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I axed him what was that, an he say, “Oh, you know, old sport, beads and trinkets, perhaps a mirror or two—a portable radio and maybe a box of good Cuban cigars—and a case or two of booze.”
So this is the kind of deal we is in.
Anyhow, the months go by, an we is harvesting the last cotton crop of the season. Big Sam has done just bout finished the river barge that is to take us thru pygmy country to the town, an the night before we is to leave, they hold a big hoedown to celebrate everthin an also ward off evil spirits.
All the tribe be settin aroun the fire chantin “boola-boola” and beatin on they drums. They has also drug out that big cauldron an got it on the fire steamin an boilin, but Big Sam say it is only a “symbolic gesture.”
We is settin there playin chess, an let me tell you this—I am so excited I am bout to bust! Just let us get near a town or city, an we is long gone. Ole Sue knows the deal too, cause he’s settin over there with a big grin on his face, ticklin hissef under the arms.
We has played one or two games of chess an is bout to finish another, when I suddenly look down, an damned if Big Sam ain’t got me in check. He is smilin so big, all I can see in the dark is his teeth, an I figger I had better get outta this situation quick.
Only problem is, I can’t. Wile I’ve been assin aroun countin my chickens afore they’re hatched, I have put mysef in a impossible position on the chessboard. They ain’t no way out.
I studied that thing for a wile, my frown lit up plain as day from the fire’s reflection off Big Sam’s smilin teeth, an then I says, “Ah, look here—I got to go pee.” Big Sam nod, still grinnin, an I’ll tell you this, it was the first time I can remember when sayin somethin like that got me out of trouble instead of in it.
I went on back behin the hovel an took a pee, but then instead of goin back to the chess game, I went in an got ole Sue an splained to him what the deal was. Then I snuck up on Grurck’s hut an whispered for Major Fritch. She come out, an I tole her too, an say we’d better get our butts outta here afore we is all parboiled or somethin.
Well, we all decided to make a break for it. Grurck, he say he’s comin with us on account of he’s in love with Major Fritch—or however he expressed it. Anyway, the four of us started creepin out of the village an we got down to the edge of the river an was just bout to get in one of the native canoes, when all of a sudden I look up an standin there over me is Big Sam with about a thousan of his natives, lookin mean an disappointed.
“Come now, old sport,” he say, “did you really think you could outsmart this old devil?” An I tell him, “Oh, we was jus goin for a canoe ride in the moonlite—you know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” he say, he knowed what I meant, an then his men grapped us up an haul us back to the village under armed guard. The cookin cauldron is bubblin an steamin to beat the band an they has got us tied to stakes in the groun an the outlook is somethin less than rosy.
“Well, old sport,” Big Sam say, “this is a unfortunate turn of events indeed. But look at it this way, you will at least be able to console yourself by the knowledge that you have fed a hungry mouth or two. And also, I must tell you this—you are without a doubt the best chess player I have ever encountered, and I was the chess champion of Yale for three of the four years I was there.
“As for you, madam,” Big Sam say to Major Fritch, “I am sorry to have to bring your little affaire d’amour with old Grurck here to an end, but you know how it is.”
“No I don’t know how it is, you despicable savage,” Major Fritch say. “Where do you get off, anyway? You oughta be ashamed of yoursef!”
“Perhaps we can serve you an Grurck on the same platter,” Big Sam chuckled, “a little light an dark meat—myself, I’ll take a thigh, or possibly a breast—now that would be a nice touch.”
“You vile, unspeakable ass!” say Major Fritch.
“Whatever,” Big Sam says. “And now, let the feast begin!”
They begun untyin us an a bunch of them jiggaboos hauled us towards the cookin pot. They lifted up po ole Sue first, cause Big Sam say he will make good “stock,” an they was holdin him above the cauldron about to thow him in, when lo an behole, a arrow come out of noplace an strike one of the fellers hoistin up Sue. The feller fall down an Sue drop on top of him. Then more arrows come rainin down on us from the edge of the jungle, an everbody is in a panic.
“It is the pygmies!” shout Big Sam. “Get to your arms!” an everbody run to get they spears an knives.
Since we ain’t got no spears or knives, Major Fritch, me an Sue an Grurck start runnin down towards the river again, but we ain’t no more than ten feet down the path when all of a sudden we is snatched up feet first by some kind of snares set in the trees.
We is hangin there, upside down like bats, an all the blood rushin to our heads, when this little guy come out of the brush an he be laughin an gigglin at us all trussed up. All sorts of savage sounds are comin from the village, but after a wile, everthing quiet down. Then a bunch of other pygmies come an cut us down an tie our hans an feet an lead us back to the village.
It is a sight! They has captured Big Sam an all his natives an has them tied up han an foot too. Look like they is bout to thow them into the boilin pot.
“Well, old sport,” Big Sam say, “seems like you were saved in the nick of time, doesn’t it?”
I nod my head, but I ain’t sure if we isn’t jus out of the fryin pan an into the fire.
“Tell you what,” says Big Sam, “looks like it’s all over for me an my fellers, but maybe you have a chance. If you can get to that harmonica of yours an play a little tune or two, it might save your life. The king of the pygmies is crazy for American music.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Don’t mention it, old sport,” Big Sam say. They lifted him up high an was holdin him over the boilin cauldron, an suddenly he call out to me, “Knight to bishop three—then rook ten to king seven—that’s how I beat you!”
They was a big splash, and then all Big Sam’s trussed-up natives begun chantin “boola-boola” again. Things are lookin down for us all.
16
17
18
19
So this is the kind of deal we is in.
Anyhow, the months go by, an we is harvesting the last cotton crop of the season. Big Sam has done just bout finished the river barge that is to take us thru pygmy country to the town, an the night before we is to leave, they hold a big hoedown to celebrate everthin an also ward off evil spirits.
All the tribe be settin aroun the fire chantin “boola-boola” and beatin on they drums. They has also drug out that big cauldron an got it on the fire steamin an boilin, but Big Sam say it is only a “symbolic gesture.”
We is settin there playin chess, an let me tell you this—I am so excited I am bout to bust! Just let us get near a town or city, an we is long gone. Ole Sue knows the deal too, cause he’s settin over there with a big grin on his face, ticklin hissef under the arms.
We has played one or two games of chess an is bout to finish another, when I suddenly look down, an damned if Big Sam ain’t got me in check. He is smilin so big, all I can see in the dark is his teeth, an I figger I had better get outta this situation quick.
Only problem is, I can’t. Wile I’ve been assin aroun countin my chickens afore they’re hatched, I have put mysef in a impossible position on the chessboard. They ain’t no way out.
I studied that thing for a wile, my frown lit up plain as day from the fire’s reflection off Big Sam’s smilin teeth, an then I says, “Ah, look here—I got to go pee.” Big Sam nod, still grinnin, an I’ll tell you this, it was the first time I can remember when sayin somethin like that got me out of trouble instead of in it.
I went on back behin the hovel an took a pee, but then instead of goin back to the chess game, I went in an got ole Sue an splained to him what the deal was. Then I snuck up on Grurck’s hut an whispered for Major Fritch. She come out, an I tole her too, an say we’d better get our butts outta here afore we is all parboiled or somethin.
Well, we all decided to make a break for it. Grurck, he say he’s comin with us on account of he’s in love with Major Fritch—or however he expressed it. Anyway, the four of us started creepin out of the village an we got down to the edge of the river an was just bout to get in one of the native canoes, when all of a sudden I look up an standin there over me is Big Sam with about a thousan of his natives, lookin mean an disappointed.
“Come now, old sport,” he say, “did you really think you could outsmart this old devil?” An I tell him, “Oh, we was jus goin for a canoe ride in the moonlite—you know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” he say, he knowed what I meant, an then his men grapped us up an haul us back to the village under armed guard. The cookin cauldron is bubblin an steamin to beat the band an they has got us tied to stakes in the groun an the outlook is somethin less than rosy.
“Well, old sport,” Big Sam say, “this is a unfortunate turn of events indeed. But look at it this way, you will at least be able to console yourself by the knowledge that you have fed a hungry mouth or two. And also, I must tell you this—you are without a doubt the best chess player I have ever encountered, and I was the chess champion of Yale for three of the four years I was there.
“As for you, madam,” Big Sam say to Major Fritch, “I am sorry to have to bring your little affaire d’amour with old Grurck here to an end, but you know how it is.”
“No I don’t know how it is, you despicable savage,” Major Fritch say. “Where do you get off, anyway? You oughta be ashamed of yoursef!”
“Perhaps we can serve you an Grurck on the same platter,” Big Sam chuckled, “a little light an dark meat—myself, I’ll take a thigh, or possibly a breast—now that would be a nice touch.”
“You vile, unspeakable ass!” say Major Fritch.
“Whatever,” Big Sam says. “And now, let the feast begin!”
They begun untyin us an a bunch of them jiggaboos hauled us towards the cookin pot. They lifted up po ole Sue first, cause Big Sam say he will make good “stock,” an they was holdin him above the cauldron about to thow him in, when lo an behole, a arrow come out of noplace an strike one of the fellers hoistin up Sue. The feller fall down an Sue drop on top of him. Then more arrows come rainin down on us from the edge of the jungle, an everbody is in a panic.
“It is the pygmies!” shout Big Sam. “Get to your arms!” an everbody run to get they spears an knives.
Since we ain’t got no spears or knives, Major Fritch, me an Sue an Grurck start runnin down towards the river again, but we ain’t no more than ten feet down the path when all of a sudden we is snatched up feet first by some kind of snares set in the trees.
We is hangin there, upside down like bats, an all the blood rushin to our heads, when this little guy come out of the brush an he be laughin an gigglin at us all trussed up. All sorts of savage sounds are comin from the village, but after a wile, everthing quiet down. Then a bunch of other pygmies come an cut us down an tie our hans an feet an lead us back to the village.
It is a sight! They has captured Big Sam an all his natives an has them tied up han an foot too. Look like they is bout to thow them into the boilin pot.
“Well, old sport,” Big Sam say, “seems like you were saved in the nick of time, doesn’t it?”
I nod my head, but I ain’t sure if we isn’t jus out of the fryin pan an into the fire.
“Tell you what,” says Big Sam, “looks like it’s all over for me an my fellers, but maybe you have a chance. If you can get to that harmonica of yours an play a little tune or two, it might save your life. The king of the pygmies is crazy for American music.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Don’t mention it, old sport,” Big Sam say. They lifted him up high an was holdin him over the boilin cauldron, an suddenly he call out to me, “Knight to bishop three—then rook ten to king seven—that’s how I beat you!”
They was a big splash, and then all Big Sam’s trussed-up natives begun chantin “boola-boola” again. Things are lookin down for us all.
16
After they done finished cookin big Sam’s tribe, an shrinkin they heads, the pygmies slung us between long poles an carried us off like pigs into the jungle.
“What do you spose they intend to do with us?” Major Fritch call out to me.
“I don’t know, an I don’t give a shit,” I call back, an that were about the truth. I’m tired of all this crappola. A man can take jus so much.
Anyhow, after about a day or so we come to the village of the pygmies, an as you might expec, they has got a bunch of little tiny huts in a clearin in the jungle. They truck us up to a hut in the center of the clearin where there is a bunch of pygmies standin aroun—an one little ole feller with a long white beard an no teeth settin up in a high chair like a baby. I figger him to be the king of the pygmies.
They tumped us out onto the groun an untied us, an we stood up an dusted ourselfs off an the king of the pygmies commence jabberin some gibberish an then he get down from his chair an go straight up to Sue an kick him in the balls.
“How come he done that?” I axed Grurck, who had learnt to speak some English wile he was livin with Major Fritch.
“Him want to know if ape is boy or girl,” Grurck say.
I figger there must be a nicer way to find that out, but I ain’t sayin nothin.
Then the king, he come up to me an start talkin some of that gibberish—pygmalion, or whatever it is—an I’m preparing to get kicked in the balls too, but Grurck say, “Him want to know why you livin with them awful cannibals.”
“Tell him it weren’t exactly our idea,” Major Fritch pipe up an say.
“I got a idea,” I says. “Tell him we is American musicians.”
Grurck say this to the king an he be peerin at us real hard, an then he axe Grurck somethin.
“What’s he say?” Major Fritch want to know.
“Him axe what the ape plays,” say Grurck.
“Tell him the ape plays the spears,” I say, an Grurck do that, an then the king of the pygmies announce he want to hear us perform.
I get out my harmonica an start playin a little tune—”De Camptown Races.” King of the pygmies listen for a minute, then he start clappin his hans an doin what look to be a clog dance.
After I’m finished, he say he wants to know what Major Fritch an Grurck plays, an I tell Grurck to say Major Fritch plays the knives an that Grurck don’t play nothin—he is the manager.
King of the pygmies look sort of puzzled an say he ain’t never heard of anybody playin knives or spears before, but he tell his men to give Sue some spears an Major Fritch some knives an let’s see what sort of music we come up with.
Soon as we get the spears an knives, I say, “Okay—now!” an ole Sue conk the king of the pygmies over the head with his spear an Major Fritch threatened a couple of pygmies with her knives an we run off into the jungle with the pygmies in hot pursuit.
The pygmies be thowin all sorts of rocks an shit at us from behin, an shootin they bows an arrows an darts from blowguns an such. Suddenly we come out on the bank of a river an ain’t no place to go, an the pygmies are catchin up fast. We is bout to jump into the river an swim for it, when suddenly from the opposite side of the river a rifle shot ring out.
The pygmies are right on top of us, but another rifle shot ring out an they turn tail an run back into the jungle. We be lookin across the river an lo an behole on the other bank they is a couple of fellers wearin bush jackets an them white pith helmets like you used to see in Ramar of the Jungle. They step into a canoe an be paddlin towards us, an as they get closer, I seen one of them is got NASA stamped on his pith helmet. We is finally rescued.
When the canoe reach our shore, the guy with NASA stamped on his helmet get out an come up to us. He go right up to ole Sue an stick out his han an say, “Mister Gump, I presume?”
“Where the fuck has you assholes been?” hollared Major Fritch. “We been stranded in the jungle nearly four goddamn years!”
“Sorry bout that, ma’am,” the feller say, “but we has got our priorities, too, you know.”
Anyway, we is at last saved from a fate worse than death, an they loaded us up in the canoe an started paddlin us downriver. One of the fellers say, “Well folks, civilization is just aroun the corner. I reckon you’ll all be able to sell your stories to a magazine an make a fortune.”
“Stop the canoe!” Major Fritch suddenly call out.
The fellers look at one another, but they paddle the canoe over to the bank.
“I have made a decision,” Major Fritch say. “For the first time in my life, I have found a man that truly understands me, an I am not going to let him go. For nearly four years, Grurck an I have lived happily in this land, an I have decided to stay here with him. We will go off in the jungle an make a new life for ourselfs, an raise a family an live happily ever after.”
“But this man is a cannibal,” one of the fellers say.
“Eat your heart out, buster,” says Major Fritch, an she an Grurck get out of the canoe an start back into the jungle again, han in han. Jus before they disappeared, Major Fritch turn aroun an give Sue an me a little wave, an then off they go.
I looked back to the end of the canoe, an ole Sue is settin there twistin his fingers.
“Wait a minute,” I says to the fellers. I go back an set down on the seat nex to Sue an say, “What you thinkin bout?”
Sue ain’t sayin nothin, but they is a little bitty tear in his eye, an I knowed then what was bout to happen. He grapped me aroun the shoulders in a big hug, an then leaped out of the boat an ran up a tree on the shore. Last we seen of him, he is swingin away thru the jungle on a vine.
The feller from NASA be shakin his head. “Well, what about you, numbnuts? You gonna follow your friends there into Bonzoland?”
I looked after them for a minute, then I said, “Uh, uh,” an set back down in the canoe. Wile they was paddlin us away, don’t you believe I didn’t think bout it for a moment. But I jus couldn’t do it. I reckon I got other weenies to roast.
They flown me back to America an tole me on the way how there was to be a big welcome home reception for me, but seems like I have heard that before.
Sure enough tho, soon as we landed in Washington bout a million people was on han, cheerin an clappin an actin like they is glad to see me. They drove me into town in the back seat of a big ole black car an said they was takin me to the White House to see the President. Yep, I been there before too.
Well, when we get to the White House, I’m expectin to see the same ole President what fed me breakfast an let me watch “The Beverly Hillbillies,” but they is got a new President now—feller with his hair all slicked back, puffy little cheeks an a nose look like Pinocchio’s.
“Tell me now,” this President say, “did you have an exciting trip?”
A feller in a suit standin next to the President lean over an whisper somethin to him, an suddenly the President say, “Oh, ah, accually what I meant was, how great it is that you have escaped from your ordeal in the jungle.”
The feller in the suit whisper somethin else to the President, an he say to me, “Er, now what about your companion?”
“Sue?” I say.
“Was that her name?” Now he be lookin at a little card in his han. “Says here it was a Major Janet Fritch, and that even as you were being rescued she was dragged off into the jungle by a cannibal.”
“Where it say that?” I axed.
“Right here,” the President say.
“That’s not so,” I says.
“Are you suggesting I am a liar?” say the President.
“I’m jus sayin it ain’t so,” I says.
“Now look here,” say the President, “I am your commander in chief. I am not a crook. I do not lie!”
“I am very sorry,” I says, “but it ain’t the truth bout Major Fritch. You jus take that off a card, but—”
“Tape!” the President shout.
“Huh?” I says.
“No, no,” says the feller in the suit. “He said ‘take’—not ‘tape’—Mister President.”
“TAPE!” scream the President. “I told you never to mention that word in my presence again! You are all a bunch of disloyal Communist swines.” The President be poundin hissef on the knee with his fist.
“None of you understand. I don’t know anything bout anything! I never heard of anything! And if I did, I either forgot it, or it is top secret!”
“But Mister President,” say the feller in the suit, “he didn’t say it. He only said—”
“Now you are calling me a liar!” he say. “You’re fired!”
“But you can’t fire me,” the feller say. “I am the Vice President.”
“Well, pardon me for saying so,” says the President, “but you are never going to make President if you go aroun calling your commander in chief a liar.”
“No, I guess you’re right,” say the Vice President. “I beg your pardon.”
“No, I beg yours,” the President say.
“Whatever,” say the Vice President, kinda fiddlin with hissef. “If you will all excuse me now, I have to go pee.”
“That’s the first sensible idea I have heard all day,” say the President. Then he turn to me an axe, “Say, aren’t you the same fellow that played ping-pong and saved the life of old Chairman Mao?”
I says, “Yup,” an the President say, “Well what did you want to do a thing like that for?”
An I says, “Cause he was drownin,” an the President say, “You should have held him under, instead of saving him. Anyway, it’s history now, because the son of a bitch died while you were away in the jungle.”
“You got a tv set?” I axed.
The President look at me kind of funny. “Yeah, I have one, but I don’t watch it much these days. Too much bad news.”
“You ever watch ‘The Beverly Hillbillies’?” I say.
“It’s not on yet,” he say.
“What is?” I axed.
“ ‘To Tell the Truth’—but you don’t want to look at that—it’s a bunch of shit.” Then he say, “Look here, I have a meeting to go to, why don’t I walk you to the door?” When we get outside on the porch, an the President say in a very low voice, “Listen, you want to buy a watch?”
I say, “Huh?” an he step over close to me an shove up the sleeve on his suit an lo an behole he must of had twenty or thirty wristwatches aroun his arm.
“I ain’t got no money,” I says.
The President, he roll down his sleeve an pat me on the back. “Well, you come back when you do and we’ll work something out, okay?”
He shook my han an a bunch of photographers come up an start takin our picher an then I’m gone. But I’ll say this, that President seem like a nice feller after all.
Anyhow, I’m wonderin what they gonna do with me now, but I don’t have to wonder long.
It took bout a day or so for things to quiet down, an they had put me up in a hotel, but then a couple of fellers come in one afternoon an say, “Listen here, Gump, the free ride’s over. The government ain’t payin for none of this anymore—you’re on your own now.”
“Well, okay,” I say, “but how bout givin me a little travelin money to get home on. I’m kinda light right now.”
“Forget it, Gump,” they say. “You is lucky not to be in jail for conkin the Clerk of the Senate on the head with that medal. We done you a favor to get you off that rap—but we is washin our hans of your ass as of right now.”
So I had to leave the hotel. Since I ain’t got no things to pack, it wadn’t hard, an I just went out on the street. I walked a wile, down past the White House where the President live, an to my suprise they is a whole bunch of people out front got on rubber masks of the President’s face an they is carryin some kind of signs. I figger he must be pleased to be so popular with everbody.
“What do you spose they intend to do with us?” Major Fritch call out to me.
“I don’t know, an I don’t give a shit,” I call back, an that were about the truth. I’m tired of all this crappola. A man can take jus so much.
Anyhow, after about a day or so we come to the village of the pygmies, an as you might expec, they has got a bunch of little tiny huts in a clearin in the jungle. They truck us up to a hut in the center of the clearin where there is a bunch of pygmies standin aroun—an one little ole feller with a long white beard an no teeth settin up in a high chair like a baby. I figger him to be the king of the pygmies.
They tumped us out onto the groun an untied us, an we stood up an dusted ourselfs off an the king of the pygmies commence jabberin some gibberish an then he get down from his chair an go straight up to Sue an kick him in the balls.
“How come he done that?” I axed Grurck, who had learnt to speak some English wile he was livin with Major Fritch.
“Him want to know if ape is boy or girl,” Grurck say.
I figger there must be a nicer way to find that out, but I ain’t sayin nothin.
Then the king, he come up to me an start talkin some of that gibberish—pygmalion, or whatever it is—an I’m preparing to get kicked in the balls too, but Grurck say, “Him want to know why you livin with them awful cannibals.”
“Tell him it weren’t exactly our idea,” Major Fritch pipe up an say.
“I got a idea,” I says. “Tell him we is American musicians.”
Grurck say this to the king an he be peerin at us real hard, an then he axe Grurck somethin.
“What’s he say?” Major Fritch want to know.
“Him axe what the ape plays,” say Grurck.
“Tell him the ape plays the spears,” I say, an Grurck do that, an then the king of the pygmies announce he want to hear us perform.
I get out my harmonica an start playin a little tune—”De Camptown Races.” King of the pygmies listen for a minute, then he start clappin his hans an doin what look to be a clog dance.
After I’m finished, he say he wants to know what Major Fritch an Grurck plays, an I tell Grurck to say Major Fritch plays the knives an that Grurck don’t play nothin—he is the manager.
King of the pygmies look sort of puzzled an say he ain’t never heard of anybody playin knives or spears before, but he tell his men to give Sue some spears an Major Fritch some knives an let’s see what sort of music we come up with.
Soon as we get the spears an knives, I say, “Okay—now!” an ole Sue conk the king of the pygmies over the head with his spear an Major Fritch threatened a couple of pygmies with her knives an we run off into the jungle with the pygmies in hot pursuit.
The pygmies be thowin all sorts of rocks an shit at us from behin, an shootin they bows an arrows an darts from blowguns an such. Suddenly we come out on the bank of a river an ain’t no place to go, an the pygmies are catchin up fast. We is bout to jump into the river an swim for it, when suddenly from the opposite side of the river a rifle shot ring out.
The pygmies are right on top of us, but another rifle shot ring out an they turn tail an run back into the jungle. We be lookin across the river an lo an behole on the other bank they is a couple of fellers wearin bush jackets an them white pith helmets like you used to see in Ramar of the Jungle. They step into a canoe an be paddlin towards us, an as they get closer, I seen one of them is got NASA stamped on his pith helmet. We is finally rescued.
When the canoe reach our shore, the guy with NASA stamped on his helmet get out an come up to us. He go right up to ole Sue an stick out his han an say, “Mister Gump, I presume?”
“Where the fuck has you assholes been?” hollared Major Fritch. “We been stranded in the jungle nearly four goddamn years!”
“Sorry bout that, ma’am,” the feller say, “but we has got our priorities, too, you know.”
Anyway, we is at last saved from a fate worse than death, an they loaded us up in the canoe an started paddlin us downriver. One of the fellers say, “Well folks, civilization is just aroun the corner. I reckon you’ll all be able to sell your stories to a magazine an make a fortune.”
“Stop the canoe!” Major Fritch suddenly call out.
The fellers look at one another, but they paddle the canoe over to the bank.
“I have made a decision,” Major Fritch say. “For the first time in my life, I have found a man that truly understands me, an I am not going to let him go. For nearly four years, Grurck an I have lived happily in this land, an I have decided to stay here with him. We will go off in the jungle an make a new life for ourselfs, an raise a family an live happily ever after.”
“But this man is a cannibal,” one of the fellers say.
“Eat your heart out, buster,” says Major Fritch, an she an Grurck get out of the canoe an start back into the jungle again, han in han. Jus before they disappeared, Major Fritch turn aroun an give Sue an me a little wave, an then off they go.
I looked back to the end of the canoe, an ole Sue is settin there twistin his fingers.
“Wait a minute,” I says to the fellers. I go back an set down on the seat nex to Sue an say, “What you thinkin bout?”
Sue ain’t sayin nothin, but they is a little bitty tear in his eye, an I knowed then what was bout to happen. He grapped me aroun the shoulders in a big hug, an then leaped out of the boat an ran up a tree on the shore. Last we seen of him, he is swingin away thru the jungle on a vine.
The feller from NASA be shakin his head. “Well, what about you, numbnuts? You gonna follow your friends there into Bonzoland?”
I looked after them for a minute, then I said, “Uh, uh,” an set back down in the canoe. Wile they was paddlin us away, don’t you believe I didn’t think bout it for a moment. But I jus couldn’t do it. I reckon I got other weenies to roast.
They flown me back to America an tole me on the way how there was to be a big welcome home reception for me, but seems like I have heard that before.
Sure enough tho, soon as we landed in Washington bout a million people was on han, cheerin an clappin an actin like they is glad to see me. They drove me into town in the back seat of a big ole black car an said they was takin me to the White House to see the President. Yep, I been there before too.
Well, when we get to the White House, I’m expectin to see the same ole President what fed me breakfast an let me watch “The Beverly Hillbillies,” but they is got a new President now—feller with his hair all slicked back, puffy little cheeks an a nose look like Pinocchio’s.
“Tell me now,” this President say, “did you have an exciting trip?”
A feller in a suit standin next to the President lean over an whisper somethin to him, an suddenly the President say, “Oh, ah, accually what I meant was, how great it is that you have escaped from your ordeal in the jungle.”
The feller in the suit whisper somethin else to the President, an he say to me, “Er, now what about your companion?”
“Sue?” I say.
“Was that her name?” Now he be lookin at a little card in his han. “Says here it was a Major Janet Fritch, and that even as you were being rescued she was dragged off into the jungle by a cannibal.”
“Where it say that?” I axed.
“Right here,” the President say.
“That’s not so,” I says.
“Are you suggesting I am a liar?” say the President.
“I’m jus sayin it ain’t so,” I says.
“Now look here,” say the President, “I am your commander in chief. I am not a crook. I do not lie!”
“I am very sorry,” I says, “but it ain’t the truth bout Major Fritch. You jus take that off a card, but—”
“Tape!” the President shout.
“Huh?” I says.
“No, no,” says the feller in the suit. “He said ‘take’—not ‘tape’—Mister President.”
“TAPE!” scream the President. “I told you never to mention that word in my presence again! You are all a bunch of disloyal Communist swines.” The President be poundin hissef on the knee with his fist.
“None of you understand. I don’t know anything bout anything! I never heard of anything! And if I did, I either forgot it, or it is top secret!”
“But Mister President,” say the feller in the suit, “he didn’t say it. He only said—”
“Now you are calling me a liar!” he say. “You’re fired!”
“But you can’t fire me,” the feller say. “I am the Vice President.”
“Well, pardon me for saying so,” says the President, “but you are never going to make President if you go aroun calling your commander in chief a liar.”
“No, I guess you’re right,” say the Vice President. “I beg your pardon.”
“No, I beg yours,” the President say.
“Whatever,” say the Vice President, kinda fiddlin with hissef. “If you will all excuse me now, I have to go pee.”
“That’s the first sensible idea I have heard all day,” say the President. Then he turn to me an axe, “Say, aren’t you the same fellow that played ping-pong and saved the life of old Chairman Mao?”
I says, “Yup,” an the President say, “Well what did you want to do a thing like that for?”
An I says, “Cause he was drownin,” an the President say, “You should have held him under, instead of saving him. Anyway, it’s history now, because the son of a bitch died while you were away in the jungle.”
“You got a tv set?” I axed.
The President look at me kind of funny. “Yeah, I have one, but I don’t watch it much these days. Too much bad news.”
“You ever watch ‘The Beverly Hillbillies’?” I say.
“It’s not on yet,” he say.
“What is?” I axed.
“ ‘To Tell the Truth’—but you don’t want to look at that—it’s a bunch of shit.” Then he say, “Look here, I have a meeting to go to, why don’t I walk you to the door?” When we get outside on the porch, an the President say in a very low voice, “Listen, you want to buy a watch?”
I say, “Huh?” an he step over close to me an shove up the sleeve on his suit an lo an behole he must of had twenty or thirty wristwatches aroun his arm.
“I ain’t got no money,” I says.
The President, he roll down his sleeve an pat me on the back. “Well, you come back when you do and we’ll work something out, okay?”
He shook my han an a bunch of photographers come up an start takin our picher an then I’m gone. But I’ll say this, that President seem like a nice feller after all.
Anyhow, I’m wonderin what they gonna do with me now, but I don’t have to wonder long.
It took bout a day or so for things to quiet down, an they had put me up in a hotel, but then a couple of fellers come in one afternoon an say, “Listen here, Gump, the free ride’s over. The government ain’t payin for none of this anymore—you’re on your own now.”
“Well, okay,” I say, “but how bout givin me a little travelin money to get home on. I’m kinda light right now.”
“Forget it, Gump,” they say. “You is lucky not to be in jail for conkin the Clerk of the Senate on the head with that medal. We done you a favor to get you off that rap—but we is washin our hans of your ass as of right now.”
So I had to leave the hotel. Since I ain’t got no things to pack, it wadn’t hard, an I just went out on the street. I walked a wile, down past the White House where the President live, an to my suprise they is a whole bunch of people out front got on rubber masks of the President’s face an they is carryin some kind of signs. I figger he must be pleased to be so popular with everbody.
17
Even tho they said they wouldn’t give me no money, one of the fellers did loan me a dollar before I lef the hotel. First chance I got, I phoned home to the po house where my mama was stayin to let her know I’m okay. But one of them nuns says, “We ain’t got no Mrs. Gump here no longer.”
When I axed where she was, the nun say, “Dunno—she done run off with some protestant.” I thanked her an hanged up the phone. In a way, I’m sort of relieved. At least mama done run off with somebody, an ain’t in the po house no more. I figger I got to find her, but to tell the truth, I ain’t in no big hurry, cause sure as it’s gonna rain, she’ll be bawlin an hollerin an fussin at me on account of I lef home.
It did rain. Rained cats an dogs an I foun me a awnin to stand under till some guy come out an run me off. I was soakin wet an cold an walkin past some government buildin in Washington when I seen a big ole plastic garbage bag settin in the middle of the sidewalk. Just as I get close to it, the bag commenced to move a little bit, like there is somethin in there!
I stopped an went up to the bag an nudged it a little with my toe. Suddenly the bag jump bout four feet back an a voice come out from under it, say, “Git the fuck away from me!”
“Who is that in there?” I axed, an the voice say back, “This is my grate—you go find your own.”
“What you talkin bout?” I say.
“My grate,” the voice say. “Git off my grate!”
“What grate?” I axed.
All of a sudden the bag lift up a little an a feller’s head peek out, squintin up at me like I’m some kinda idiot.
“You new in town or somethin?” the feller says.
“Sort of,” I answered. “I’m jus tryin to get outta the rain.”
The feller under the bag is pretty sorry-lookin, half bald-headed, ain’t shaved in months, eyes all red an bloodshot an most of his teeth gone.
“Well,” he say, “in that case I reckon it okay for a little wile—here.” He reach up an han me another garbage bag, all folded up.
“What I’m sposed to do with this?” I axed.
“Open it up an git under it, you damn fool—you said you wanted to git outta the rain.” An then he pull his bag back down over hissef.
Well, I did what he said, an to tell you the truth, it wadn’t so bad, really. They was some hot air comin up outta the grate an it make the bag all warm an cozy inside an kep off the rain. We be squattin side-by-side on the grate with the bags over us an after a wile the feller says over to me, “What’s your name anyway?”
“Forrest,” I says.
“Yeah? I knew a guy named Forrest once. Longtime ago.”
“What’s your name?” I axed.
“Dan,” he say.
“Dan? Dan?—hey, wait a minute,” I says. I thowed off my garbage bag an went an lifted up the bag off the feller an it was him! Ain’t got no legs, an he is settin on a little wood cart with roller-skate wheels on the bottom. Must of aged twenty years, an I could hardly recognize him. But it was him. It was ole Lieutenant Dan!
After he had got out of the Army hospital, Dan went back to Connecticut to try to get back his ole job teachin history. But they wadn’t no history job available, so they made him teach math. He hated math, an besides, the math class was on the secont floor of the school an he had a hell of a time makin it up the stairs with no legs an all. Also, his wife done run off with a tv producer that lived in New Yawk an she sued him for divorce on grounds of “incompatibility.”
He took to drinkin an lost his job an jus didn’t do nothin for a wile. Thieves robbed his house of everthin he had an the artificial legs they had give him at the VA hospital were the wrong size. After a few years, he said, he jus “give up,” an took to livin like a bum. There’s a little money ever month from his disability pension, but most of the time he jus give it away to the other bums.
“I dunno, Forrest,” he say, “I guess I’m jus waitin to die or somethin.”
Dan han me a few bucks an say to go aroun the corner an git us a couple of bottles of Red Dagger wine. I jus got one bottle tho, an used the money for mine to git one of them ready-made sambwiches, cause I ain’t had nothin to eat all day.
“Well, old pal,” Dan say after he has polished off half his wine, “tell me what you been doin since I saw you last.”
So I did. I tole him about goin to China an playin ping-pong, an findin Jenny Curran again, an playin in The Cracked Eggs band an the peace demonstration where I thowed my medal away an got put in jail.
“Yeah, I remember that one all right. I think I was still here in the hospital. I thought bout going down there mysef, but I guess I wouldn’t have thowed my medals away. Look here,” he say. He unbutton his jacket an inside, on his shirt, is all his medals—Purple Heart, Silver Star—must of been ten or twelve of them.
“They remind me of somethin,” he said. “I’m not quite sure what—the war, of course, but that’s jus a part of it. I have suffered a loss, Forrest, far greater than my legs. It’s my spirit, my soul, if you will. There is only a blank there now—medals where my soul used to be.”
“But what about the ‘natural laws’ that’s in charge of everthin?” I axe him. “What about the ‘scheme of things’ that we has all got to fit ourself into?”
“Fuck all that,” he say. “It was just a bunch of philosophic bullshit.”
“But ever since you tole it to me, that’s what I been goin by. I been lettin the ‘tide’ carry me an tryin to do my best. Do the right thing.”
“Well, maybe it works for you, Forrest. I thought it was working for me too—but look at me. Just look at me,” he say. “What good am I? I’m a goddamn legless freak. A bum. A drunkard. A thirty-five-year-old vagrant.”
“It could be worse,” I says.
“Oh yeah? How?” he say, an I reckon he got me there, so I finished tellin him bout mysef—gettin thowed in the loony bin an then bein shot up in the rocket an landin down with the cannibals an bout ole Sue an Major Fritch an the pygmies.
“Well my God, Forrest my boy, you sure as hell have had some adventures,” Dan say. “So how come you are sittin here with me on the grates under a garbage bag?”
“I dunno,” I says, “but I ain’t plannin to stay here long.”
“What you got in mind then?”
“Soon as this rain stops,” I say, “I’m gonna get off my big fat butt an go lookin for Jenny Curran.”
“Where is she?”
“Dunno that either,” I says, “but I’ll find out.”
“Sounds like you might need some help,” he say.
I look over at Dan an his eyes is gleamin from behin his beard. Somethin is tellin me he is the one needs some hep, but that’s okay with me.
Ole Dan an me, we went to a mission flophouse that night on account of it didn’t stop rainin, an Dan, he paid them fifty cents apiece for our suppers an a quarter for our beds. You could of got supper free for settin an listenin to a sermon or somesuch, but Dan say he’d sleep out in the rain afore wastin our precious time hearin a Bible-thumper give us his view of the world.
Next mornin Dan loaned me a dollar an I foun a pay phone an called up to Boston to ole Mose, that used to be the drummer for The Cracked Eggs. Sure enough, he still there in his place, an is damn suprised to hear from me.
“Forrest—I don’t believe it!” Mose say. “We had given your ass up for lost!”
The Cracked Eggs, he says, have broken up. All the money that Mister Feeblestein have promised them is eaten up by expenses or somethin, an after the secont record they didn’t get no more contracts. Mose say people is listenin to a new kind of music now—Rollin Stoned’s or the Iggles or somethin—an most of the fellers in The Cracked Eggs is gone someplace an foun real jobs.
Jenny, Mose say, is not been heard of in a long wile. After she had gone down to Washington for the peace demonstration where I was arrested, she went back with The Cracked Eggs for a few months, but Mose say somethin in her jus wadn’t the same. One time he say, she broke up cryin on the stage an they had to play a instrumental to get thru the set. Then she started drinkin vodka an showin up late for performances an they was bout to speak to her bout it when she jus done up an quit.
Mose say he personally feel her behavior has somethin to do with me, but she never would talk bout it. She moved out of Boston a couple of weeks later, sayin she was goin to Chicago, an that is the last he seen of her in nearly five years.
I axed if he knew any way for me to reach her, an he say maybe he have a ole number she give him jus before she lef. He leave the phone an come back a few minutes later an give the number to me. Other than that, he say, “I ain’t got a clue.”
I tole him to take care, an if I ever get up to Boston I will look him up.
“You still playin your harmonica?” Mose axed.
“Yeah, sometimes,” I say.
I went an borrowed another dollar from Dan an called the number in Chicago.
“Jenny Curran—Jenny?” a guy’s voice say. “Oh, yeah—I remember her. Nice little piece of ass. Been a long time.”
“You know where she’s at?”
“Indianapolis is where she say she was goin when she lef here. Who knows? Got herself a job at Temperer.”
“At what?”
“Temperer—the tire factory. You know, they make tires—for cars.”
I thank the guy an went back an tole Dan.
“Well,” he say, “I never been to Indianapolis. Heard it’s nice there in the fall.”
We started tryin to thumb a ride out of Washington, but didn’t have no luck to speak of. A guy gave us a ride to the city limits on the back of a brick truck, but after that, nobody didn’t want to pick us up. I guess we was too funny-lookin or somethin—Dan settin on his little roller dolly an my big ole ass standin nex to him. Anyhow, Dan say why don’t we take a bus, cause he’s got enough money for that. To tell you the truth, I felt bad about takin his money, but somehow I figgered that he wanted to go, and it would be good to get him outta Washington too.
An so we caught a bus to Indianapolis an I put Dan in the seat nex to me an stowed his little cart in the shelf up above. All the way there he be sluggin down Red Dagger wine an sayin what a shitty place the world is to live in. Maybe he’s right. I don’t know. I’m just a idiot anyhow.
The bus left us off in the middle of Indianapolis an Dan an me is standin on the street tryin to figger out what to do nex when a policeman come up an say, “Ain’t no loiterin on the street,” an so we moved on. Dan axed a feller where is the Temperer Tire Company an it is way outside of town so we started headin in that direction. After a wile there ain’t no sidewalks an Dan can’t push his little cart along, so I picked him up under one arm and the cart under the other an we kep on goin.
Bout noon, we seed a big sign say “Temperer Tires,” an figger this be the place. Dan say he will wait outside an I go on in an they is a woman at the desk an I axed if I could see Jenny Curran. Woman look at a list an say Jenny is workin in “re-treads,” but ain’t nobody allowed to go there cept’n if they works in the plant. Well, I’m just standin there, tryin to decide what to do, an the woman say, “Look, honey, they is bout to get a lunch break in a minute or so, why don’t you go roun to the side of the buildin. Probly she’ll come out,” so that’s what I did.
They was a lot of folks come out an then, all by hersef, I seen Jenny walk thru a door an go over to a little spot under a tree an pull a sambwich out of a paper bag. I went over an sort of creeped behin her, an she’s settin on the groun, an I says, “That shore look like a tasty sambwich.” She didn’t even look up. She kep starin right ahead, an say, “Forrest, it has to be you.”
When I axed where she was, the nun say, “Dunno—she done run off with some protestant.” I thanked her an hanged up the phone. In a way, I’m sort of relieved. At least mama done run off with somebody, an ain’t in the po house no more. I figger I got to find her, but to tell the truth, I ain’t in no big hurry, cause sure as it’s gonna rain, she’ll be bawlin an hollerin an fussin at me on account of I lef home.
It did rain. Rained cats an dogs an I foun me a awnin to stand under till some guy come out an run me off. I was soakin wet an cold an walkin past some government buildin in Washington when I seen a big ole plastic garbage bag settin in the middle of the sidewalk. Just as I get close to it, the bag commenced to move a little bit, like there is somethin in there!
I stopped an went up to the bag an nudged it a little with my toe. Suddenly the bag jump bout four feet back an a voice come out from under it, say, “Git the fuck away from me!”
“Who is that in there?” I axed, an the voice say back, “This is my grate—you go find your own.”
“What you talkin bout?” I say.
“My grate,” the voice say. “Git off my grate!”
“What grate?” I axed.
All of a sudden the bag lift up a little an a feller’s head peek out, squintin up at me like I’m some kinda idiot.
“You new in town or somethin?” the feller says.
“Sort of,” I answered. “I’m jus tryin to get outta the rain.”
The feller under the bag is pretty sorry-lookin, half bald-headed, ain’t shaved in months, eyes all red an bloodshot an most of his teeth gone.
“Well,” he say, “in that case I reckon it okay for a little wile—here.” He reach up an han me another garbage bag, all folded up.
“What I’m sposed to do with this?” I axed.
“Open it up an git under it, you damn fool—you said you wanted to git outta the rain.” An then he pull his bag back down over hissef.
Well, I did what he said, an to tell you the truth, it wadn’t so bad, really. They was some hot air comin up outta the grate an it make the bag all warm an cozy inside an kep off the rain. We be squattin side-by-side on the grate with the bags over us an after a wile the feller says over to me, “What’s your name anyway?”
“Forrest,” I says.
“Yeah? I knew a guy named Forrest once. Longtime ago.”
“What’s your name?” I axed.
“Dan,” he say.
“Dan? Dan?—hey, wait a minute,” I says. I thowed off my garbage bag an went an lifted up the bag off the feller an it was him! Ain’t got no legs, an he is settin on a little wood cart with roller-skate wheels on the bottom. Must of aged twenty years, an I could hardly recognize him. But it was him. It was ole Lieutenant Dan!
After he had got out of the Army hospital, Dan went back to Connecticut to try to get back his ole job teachin history. But they wadn’t no history job available, so they made him teach math. He hated math, an besides, the math class was on the secont floor of the school an he had a hell of a time makin it up the stairs with no legs an all. Also, his wife done run off with a tv producer that lived in New Yawk an she sued him for divorce on grounds of “incompatibility.”
He took to drinkin an lost his job an jus didn’t do nothin for a wile. Thieves robbed his house of everthin he had an the artificial legs they had give him at the VA hospital were the wrong size. After a few years, he said, he jus “give up,” an took to livin like a bum. There’s a little money ever month from his disability pension, but most of the time he jus give it away to the other bums.
“I dunno, Forrest,” he say, “I guess I’m jus waitin to die or somethin.”
Dan han me a few bucks an say to go aroun the corner an git us a couple of bottles of Red Dagger wine. I jus got one bottle tho, an used the money for mine to git one of them ready-made sambwiches, cause I ain’t had nothin to eat all day.
“Well, old pal,” Dan say after he has polished off half his wine, “tell me what you been doin since I saw you last.”
So I did. I tole him about goin to China an playin ping-pong, an findin Jenny Curran again, an playin in The Cracked Eggs band an the peace demonstration where I thowed my medal away an got put in jail.
“Yeah, I remember that one all right. I think I was still here in the hospital. I thought bout going down there mysef, but I guess I wouldn’t have thowed my medals away. Look here,” he say. He unbutton his jacket an inside, on his shirt, is all his medals—Purple Heart, Silver Star—must of been ten or twelve of them.
“They remind me of somethin,” he said. “I’m not quite sure what—the war, of course, but that’s jus a part of it. I have suffered a loss, Forrest, far greater than my legs. It’s my spirit, my soul, if you will. There is only a blank there now—medals where my soul used to be.”
“But what about the ‘natural laws’ that’s in charge of everthin?” I axe him. “What about the ‘scheme of things’ that we has all got to fit ourself into?”
“Fuck all that,” he say. “It was just a bunch of philosophic bullshit.”
“But ever since you tole it to me, that’s what I been goin by. I been lettin the ‘tide’ carry me an tryin to do my best. Do the right thing.”
“Well, maybe it works for you, Forrest. I thought it was working for me too—but look at me. Just look at me,” he say. “What good am I? I’m a goddamn legless freak. A bum. A drunkard. A thirty-five-year-old vagrant.”
“It could be worse,” I says.
“Oh yeah? How?” he say, an I reckon he got me there, so I finished tellin him bout mysef—gettin thowed in the loony bin an then bein shot up in the rocket an landin down with the cannibals an bout ole Sue an Major Fritch an the pygmies.
“Well my God, Forrest my boy, you sure as hell have had some adventures,” Dan say. “So how come you are sittin here with me on the grates under a garbage bag?”
“I dunno,” I says, “but I ain’t plannin to stay here long.”
“What you got in mind then?”
“Soon as this rain stops,” I say, “I’m gonna get off my big fat butt an go lookin for Jenny Curran.”
“Where is she?”
“Dunno that either,” I says, “but I’ll find out.”
“Sounds like you might need some help,” he say.
I look over at Dan an his eyes is gleamin from behin his beard. Somethin is tellin me he is the one needs some hep, but that’s okay with me.
Ole Dan an me, we went to a mission flophouse that night on account of it didn’t stop rainin, an Dan, he paid them fifty cents apiece for our suppers an a quarter for our beds. You could of got supper free for settin an listenin to a sermon or somesuch, but Dan say he’d sleep out in the rain afore wastin our precious time hearin a Bible-thumper give us his view of the world.
Next mornin Dan loaned me a dollar an I foun a pay phone an called up to Boston to ole Mose, that used to be the drummer for The Cracked Eggs. Sure enough, he still there in his place, an is damn suprised to hear from me.
“Forrest—I don’t believe it!” Mose say. “We had given your ass up for lost!”
The Cracked Eggs, he says, have broken up. All the money that Mister Feeblestein have promised them is eaten up by expenses or somethin, an after the secont record they didn’t get no more contracts. Mose say people is listenin to a new kind of music now—Rollin Stoned’s or the Iggles or somethin—an most of the fellers in The Cracked Eggs is gone someplace an foun real jobs.
Jenny, Mose say, is not been heard of in a long wile. After she had gone down to Washington for the peace demonstration where I was arrested, she went back with The Cracked Eggs for a few months, but Mose say somethin in her jus wadn’t the same. One time he say, she broke up cryin on the stage an they had to play a instrumental to get thru the set. Then she started drinkin vodka an showin up late for performances an they was bout to speak to her bout it when she jus done up an quit.
Mose say he personally feel her behavior has somethin to do with me, but she never would talk bout it. She moved out of Boston a couple of weeks later, sayin she was goin to Chicago, an that is the last he seen of her in nearly five years.
I axed if he knew any way for me to reach her, an he say maybe he have a ole number she give him jus before she lef. He leave the phone an come back a few minutes later an give the number to me. Other than that, he say, “I ain’t got a clue.”
I tole him to take care, an if I ever get up to Boston I will look him up.
“You still playin your harmonica?” Mose axed.
“Yeah, sometimes,” I say.
I went an borrowed another dollar from Dan an called the number in Chicago.
“Jenny Curran—Jenny?” a guy’s voice say. “Oh, yeah—I remember her. Nice little piece of ass. Been a long time.”
“You know where she’s at?”
“Indianapolis is where she say she was goin when she lef here. Who knows? Got herself a job at Temperer.”
“At what?”
“Temperer—the tire factory. You know, they make tires—for cars.”
I thank the guy an went back an tole Dan.
“Well,” he say, “I never been to Indianapolis. Heard it’s nice there in the fall.”
We started tryin to thumb a ride out of Washington, but didn’t have no luck to speak of. A guy gave us a ride to the city limits on the back of a brick truck, but after that, nobody didn’t want to pick us up. I guess we was too funny-lookin or somethin—Dan settin on his little roller dolly an my big ole ass standin nex to him. Anyhow, Dan say why don’t we take a bus, cause he’s got enough money for that. To tell you the truth, I felt bad about takin his money, but somehow I figgered that he wanted to go, and it would be good to get him outta Washington too.
An so we caught a bus to Indianapolis an I put Dan in the seat nex to me an stowed his little cart in the shelf up above. All the way there he be sluggin down Red Dagger wine an sayin what a shitty place the world is to live in. Maybe he’s right. I don’t know. I’m just a idiot anyhow.
The bus left us off in the middle of Indianapolis an Dan an me is standin on the street tryin to figger out what to do nex when a policeman come up an say, “Ain’t no loiterin on the street,” an so we moved on. Dan axed a feller where is the Temperer Tire Company an it is way outside of town so we started headin in that direction. After a wile there ain’t no sidewalks an Dan can’t push his little cart along, so I picked him up under one arm and the cart under the other an we kep on goin.
Bout noon, we seed a big sign say “Temperer Tires,” an figger this be the place. Dan say he will wait outside an I go on in an they is a woman at the desk an I axed if I could see Jenny Curran. Woman look at a list an say Jenny is workin in “re-treads,” but ain’t nobody allowed to go there cept’n if they works in the plant. Well, I’m just standin there, tryin to decide what to do, an the woman say, “Look, honey, they is bout to get a lunch break in a minute or so, why don’t you go roun to the side of the buildin. Probly she’ll come out,” so that’s what I did.
They was a lot of folks come out an then, all by hersef, I seen Jenny walk thru a door an go over to a little spot under a tree an pull a sambwich out of a paper bag. I went over an sort of creeped behin her, an she’s settin on the groun, an I says, “That shore look like a tasty sambwich.” She didn’t even look up. She kep starin right ahead, an say, “Forrest, it has to be you.”
18
Well, let me tell you—that were the happiest reunion of my life. Jenny is cryin an huggin me an I’m doin the same an everbody else in re-treads is standin there wonderin what is goin on. Jenny say she is off work in bout three hours, an for me an Dan to go over to this little tavern across the street an have a beer or somethin an wait for her. Then she will take us to her place.
We go to the tavern an Dan is drinkin some Ripple wine on account of they got no Red Dagger, but he say Ripple is better anyhow cause it got a nicer “bouquet.”
Bunch of other fellers is in there too, playin darts an drinkin an arm rasslin each other at a table. One big ole guy seem to be the bes arm rassler of the tavern, an ever once in a wile some feller would come up an try to beat him but couldn’t. They be bettin on it too, five an ten dollars a whack.
After a little bit, Dan whisper over to me, “Forrest, you think you could beat that big bozo over there at arm rasslin?” An I say I dunno, an Dan say, “Well, here’s five bucks, cause I’m bettin you can.”
So I go up an say to the feller, “Would you mine if I set down an arm rassle with you?”
He look up at me, smilin, an say, “Long as you got money, you is welcome to try.”
So I set down an we grapped each other’s hans an somebody say, “Go!” an the rassle is on. Other feller be gruntin an strainin like a dog tryin to shit a peach seed, but in about ten secons I had smushed his arm down on the table an whipped him at arm rasslin. All the other fellers had come gatherin aroun the table an were goin “oooh” an “ahh” an I could hear ole Dan shoutin an cheerin.
Well, the other feller ain’t none too happy but he paid me five dollars an got up from the table.
“My elbow slipped,” he say, “but nex time you come back here I want to have a go at you again, hear?” I nodded an went back to the table Dan was at an give him the money.
“Forrest,” he say, “we may have foun a easy way to make ourselfs some bread.” I axed Dan if I could have a quarter to git me a pickled egg from the jar on the counter, an he han me a dollar an say, “You git anything you want, Forrest. We is now got a way to earn a livelyhood.”
After work, Jenny come over to the tavern an take us to her place. She is livin in a little apartment not too far from the Temperer Tire Company an has got it all fixed up nice with things like stuffed animals an strings of colored beads hangin from the bedroom door. We went out to a grocery an bought some chicken an Jenny cooked supper for Dan an me an I tole her all that had happened since I seen her last.
Mostly, she is curious about Major Fritch, but when I say she run off with a cannibal, Jenny seemed more relaxed bout it. She say life has not exactly been a bowl of cherries for her either durin the past few years.
After she lef The Cracked Eggs, Jenny done gone to Chicago with this girl she met in the peace movement. They had demonstrated in the streets an got thowed in jail a bunch of times an Jenny say she is finally gettin tired of havin to appear in court an besides, she is concerned that she is developin a long police record.
Anyhow, she is livin in this house with about fifteen people an she says they is not exactly her type of persons. Didn’t wear no underwear or nothin, an nobody flushed the toilets. She an this guy decided to take an apartment together, cause he didn’t like where they was livin neither, but that didn’t work out.
“You know, Forrest,” she say, “I even tried to fall in love with him, but I jus couldn’t because I was thinkin of you.”
She had wrote to her mama an axed her to get in touch with my mama to try an find out where I was bein kept, but her mama write her back sayin our house done burnt up an my mama is now livin in the po house, but by the time the letter get to Jenny, Mama done already run off with the protestant.
Anyhow, Jenny said she didn’t have no money an so she heard they is hirin people at the tire company an she come down to Indianapolis to get a job. Bout that time she seen on the television that I am bout to be launched into space, but they is no time for her to get down to Houston. She say she watched, “with horror,” as my spaceship crashed, an she give me up for dead. Ever since, she jus been puttin in her time makin re-treads.
I took her an hole her in my arms an we stayed like that for a wile. Dan rolled hissef into the bathroom, say he’s got to take a pee. When he’s in there, Jenny axe how he gonna do that, an don’t he need hep? an I say, “No, I seen him do it before. He can manage.”
She shake her head an say, “This is where the Vietnam War have got us.”
There ain’t much disputin that either. It is a sad an sorry spectacle when a no-legged man have got to pee in his hat an then dump it over into the toilet.
The three of us settle into Jenny’s little apartment after that. Jenny fixed up Dan a place in a corner of the livin room with a little mattress an she kep a jar on the bathroom floor so he wouldn’t have to use his hat. Ever mornin she’d go off to the tire company an Dan an me would set aroun the house an talk an then go down to the little tavern near where Jenny worked to wait till she got off.
First week we started doin that, the guy I beat arm rasslin wanted a chance to git back his five bucks an I gave it to him. He tried two or three times more an in the end lost bout twenty-five dollars an after that he didn’t come back no more. But they was always some other feller wanted to try his luck an after a month or two they was guys comin from all over town an from other little towns too. Dan an me, we is pullin in bout a hundrit fifty or two hundrit dollars a week, which weren’t bad, let me tell you. An the owner of the tavern, he is sayin he gonna hole a national contest, an git the tv there an everthing. But before that happen, another thing come along that changed my life for sure.
One day a feller come into the tavern that was wearin a white suit an a Hiwaian shirt an a lot of gold jewelry aroun his neck. He set up at the bar wile I was finishin off some guy at arm rasslin an then he come an set down at our table.
“Name’s Mike,” he say, “an I have heard bout you.”
Dan axed what has he heard, an Mike say, “That this feller here is the strongest man in the world.”
“What of it?” Dan says, an the feller say, “I think I got a idea how you can make a hell of a lot more money than this nickel an dime shit you’re doin here.”
“How’s that?” Dan say.
“Rasslin,” says Mike, “but not this piss-ant stuff—I mean the real thing. In a ring with hundrits of thousands of payin customers.”
“Rasslin who?” Dan axed.
“Whoever,” says Mike. “They is a circuit of professional rasslers—The Masked Marvel, The Incredible Hulk, Georgeous George, Filthy McSwine—you name em. The top guys make a hundrit, two hundrit thousand dollars a year. We’s start your boy here off slow. Teach him some of the holds, show him the ropes. Why, I bet in no time he’d be a big star—make everybody a pile of money.”
Dan look at me, say, “What you think, Forrest?”
“I dunno,” I says. “I was kinda thinkin bout goin back home an startin a little srimp bidness.”
“Shrimp!” says Mike. “Why boy, you can make fifty times more money doing this than shrimpin! Don’t have to do it all your life—just a few years, then you’ll have something to fall back on, money in the bank, a nest egg.”
“Maybe I ought to axe Jenny,” I say.
“Look,” Mike say, “I come here to offer you a chance of a lifetime. You don’t want it, jus say so, an I’ll be on my way.”
“No, no,” Dan say. Then he turn to me. “Listen, Forrest, some of what this feller say make sense. I mean, how else you gonna earn enough money to start a srimp bidness?”
“Tell you what,” Mike say, “you can even take your buddy here with you. He can be your manager. Anytime you want to quit, you’re free to do it. What do you say?”
I thought bout it for a minute or so. Sounded pretty good, but usually they is some catch. Nevertheless, I open my big mouth an say the fatal word: “Yes.”
Well, that’s how I become a professional rassler. Mike had his office in a gymnasium in downtown Indianapolis an ever day me an Dan would catch the bus down there so’s I could get taught the proper way to rassle.
In a nutshell, it was this: nobody is sposed to get hurt, but it sposed to look like they do.
They be teachin me all sorts of things—half-nelsons, the airplane spin, the Boston crab, the pile driver, hammerlocks an all such as that. Also, they taught Dan how to yell an scream at the referee, so as to cause the greatest commotion.
Jenny is not too keen on the rasslin bidness on account of she say I might git hurt, an when I say nobody gits hurt cause it’s all put-on, she say, “Then what’s the point of it?” It is a good question that I cannot rightly answer, but I am lookin foward to makin us some money anyhow.
One day they is tryin to show me somethin called “the belly flop,” where I is sposed to go flyin thru the air to lan on top of somebody but at the last minute he rolls away. But somehow, I keep screwin it up, an two or three times I lan right on the feller afore he gits a chance to move out the way. Finally Mike come up into the ring an say, “Jesus, Forrest—you some kind of idiot or somethin! You could hurt somebody that way, a big ole moose like you!”
An I says, “Yep—I am a idiot,” an Mike say, “What you mean?” an then Dan, he say for Mike to come over to him for a secont an he splain somethin to him, an Mike say, “Good God! Is you kiddin?” an Dan shake his head. Mike look at me an shrug his shoulders an say, “Well, I guess it takes all kinds.”
Anyway, bout a hour later Mike come runnin out of his office up to the ring where Dan an me is.
“I’ve got it!” he shoutin.
“Got what?” Dan axed.
“His name! We have to give Forrest a name to rassle under. It just came to me what it is.”
“What might that be?” Dan say.
“The Dunce!” says Mike. “We will dress him up in diapers an put a big ole dunce cap on his head. The crowd will love it!”
Dan think for a minute. “I dunno,” he says, “I don’t much like it. Sounds like you are tryin to make a fool out of him.”
“It’s only for the crowd,” Mike say. “He has to have a gimmick of some sort. All the big stars do it. What could be better than The Dunce!”
“How about callin him The Spaceman?” say Dan. “That would be appropriate. He could wear a plastic helmet and some antennas.”
“They already got somebody called The Spaceman,” Mike says.
“I still don’t like it,” Dan say. He looks at me, an axed, “What you think, Forrest?”
“I don’t really give a shit,” I says.
Well, that was the way it was. After all them months of trainin I am finally bout to make my debut as a rassler. Mike come in to the gym the day before the big match an he has a box with my diaper an a big ole black dunce cap. He say to be back at the gym at noon tomorrow so he can drive us to my first rasslin match which is in Muncie.
That night when Jenny get home I gone into the bathroom an put on the diaper an the dunce cap an come out into the livin room. Dan is settin on his little platform cart watchin tv an Jenny is readin a book. Both of them look up when I walk thru the door.
“Forrest, what on earth?” Jenny says.
“It’s his costume,” say Dan.
“It makes you look like a fool,” she say.
“Look at it this way,” Dan says. “It’s like he is in a play or somethin.”
“He still looks like a fool,” says Jenny. “I can’t believe it! You’d let them dress him up like that an go out in public?”
“It’s only to make money,” Dan say. “They got one guy called ‘The Vegetable’ that wears turnip greens for a jockstrap an puts a hollowed-out watermelon over his head with little eyes cut out for him to see thru. Another guy calls himself ‘The Fairy,’ an has wings on his back an carries a wand. Sumbitch probly weighs three hundred pounds—you oughta see him.”
“I don’t care what the rest of them do,” Jenny says, “I don’t like this one bit. Forrest, you go an get out of that outfit.”
I gone on back to the bathroom an took off the costume. Maybe Jenny is right, I’m thinkin—but a feller’s got to make a livin. Anyhow, it ain’t near as bad as the guy I got to rassle tomorrow night in Muncie. He calls hissef “The Turd,” an dresses in a big ole body stockin that is painted to look like a piece of shit. Lord knows what he gonna smell like.
We go to the tavern an Dan is drinkin some Ripple wine on account of they got no Red Dagger, but he say Ripple is better anyhow cause it got a nicer “bouquet.”
Bunch of other fellers is in there too, playin darts an drinkin an arm rasslin each other at a table. One big ole guy seem to be the bes arm rassler of the tavern, an ever once in a wile some feller would come up an try to beat him but couldn’t. They be bettin on it too, five an ten dollars a whack.
After a little bit, Dan whisper over to me, “Forrest, you think you could beat that big bozo over there at arm rasslin?” An I say I dunno, an Dan say, “Well, here’s five bucks, cause I’m bettin you can.”
So I go up an say to the feller, “Would you mine if I set down an arm rassle with you?”
He look up at me, smilin, an say, “Long as you got money, you is welcome to try.”
So I set down an we grapped each other’s hans an somebody say, “Go!” an the rassle is on. Other feller be gruntin an strainin like a dog tryin to shit a peach seed, but in about ten secons I had smushed his arm down on the table an whipped him at arm rasslin. All the other fellers had come gatherin aroun the table an were goin “oooh” an “ahh” an I could hear ole Dan shoutin an cheerin.
Well, the other feller ain’t none too happy but he paid me five dollars an got up from the table.
“My elbow slipped,” he say, “but nex time you come back here I want to have a go at you again, hear?” I nodded an went back to the table Dan was at an give him the money.
“Forrest,” he say, “we may have foun a easy way to make ourselfs some bread.” I axed Dan if I could have a quarter to git me a pickled egg from the jar on the counter, an he han me a dollar an say, “You git anything you want, Forrest. We is now got a way to earn a livelyhood.”
After work, Jenny come over to the tavern an take us to her place. She is livin in a little apartment not too far from the Temperer Tire Company an has got it all fixed up nice with things like stuffed animals an strings of colored beads hangin from the bedroom door. We went out to a grocery an bought some chicken an Jenny cooked supper for Dan an me an I tole her all that had happened since I seen her last.
Mostly, she is curious about Major Fritch, but when I say she run off with a cannibal, Jenny seemed more relaxed bout it. She say life has not exactly been a bowl of cherries for her either durin the past few years.
After she lef The Cracked Eggs, Jenny done gone to Chicago with this girl she met in the peace movement. They had demonstrated in the streets an got thowed in jail a bunch of times an Jenny say she is finally gettin tired of havin to appear in court an besides, she is concerned that she is developin a long police record.
Anyhow, she is livin in this house with about fifteen people an she says they is not exactly her type of persons. Didn’t wear no underwear or nothin, an nobody flushed the toilets. She an this guy decided to take an apartment together, cause he didn’t like where they was livin neither, but that didn’t work out.
“You know, Forrest,” she say, “I even tried to fall in love with him, but I jus couldn’t because I was thinkin of you.”
She had wrote to her mama an axed her to get in touch with my mama to try an find out where I was bein kept, but her mama write her back sayin our house done burnt up an my mama is now livin in the po house, but by the time the letter get to Jenny, Mama done already run off with the protestant.
Anyhow, Jenny said she didn’t have no money an so she heard they is hirin people at the tire company an she come down to Indianapolis to get a job. Bout that time she seen on the television that I am bout to be launched into space, but they is no time for her to get down to Houston. She say she watched, “with horror,” as my spaceship crashed, an she give me up for dead. Ever since, she jus been puttin in her time makin re-treads.
I took her an hole her in my arms an we stayed like that for a wile. Dan rolled hissef into the bathroom, say he’s got to take a pee. When he’s in there, Jenny axe how he gonna do that, an don’t he need hep? an I say, “No, I seen him do it before. He can manage.”
She shake her head an say, “This is where the Vietnam War have got us.”
There ain’t much disputin that either. It is a sad an sorry spectacle when a no-legged man have got to pee in his hat an then dump it over into the toilet.
The three of us settle into Jenny’s little apartment after that. Jenny fixed up Dan a place in a corner of the livin room with a little mattress an she kep a jar on the bathroom floor so he wouldn’t have to use his hat. Ever mornin she’d go off to the tire company an Dan an me would set aroun the house an talk an then go down to the little tavern near where Jenny worked to wait till she got off.
First week we started doin that, the guy I beat arm rasslin wanted a chance to git back his five bucks an I gave it to him. He tried two or three times more an in the end lost bout twenty-five dollars an after that he didn’t come back no more. But they was always some other feller wanted to try his luck an after a month or two they was guys comin from all over town an from other little towns too. Dan an me, we is pullin in bout a hundrit fifty or two hundrit dollars a week, which weren’t bad, let me tell you. An the owner of the tavern, he is sayin he gonna hole a national contest, an git the tv there an everthing. But before that happen, another thing come along that changed my life for sure.
One day a feller come into the tavern that was wearin a white suit an a Hiwaian shirt an a lot of gold jewelry aroun his neck. He set up at the bar wile I was finishin off some guy at arm rasslin an then he come an set down at our table.
“Name’s Mike,” he say, “an I have heard bout you.”
Dan axed what has he heard, an Mike say, “That this feller here is the strongest man in the world.”
“What of it?” Dan says, an the feller say, “I think I got a idea how you can make a hell of a lot more money than this nickel an dime shit you’re doin here.”
“How’s that?” Dan say.
“Rasslin,” says Mike, “but not this piss-ant stuff—I mean the real thing. In a ring with hundrits of thousands of payin customers.”
“Rasslin who?” Dan axed.
“Whoever,” says Mike. “They is a circuit of professional rasslers—The Masked Marvel, The Incredible Hulk, Georgeous George, Filthy McSwine—you name em. The top guys make a hundrit, two hundrit thousand dollars a year. We’s start your boy here off slow. Teach him some of the holds, show him the ropes. Why, I bet in no time he’d be a big star—make everybody a pile of money.”
Dan look at me, say, “What you think, Forrest?”
“I dunno,” I says. “I was kinda thinkin bout goin back home an startin a little srimp bidness.”
“Shrimp!” says Mike. “Why boy, you can make fifty times more money doing this than shrimpin! Don’t have to do it all your life—just a few years, then you’ll have something to fall back on, money in the bank, a nest egg.”
“Maybe I ought to axe Jenny,” I say.
“Look,” Mike say, “I come here to offer you a chance of a lifetime. You don’t want it, jus say so, an I’ll be on my way.”
“No, no,” Dan say. Then he turn to me. “Listen, Forrest, some of what this feller say make sense. I mean, how else you gonna earn enough money to start a srimp bidness?”
“Tell you what,” Mike say, “you can even take your buddy here with you. He can be your manager. Anytime you want to quit, you’re free to do it. What do you say?”
I thought bout it for a minute or so. Sounded pretty good, but usually they is some catch. Nevertheless, I open my big mouth an say the fatal word: “Yes.”
Well, that’s how I become a professional rassler. Mike had his office in a gymnasium in downtown Indianapolis an ever day me an Dan would catch the bus down there so’s I could get taught the proper way to rassle.
In a nutshell, it was this: nobody is sposed to get hurt, but it sposed to look like they do.
They be teachin me all sorts of things—half-nelsons, the airplane spin, the Boston crab, the pile driver, hammerlocks an all such as that. Also, they taught Dan how to yell an scream at the referee, so as to cause the greatest commotion.
Jenny is not too keen on the rasslin bidness on account of she say I might git hurt, an when I say nobody gits hurt cause it’s all put-on, she say, “Then what’s the point of it?” It is a good question that I cannot rightly answer, but I am lookin foward to makin us some money anyhow.
One day they is tryin to show me somethin called “the belly flop,” where I is sposed to go flyin thru the air to lan on top of somebody but at the last minute he rolls away. But somehow, I keep screwin it up, an two or three times I lan right on the feller afore he gits a chance to move out the way. Finally Mike come up into the ring an say, “Jesus, Forrest—you some kind of idiot or somethin! You could hurt somebody that way, a big ole moose like you!”
An I says, “Yep—I am a idiot,” an Mike say, “What you mean?” an then Dan, he say for Mike to come over to him for a secont an he splain somethin to him, an Mike say, “Good God! Is you kiddin?” an Dan shake his head. Mike look at me an shrug his shoulders an say, “Well, I guess it takes all kinds.”
Anyway, bout a hour later Mike come runnin out of his office up to the ring where Dan an me is.
“I’ve got it!” he shoutin.
“Got what?” Dan axed.
“His name! We have to give Forrest a name to rassle under. It just came to me what it is.”
“What might that be?” Dan say.
“The Dunce!” says Mike. “We will dress him up in diapers an put a big ole dunce cap on his head. The crowd will love it!”
Dan think for a minute. “I dunno,” he says, “I don’t much like it. Sounds like you are tryin to make a fool out of him.”
“It’s only for the crowd,” Mike say. “He has to have a gimmick of some sort. All the big stars do it. What could be better than The Dunce!”
“How about callin him The Spaceman?” say Dan. “That would be appropriate. He could wear a plastic helmet and some antennas.”
“They already got somebody called The Spaceman,” Mike says.
“I still don’t like it,” Dan say. He looks at me, an axed, “What you think, Forrest?”
“I don’t really give a shit,” I says.
Well, that was the way it was. After all them months of trainin I am finally bout to make my debut as a rassler. Mike come in to the gym the day before the big match an he has a box with my diaper an a big ole black dunce cap. He say to be back at the gym at noon tomorrow so he can drive us to my first rasslin match which is in Muncie.
That night when Jenny get home I gone into the bathroom an put on the diaper an the dunce cap an come out into the livin room. Dan is settin on his little platform cart watchin tv an Jenny is readin a book. Both of them look up when I walk thru the door.
“Forrest, what on earth?” Jenny says.
“It’s his costume,” say Dan.
“It makes you look like a fool,” she say.
“Look at it this way,” Dan says. “It’s like he is in a play or somethin.”
“He still looks like a fool,” says Jenny. “I can’t believe it! You’d let them dress him up like that an go out in public?”
“It’s only to make money,” Dan say. “They got one guy called ‘The Vegetable’ that wears turnip greens for a jockstrap an puts a hollowed-out watermelon over his head with little eyes cut out for him to see thru. Another guy calls himself ‘The Fairy,’ an has wings on his back an carries a wand. Sumbitch probly weighs three hundred pounds—you oughta see him.”
“I don’t care what the rest of them do,” Jenny says, “I don’t like this one bit. Forrest, you go an get out of that outfit.”
I gone on back to the bathroom an took off the costume. Maybe Jenny is right, I’m thinkin—but a feller’s got to make a livin. Anyhow, it ain’t near as bad as the guy I got to rassle tomorrow night in Muncie. He calls hissef “The Turd,” an dresses in a big ole body stockin that is painted to look like a piece of shit. Lord knows what he gonna smell like.
19
The deal in Muncie is this: I am to get whupped by the Turd.
Mike tell me that on our ride up there. It seem that The Turd has got “seniority” over me an therefore he is due for a win, an bein that it’s my first appearance, it is necessary for me to be on the losin end. Mike say he jus want to tell me how it is from the beginnin so there won’t be no hard feelins.
“That is rediculous,” Jenny say, “somebody callin theyself ‘The Turd.’ “
“He probly is one,” Dan say, tryin to cheer her up.
“Just remember, Forrest,” Mike says, “it’s all for show. You can’t lose your temper. Nobody is to be hurt. The Turd must win.”
Mike tell me that on our ride up there. It seem that The Turd has got “seniority” over me an therefore he is due for a win, an bein that it’s my first appearance, it is necessary for me to be on the losin end. Mike say he jus want to tell me how it is from the beginnin so there won’t be no hard feelins.
“That is rediculous,” Jenny say, “somebody callin theyself ‘The Turd.’ “
“He probly is one,” Dan say, tryin to cheer her up.
“Just remember, Forrest,” Mike says, “it’s all for show. You can’t lose your temper. Nobody is to be hurt. The Turd must win.”