David Goodis - The Blonde on the Street Corner

“Keep it,” Ken said.

“I like to pay my own way.”

“Shut up,” Ken said.

The train came. They got in. The train was crowded. There were no seats. The train lurched. Dippy nearly fell on the floor.

There was a drunk near the door. He was a big man. He wore work clothes. He had worked hard for a week and now it was Saturday night and he was drunk. He said, “Next stop — Hanker Crossing. Next stop — Hanker Crossing.”

“You’re wrong,” Dippy said. “Next stop is Allegheny Avenue.”

A few people laughed. Ken said, “Don’t monkey with him. He’s got a mean drunk on.”

Dippy said, “Next stop — Allegheny.”

The drunk looked at Dippy and said, “You telling me what the next stop is?”

“Next stop — Allegheny,” Dippy said.

George said, “Cut it out. It’s too early at night to start trouble.”

“I’m not starting trouble,” Dippy said. “The next stop is Allegheny Avenue. Everybody knows that.”

The drunk took a step toward Dippy and nearly fell as the train lurched. He growled, “I don’t know it.”

“Well, you’re finding out,” Dippy said.

“Yeah?” the drunk said.

“Yeah,” Dippy said.

Ken whispered, “Now shut up, Dippy—”

“Listen,” the drunk said, “I was born in Hanker Crossing, in Nebraska.”

Dippy said, “I don’t care if you were born in Salt Lake City.”

A lot of people laughed. Ken said to George, “This maniac Dippy is gonna get us in another fight. I know it.”

The drunk said, “Next stop is Hanker Crossing.”

“Next stop is Allegheny Avenue,” Dippy said.

“Are you insulting my home town?” the drunk said. “Are you insulting good ol’ Hanker Crossing?”

“I never heard of Hanker Crossing,” Dippy said.

“That’s an insult!” the drunk roared. “Why, I’ll pitch you right through one of these windows.”

“I’ll bet a hundred dollars you can’t do it,” Dippy said.

The people were looking at each other and shifting about uneasily. The drunk moved toward Dippy. He was cursing and spitting and his eyes were red and he was mean. Ralph moved toward him and said, “All right, guy-take it easy.”

“Who are you?” the drunk said.

“He’s a professional fighter,” Dippy said.

“I ain’t afraid of no professional fighter,” the drunk said. “I ain’t afraid of anybody. I’ll pitch you and him right out that window together. I’ll clean up this whole train. I’ll fight every man in this train and every man in this town.”

“Don’t start anything, guy,” Ralph said.

“Oh-no?”

“No.” Ralph was getting angry. The guy was drunk, but he knew what he was doing. He was mean and he was showing off.

George said to Dippy, “See? You started something. Now Ralph’s getting excited. It’s gonna end in a fight. You always have to start something.”

Ken whispered in Ralph’s ear, “Just ignore him. He’s got a real mean drunk on. When a guy’s got a mean drunk inside him, he can do a lot of damage.”

George said to Ken, “He don’t hear you. He’s excited now. When he gets excited, nothing can stop him. He’s always been that way, since he was a kid.”

The drunk said, “I’ll take this whole train. Don’t think I can’t do it. And I’ll start with you.”

“Come on,” Ralph said. “Start with me.”

A woman yelled, “Call the conductor!”

Dippy said, “Next stop-Allegheny Avenue.”

The drunk shouted an oath. The train lurched. The drunk fell forward and threw big fists at Ralph’s face. Ralph took one on the jaw. He took another one in the chest. He couldn’t breathe. He closed his eyes and then he opened them fast and saw a fist whizzing toward him. He pulled his head to one side and shot a left to the drunk’s stomach. The drunk doubled and Ralph bashed him in the face with a right and a left and another right and another left. Ralph was crazy now and he didn’t know what he was doing. He saw the drunk going down but he lifted him with an uppercut and hooked him with the left and he had his right set and quivering, like an arrow, and then men were jumping in to stop the fight. The drunk was on the floor. The train lurched again and everybody was falling over one another and women were yelling. George and Ken were holding Ralph’s arms tightly.

Ralph said, “Let me go.”

“We’ll all get arrested,” George said.

The drunk was bleeding from the mouth. He was struggling to break away from the men who held him on the floor. He was shouting oaths and screeching, “Let me up at him! I’ll pitch him right through the window!”

“Go on, let him up,” Ralph said.

“Call the police station,” a woman said.

Ken turned and said, “Aw, shut up, lady.”

The woman said, “Don’t you tell me to shut up, you young hoodlum. You oughta be in jail. I got three sons and I’m a mother.”

“That’s fine,” Dippy said. “I got three mothers.”

“You too,” the woman said. “You started the whole thing. It’s a disgrace.”

“Let me at him!” the drunk was yelling.

Ken said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

George pulled Ralph away from all the noise and excitement. The four of them made their way through the crowd and walked into the next car. They kept moving from car to car and then they were in the first car.

Ralph looked at his knuckles. They were skinned. He put fingers to his jaw and said, “Is it swollen?”

“No,” Ken said. “You don’t have a mark on you.”

George looked at Dippy and said, “You fool you.”

“What is this?” Dippy said.

Ralph looked at the floor and shook his head slowly. “I didn’t want to hit him. He started it. Didn’t he start it?”

“Sure,” George said. “He had it coming to him.”

“I didn’t want to hit him. He was drunk. He couldn’t fight back,” Ralph said. He kept shaking his head slowly.

He was ashamed of himself. He looked up and frowned at Dippy and muttered, “It’s all your fault.”

“Why did you have to start with him?” Ralph said.

“I only expressed a point of view,” Dippy said.

Ralph looked at the floor. He felt sick. He forgot the burning pain in the knuckles, the throbbing pain in his jaw. He was thinking about the blood coming from the drunk’s mouth, and the hurt blended with rage in the drunk’s red eyes, and it made him sick and very low and he said, “Let’s forget about it.”

George and Ken looked at each other. Dippy looked at the advertisement cards above Ralph’s head. The subway train screeched as it lanced its way southward through the city.

Four girls sat in a small living room in a small house. They sat waiting.

Agnes Donahue looked at the clock. “They ought to be here soon.”

“Maybe they’re not coming,” Mabel said.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Pauline said.

“I’m expecting the worst,” Mabel said.

“Well, what do you want, movie actors?” Agnes snapped. She was twenty-four years old. She was very homely. She was unemployed. She lived here with her widowed mother and her two sisters and her three brothers. Tonight she had chased them out of the house. There had been a terrific fight. Agnes had cried and punched one of her brothers in the eye. The mother had cried. Agnes had screamed that she didn’t have any boy friends and now that she had a chance to meet somebody and maybe get married, the goddam family was ruining it for her. The mother and the two sisters and the three brothers had finally walked out of the house.

Mabel said, “I don’t think they’re coming.”

“Oh, shut up,” Pauline said. Pauline was tall and very thin and had buck teeth and freckles. She was twenty-five. She was unemployed.