he had the stuff to become an Eagle Scout. At first Twiller had believed it, but now he knew he'd never make it. He'd been in the troop three years and his only merit badge was bookbinding.
'Hey,' said Crutch, 'a prisoner.'
Scoutmaster Ramsey and Mister Snow came across the field with Spider Pronko marching bowleggedly between them. 'Spider wants to go on the hike,' said Scoutmaster Ramsey, turning Pronko over to Eagle Scout Dalton.
'Yes sir,' said Dalton. 'Fall in on the end, Pronko.'
Spider fell in. Crutch gave Twiller the elbow. 'Watch how long old Spider stays in line.'
The troop bugler stepped on to the footbridge and blew Begin-the-March.
'Hey, man, blow that bugle up your ass,' muttered Spider Pronko and the march began. The hikers crossed the footbridge and disappeared into the trees.
'Look,' said Crutch.
The girl was standing in the back door of the lodge.
'Let's have a catch in the field,' said Twiller. He could do some fancy pitching. She might see him from the doorway or the kitchen window.
'Naw,' said Crutch, 'baseball eats it.'
Mister Snow came up behind them. 'What merit badge are you men working on?'
'Bird-watching, sir,' said Twiller.
'What is that bird on the limb right there?'
'Purple gee-gaw, sir.'
'That is a chestnut-sided hong-wobbler.'
'Yes sir.'
'Carry on.'
Twiller and Crutch saluted and walked along the edge of the field, peering into the trees for birds. They went past a rope-tying class in front of the lodge and on down the dirt road. When out of sight of the lodge, they ducked into the woods.