Seven Stud by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 10
When I got back home I flipped on the PBS station, went into the kitchen and fixed myself something to eat. I brought it back to the couch and fell asleep watching two hoboes sitting on a garbage heap, discussing perennial world problems.
I woke up the next morning to the enjoyable “How to paint”
show, but found no practical use for it. After breakfast I called Acheron.
“Harry’s Fish Emporium,” she said.
“Umm hmm. Hi, it’s Ed. I have great news. Butch and I won again last night and we’re rich!”
She deadpanned; “I’m really impressed.”
I probably deserved that answer, but instead I said; “You do have quite a knack for saying the appropriate thing, don’t you?”
She started laughing, saying; “You know that already. So what did you expect? Where’s the surprise?”
“I don't know. You got me there.” I paused a bit, adding;
“I guess I hoped you’d congratulate me and tell me I’m wonderful or something like that.”
“What’s my share?”
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“I don’t want to get into any conversations with you about money. I’m afraid that I might be violating some stupid law, so tell me about your fish.”
“My fish is over ripe but that law is one most everyone breaks.”
“That’s precisely why I called it a stupid law.”
“How much did you win?”
“$88,000, apiece.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah. So, how about another picnic today?”
“You ask that, despite your financial prowess, I presume.”
“You again described my mindset flawlessly.”
“Sure, how about lunchtime, today?”
“I’ll be there with my basket. Bring your fish.”
She hung up.
I called Butch with my revised foolproof plan.
He said; “Hello.”
“Morning, my wealthy partner. How are you feeling today?”
“I feel like getting drunk.”
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“I spoke to Alice, said too much and now she wants me to quit.”
Silence hung there a bit, broken by my saying; “Why? Does she have an aversion to money? Well, are you gonna?”
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“I don't know.”
“I need a partner and don’t let it get to your big head, but I can’t think of a better one than you.”
Butch laughed; “You know, that’s almost exactly what Alice in Wonderland said, too. She’s starting to think in terms like nest eggs and settling down.”
“Oh, shit.” I sighed, thinking of this as just the start, then dejectedly added; “Well, what did you expect? I’ve told you that girls aren’t generally looking for poor, unemployed guys who live with their parents.”
“I’m still unemployed and live with my parents.”
“Aha, but Alice knows that now changes can be made.”
“Oh, man, I wish she was more like Acheron.”
“What do you know about Acheron?”
“Nothing specific, really, but she seems like someone who values her own space and isn’t anxious to share it permanently.”
“Maybe she never met anyone as loveable as you.”
“Maybe. Listen, I just want to relax and think about things for the rest of the day.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go after you hear what I actually called about. I’m thinking that you and I ought to take a trip to Atlantic City and see what kind of action we can find there.”
“Sounds good to me, but it won’t to Alice.”
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“Who says you have to tell her? She should be happy that in such a short time you’ve stopped drinking and gotten some money.”
“She says I’m just substituting a new addiction – gambling, for the old one -- drinking.”
“She’s a psychologist, too? It must be great to have a multi-talented woman.”
“You have no idea how true that statement is. I think I’m going to go and not tell her. If I had more, there might be some settling down I wouldn’t mind. Let me think about it and get back to you.”
“Good enough, but do me a favor and don’t drink today.”
He said; “Okay, Alice,” and hung up.
I watched PBS until it was time to fill the food basket and see Acheron. In content the mid-morning shows rivaled the fat faced right winger, with whom I was more familiar. However, I was delighted that the participants on PBS did not interrupt each other. I anxiously awaited seeing how they would treat their callers-in, but there weren’t any. While waiting I wondered if it all boiled down to a comedy of manners. I decided to ponder that someday when I become bedridden.
While driving to her house I tried to guess what bit of nonsense Acheron would have waiting. When I knocked, she
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quickly answered, standing there fully naked. She said; “Do you know how many times you can have all this for $88,000?”
While I was trying to do some quick math in my head, as well as the circumstances allowed, she tired of waiting, turned her back to me and bent over saying; “None, stupid.” With that she scampered into the bathroom and dressed for lunch.
The rest of the week was rather uneventful and I considered the possibility that I might too, be acquiring a new addiction; PBS. I felt sorry for the well prepared, well mannered, intelligent commentators and guests, as the dearth of phone calls suggested to me and no doubt them, that almost no one was listening and it was my obligation to pay heed to my learned new friends. I thought about calling in, but was afraid that I’d say something to embarrass myself. I finally decided that if indeed no one or few were listening, no one or few would hear me embarrass myself. I waited for a show that would discuss something in which I had at least some semblance of familiarity.
When one discussed existentialism I took my shot.
A male voice said; “Your question, sir.”
“Thank you. Are we really the sum of our actions?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Then our thoughts, intentions, dreams and loves are of no consequence?”
“None at all.”
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“How do you weigh actions? For instance, does one two hour good deed equal one two hour bad one?”
“Can you define good and bad for us, in this context?”
“No. Perhaps I can rephrase that question. If someone you chose to answer, asked you what you were, or to define yourself, would it be necessary to tell them your entire autobiography?”
The panelists were quiet a while, looking occasionally at each other, until one said; “Matt, would you like to handle that one?”
Not thrilled to be the chosen one, Matt cleared his throat and said; “Oh, yes, yes, thank you. Could I trouble the caller to restate his question? I may have missed part of it.”
I said; “Let me rephrase it slightly. If you chose to define yourself, would telling your life story, devoid of any thoughts or feelings, insofar as your remember it correctly, be necessary.”
“Why would I want to define myself?”
“I don't know. Perhaps I would be interested in acquiring that information and you wanted me to be happy.”
Matt chuckled; saying; “Unfortunately, there would not be enough time to do that on this program. But, I could refer you to the book I wrote five years ago. I think you’ll still find it available. Its title is ‘ Sophistry or Nothingness’.” The group had as much of an amused outburst as I had ever seen and
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while I was scampering for pencil and paper the phone line went dead.
It was Friday and I decided to continue my dialogue with Butch.
“Hello,” he pertly replied.
“Butch, its Ed. Have you decided what to do with your future, if in fact that exists?”
“It exists and I want to play cards.”
“Great. Is Alice okay with that?”
“Probably not, but after she sensed that I was determined to do it, the objections became much less overt.”
“We have to schedule a trip to Atlantic City. My thought is that we go to some casino and get in a game there. I really don’t want to play against the house, especially with all of their surveillance cameras around. We go there, bet minimally and try to meet some people who are part of a big private game.”
“I’ll have my gun with me.”
“I’ll have one too, one of yours.”
“We’ll see.”
“Fine. I’m driving to your house right now and we’ll work out the details.” I hung up and went to my car, but decided instead to walk the back woods to my destination, as I wanted to reflect on something, though I didn’t know what, specifically.
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On the deer trails, I found myself concentrating on the topography more than anything else, primarily to prevent falling. It was a pleasant early fall day. The tall grass was just beginning to show evidence of tan and most of the trees were still in their full fall glory, but some leaves were already lying on the ground yellowing. If this was a portent of things to soon come I hoped that the yellow leaves could be more accurately described as golden rather than being mistaken for bile. I got to the back of his house in thirty minutes, remembering to make use of the day’s brilliant sun, fully exposed in the cloudless sky, for direction. I knocked at the back door and was surprised to be greeted by his father, Sam.
“Hi, Ed. Good to see you.”
I bowed slightly and said; “My continued pleasure.”
“Butch is on the phone with Alice right now and it doesn’t sound like it’s going to be a short call, so let’s chat a bit.”
I took his “chat” to mean a pointed one and though I’d rather be doing any of a number of other things; like being with Acheron or cleaning up dog shit, I properly said; “I’ll be glad to. Butch is doing pretty well, isn’t he?”
“I don’t think he’s been drinking at all, if that’s what you mean. I understand you guys have been doing superbly at some card games.”
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I thought; “Here we go again,” but I said; “Superbly is a word I’m not comfortable with. I would say impeccably in its place,” trying to be jovial, evasive and funny. I laughed.
He politely smiled, offering; “The last game you two were in was big enough to attract guns, correct?”
I honestly answered; “The only guns I knew of were Frank’s Butch’s and some black guy named Alonzo.”
By the look on his face and the temporary silence, I gathered he really didn’t want to hear my last sentence.
Eventually, he merely repeated; “Alonzo had a gun?”
Yeah, but he was just showing it to everybody as part of his comedy routine.”
“I don’t think I’d of been laughing.”
“Well, a lot of people were.”
He expected more of an explanation or at least seemed to think that I should be displaying more concern than my answers were indicating.
He very firmly said; “Do you know what you’re doing or getting into?”
“Frankly, no. All I’m sure of is that it’s potentially very lucrative.”
“So is robbing banks, but I’d strongly advise against it.”
I was feeling just about out of politeness and considered the interrogation at a close. This man wasn’t my father and I’m
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not sure it would have mattered if he were, so I said; “That’s not in the game plan for another year.”
He stared at me for a few seconds and said; “God bless both of you. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”
I continued in my same irritated voice and said; “If you don’t think that I’ve considered the possibility of winding up shot dead, you’re wrong. And, I don’t want any blessing from God. As far as I’m concerned, God did a half assed job giving me the brain tumor and all its attendant problems, so if I manage to die, I’ll only be putting the other half of the ass on his inadequacy.”
Sam’s posture changed to that of disbelief, saying; “You don’t really mean that, do you?”
“No.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because I’m tired of being interrogated. If you want to speak to your son like this, I can understand, but I’m a grown man legally allowed to make his own decisions, or so they say.”
Sam’s position again shifted, when he sadly said; “You’re right. I have been talking to Butch about this and getting nowhere. I hoped to get some clue as to what you two are all about from you.”
I wished Acheron was here to say or do something silly and end the conversation, but was unsuccessful at conjuring her up.
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I said; “What we two are all about? It’s so simple, I’m surprised you ask. We’re two good old American boys, who are trying to bring back the prizes for their girls and are confronted with obstacles incidental and irrelevant to the task at hand.”
“I’m irrelevant?”
“Don’t take it personally, but you are irrelevant to my task.”
“I suppose I should just quietly let you two good old American boys kill yourselves?”
“Why not? The government does it regularly and so does your God. He also says we have free will.”
He acted hurt or befuddled and said; “Who are you mad at?”
“The grand inquisitor.”
Sam surprised me by saying, “I can be a real pain in the ass, can’t I?”
“Yes, but to your credit, when you do it, it’s not a half assed job.” We both smiled, knowingly and sadly.
He led me inside where I saw Butch with the phone to his ear, slumped on a kitchen table chair, staring at the ceiling.
After listening to something for fifteen seconds, Butch said;
“This is the fourth time we’re going around the same block and I’m getting bored. I love you, Alice, I really do, but, you’re going to have to trust me on this one.” He hung up and looked
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toward his father and me and said; “Anybody else have any suggestions, or should I say commands, for me?”
I facetiously said; “It’s only because we love you, we really do.”
Sam made his best smile of the day and watched his feet, as he silently left the room. When he was gone I said; “And this is the command I have for you today; teach me the goddamn fundamentals of using a hand gun.”
“The fundamentals are easy. You stick bullets or a magazine into it and pull the trigger. Then you determine the appropriate target and kill it. It’s the non-fundamentals that I worry about with you.”
“Like?”
“Like, a million things people generally learn through experience. Like don’t pull it out unless you intend to use it.
Like carry it securely tucked away, so that it doesn’t fall on the floor in an embarrassing moment. Like keep it in an empty pocket so that nothing there accidentally pulls the trigger.
Like, if your decide you may have to use it, pull it out and announce loud and clear what you’re doing. Don’t depend on them seeing that you have it. Like, like, like, like........”
“Okay, okay. I got the point. I’m not going to do anything particularly stupid. I’m not an idiot.”
His silence annoyed me, so I added; “Well, am I?”
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He thought for a few moments, looking away from me, as I stared at him. He finally said; “I think we’ve been extremely lucky lately.”
“So.”
“So, I don’t want the lucky streak to end with a bullet up an ass, your own or somebody else’s.”
“I’m glad you love me. But, it’s obvious that Alice is rubbing off on you.”
“Fine, Sundance, but if I accidentally get a bullet anywhere near me, so help me I’ll.......”
“What if it’s not accidentally?”
He said; “End of conversation. Follow me to the garage and I’ll get you fixed up.”
He briskly led me there and showed me how to load and fire a snub-nosed .45. He handed it to me and said; “Now, where are you going to put it?”
“Up my ass,” said I, while I started to put it in my right front pants pocket. He grabbed my hand before I could get it there, saying; “What else is in that pocket?”
“My fucking keys.” Just as the last word came out I recalled what he had previously told me.
He let go of my hand saying; “Keys are one of the best things to accidentally set off a gun.”
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I felt severely stupid and couldn’t think of anything to say. I stood there with the gun in my hand at least ten seconds, before thinking of; “You do need a backup, don’t you?”
“I need a competent backup.”
“All right, Butch, let’s cut this. I’m going to be carrying this gun no matter what you say. You’re going to be carrying a gun and playing cards no matter what your father and Alice say. Some things are just going to be, regardless of anyone’s supposed logic.”
That seemed to register with him and he led me out the garage back door to the yard, then said; “Target practice.” He managed to find six old beer cans and set them up on a low tree branch. After he moved away, I put the gun into firing position and he yelled; “Whoa, partner.”
“What now?” I said.
“You’re 50 feet away. Get closer.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“With a gun, you are. Handguns are only good for about 20
feet, unless you have marksman credentials.” He moved me to a spot at the appropriate distance, which seemed ridiculously close and said; “Take your six shots.”
I gave him a look, extended my arm and fired six times.
While I initially expected to make six hits, I was contented to make three. He said; “Good enough.”
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I proudly followed him back into the garage. He reached for the gun and said; “Let me reload it for you.” While he instructed me on what he was doing, what I didn’t know was that he loaded it with blanks. He handed it back to me saying;
“Here, partner. Don’t use it again until you have to.” I placed it securely in my now keyless pocket.
I said; “When do you want to take that trip to Atlantic City?”
“Day after tomorrow, all right?”
“Sure.”
“I want to spend at least one more day with Alice. You know I love her and in a way it makes me feel good when she worries about me.”
I slapped him on the shoulder and said; “I’ll be here 9AM
day after tomorrow. We’ll hit the road one more time.” I decided to walk down the paved road rather than the back woods.
For some reason I felt safer there. I thought about how good it must be, to feel the way Butch had just described.
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