William Gresham - Nightmare Alley

Bruno Hertz: If only once she would over here look while I have the robe off I would be glad to drop dead that minute. Um Gotteswillen , I would cut my heart out and hand it to her on a plate. Cannot she ever see that? I cannot get up courage to hold her hand in the kinema. Why has a man always to feel over some woman like this? I cannot even tell Zeena how crazy I am for her because then Zeena would try to put us together and then I would feel a dummkopf from not knowing how to say to her. Molly-a beautiful Amerikanische name. She will never love me. I know it in my heart. But I can tear to pieces any of the wolves in the show such as would hurt that girl. If one of them would try, then maybe Molly could see it. Perhaps then she could guess the way I feel and would give me one word for me to remember always. To remember, back in Wien.

“… right over here, folks. Will you step in a little closer? On account of this exhibit ain’t the biggest thing you ever seen; how about it, Major? Ladies and gentlemen, I now present for your edification and amusement Major Mosquito, the tiniest human being on record. Twenty inches, twenty pounds, and twenty years-and he’s got plenty of big ideas for his age. Any of you girls would like to date him after the show, see me and I’ll fix ya up. The Major will now entertain you with a little specialty number of his own, singing and tap-dancing to that grand old number, ‘Sweet Rosie O’Grady.’ Take it away, Major.”

Kenneth Horsefield: If I lit a match and held it right close under that big ape’s nose I wonder if I’d see the hairs in his nose-holes catch fire. Christ, what an ape! I’d like to have him tied up with his mouth propped open and then I’d sit back smoking my cigar and shoot his teeth out one after another. Apes. They’re all apes. Especially the women with their big moon faces. I’d like to sink a hammer in ’em and watch ’em splash like pumpkins. Their great, greasy red mouths open like tunnels. Grease and filth, all of them.

Christ, there it goes. That same crack. The one woman makes it to the other behind her hand. If I see that same hand come up and that same routine once more I’ll yell the goddamned place down. A million dames and always the same goddamned crack behind the same goddamned hand and the other one always champing on gum. Some day I’ll blast ’em. I don’t keep that equalizer in my trunk to play Boy Scout with. And that’s the dame I’ll blast. I’d of done it before now. Only they’d laugh at seeing me hold the butt with one hand and work the trigger with the other.

Joe Plasky: “Thank you, professor. Ladies and gents, I am known as the Half-man Acrobat. As you can see, my legs are both here but they’re not much good to me. Infantile paralysis when I was a kid-they just naturally never growed. So I just made up my mind to tie ’em in a knot like this and forget about ’em and go on about my business. This is the way I get upstairs. Up on the hands. Steady. Here we go with a hop, skip, and a jump. Turn around and down we go, easy as pie. Thank you, folks.

“Now here’s another little number I worked out by myself. Sometimes in a crowded trolley car I don’t have room enough to stand on both hands. So up we go. Steady. And I stand on one! Thank you very much.

“Now then, for my next number I’m going to do something that no other acrobat in the world has ever attempted. A full somersault from a handstand back onto the hands. Are we all set? Let’s go. It’s a good trick-if I do it. Maybe some of you folks in the front row had better move back a couple steps. Don’t bother. I’m just kidding. I’ve never missed yet, as you can see, for I’m still in the land of the living. All right, here we go-up-and over! Thank you very much, folks.

“And now if you’ll just step right in close I’m going to give away a few little souvenirs. Naturally, I can’t get rich giving away merchandise, but I’ll do my best. I have here a little booklet full of old songs, recitations, jokes, wheezes, and parlor games. And I’m not going to charge you a dollar for it, nor even a half, but a cold, thin dime. That’s all it costs, folks, a dime for a full evening of fun and fancy. And with it I’m going to give away, as a special inducement at this performance only, this little paper shimmy-dancer. Hold a match behind the paper: you see her shadow; and this is how you make her shake.

“You want one? Thank you, bud. Here you are, folks-brimful of assorted poems, dramatic readings, and witty sayings by the world’s wisest men. And only a dime…”

Sis wrote me the kids are both down with whooping cough. I’ll send them a box of paints to help keep them quiet. Kids love paints. I’ll send them some crayons, too.

“Sailor Martin, the living picture gallery. Ladies and gents, this young man that you see before you went to sea at an early age. He was shipwrecked on a tropical island which had only one other inhabitant-an old seafaring man, who had been there most of his life-a castaway. All he had managed to save from the wreck of his ship was a tattoo outfit. To pass the time he taught Sailor Martin the art and he practiced on himself. Most of the patterns you see are his own work. Turn around, Sailor. On his back, a replica of that world-famous painting, the Rock of Ages. On his chest-turn around, Sailor-the Battleship Maine , blowing up in Havana Harbor. Now if any of you young fellows in the audience would like an anchor, American flag, or sweetheart’s initials worked on your arm in three beautiful colors, step right up to the platform and see the Sailor. No sissies need apply.”

Francis Xavier Martin: Boy, that brunette working the electric-chair act is a beaut. Have I got what would make her happy and moan for more! Only Bruno would land on me like a ton of tomcats. I wonder if I’ll hear from that redhead in Waterville. God, I can get one on thinking about her yet. What a shape-and knowing right where to put it, too. But this brunette kid, Molly, is the nuts. What a pair of bubbies! High and pointed-and that ain’t no cupform either, brother; that’s God.

I wish to Christ that kraut Bruno would bust a blood vessel some day, bending them horseshoes. Goddamn, that Molly kid’s got legs like a racehorse. Maybe I could give her one jump and then blow the show. Jesus, it would be worth it, to get into that.

“Over here, folks, right over here. On this platform you see one of the most amazing little ladies the wide world has ever known. And right beside her we have an exact replica of the electric chair at Sing Sing prison…”

Mary Margaret Cahill: Don’t forget to smile; Dad always said that. Golly, I wish Dad was here. If I could only look out there and see him grinning up at me everything would be hunky dory. Time to drop the robe and give them an eyeful. Dad, honey, watch over me…

Dad taught Molly all kinds of wonderful things while she was growing up and they were fun, too. For instance, how to walk out of a hotel in a dignified manner with two of your best dresses wrapped around you under the dress you had on. They had to do that once in Los Angeles and Molly got all of her clothes out. Only they nearly caught Dad and he had to talk fast. Dad was wonderful at talking fast and whenever he got in a tight place Molly would go all squirmy inside with thrill and fun because she knew her dad could always wiggle out just when the others thought he was cornered. Dad was wonderful.

Dad always knew nice people. The men were sometimes soused a little but the ladies that Dad knew were always beautiful and they usually had red hair. They were always wonderful to Molly and they taught her to put on lipstick when she was eleven. The first time she put it on by herself she got on too much and Dad burst out laughing loud and said she looked like something from a crib house-and jail bait at that.