Sherman Alexie - Reservation Blues

For hours, Thomas searched the television for evidence of Indians, clicked the remote control until his hands ached. Once on channel four, he watched three cowboys string telegraph wire across the Great Plains until confronted by the entire Sioux Nation, all on horseback.

We come in friendship, the cowboys said to the Indians.

In Thomas’s dream, the Indians argued among themselves, whooped like Indians always do in movies and dreams, waved their bows and arrows wildly. Three Indian warriors dismounted and grabbed hold of the telegraph wire.

We come in friendship, the cowboys said, cranked the generator, and electrocuted the three Indians. Those three Indians danced crazily, unable to release the wire, and the rest of the Sioux Nation rode off in a superstitious panic.

In his dream, Thomas watched it all happen on his television until he suddenly returned to the summer when Victor and Junior killed snakes by draping them over an electric fence.

Watch this, Victor said as he dropped a foot-long water snake onto the fence. Thomas nearly choked on the smell.

The electric fence belonged to a white family that had homesteaded on the reservation a hundred years ago and never left. All the Spokanes liked them because the white family owned a huge herd of cattle and gave away free beef. The homesteaders built the fence to keep the cows away from the forests, but the cows ignored the pine trees anyway. The fence burned on and on.

Victor and Junior draped a hundred snakes over the fence that summer and dragged Thomas there once or twice a week.

Come on, Victor said to Thomas and put him in yet another headlock. You’re coming with us.

Ya-hey, Junior said. Don’t you think he’s had enough?

I’ll tell you when he’s had enough, Victor said.

Victor and Junior carried Thomas to the fence, where they kept a rattlesnake in a plastic barrel.

Look, Victor said, and Thomas saw the snake.

Where’d you get that? he asked, frightened.

From your momma’s panties, Victor said.

Thomas strained against Victor and Junior, but they pushed him down and held his face close to the barrel.

Grab the fence, Victor said. Or grab the snake.

No, Thomas said.

Wait a second, Junior said, scared as Thomas.

Fence or snake, Victor said.

Thomas looked down at the rattler, which remained still. No sound, no rattles shaking. Then he reached out as if to grab the fence but grabbed the rattlesnake instead and threw it at Victor.

Oh, shit, shit, shit, Victor said and jumped away from the dead snake.

Junior and Thomas laughed.

You think that’s funny? Victor asked as he picked up the rattler. You think that’s funny?

Yeah, Junior and Thomas said.

Victor shoved the snake in Thomas’s face while Junior jumped back.

Eat this, Victor said and pushed the snake against Thomas’s mouth. Thomas tripped, fell to the ground, and Victor shoved that snake at him until the game grew old.

Jesus, Junior said. He’s had enough.

Victor draped the dead snake across the electric fence. It danced and danced, fell off the wire, squirmed its way back to life, and started to rattle.

Oh, shit, Victor said and ran away. Junior and Thomas ran after him, kept running. Soon, in his dream, Victor and Junior ran into a large empty room. Thomas followed them. The three picked up musical instruments and started to practice.

You know, Thomas said between songs. I hope we don’t make it.

Make what? Junior asked.

Make it big. Have a hit song and all that, Thomas said.

Why the hell not? Victor asked.

I don’t know. Maybe we don’t deserve it. Maybe we should have something better in mind. Maybe something bad is going to happen to us if we don’t have something better on our minds.

Like what? Victor asked.

Well, Thomas said, what if we get rich and eat too much? We’ll all get fat and disgusting.

Shit, Victor said. I’m not Elvis.

Ya-hey, Junior said, did you know Elvis was a cavalry scout in a previous life?

In his dream, Thomas strummed the guitar and pleaded with Victor.

Really, Thomas said. I’m scared to be famous.

Well, Junior said, I think we should worry about learning to play our instruments better first.

Yeah, Victor said. And we don’t have nothing to worry about if we keep you as the lead singer anyway.

Yeah, Junior said. And besides, the only famous Indians are dead chiefs and long-distance runners.

In his dream, Thomas looked at his bandmates. He wondered what they really felt. He wondered what those snakes felt on the electric fence. Thomas held his guitar closely and felt its power, then noticed that he was holding Robert Johnson’s guitar. In the dream, he hit a chord, felt a sharp pain in his wrists, but the music tasted like good food.

“What you doing with my guitar?” Victor shouted and ripped Thomas from his dream. Thomas lay on the couch in the Warm Waters’ house with Robert Johnson’s guitar beside him. It’s Victor’s guitar now, Thomas corrected himself.

“I didn’t want it to get cold,” Thomas mumbled, although he had no idea how the guitar ended up in the house, and handed it over to Victor.

“Well, thanks for nothing,” Victor said. “It was hotter than hell outside.”

“Oh, man,” Junior said as he stumbled into the house. “I got a hangover.”

“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Thomas said.

Junior made his way to the kitchen just as Chess and Checkers emerged from their rooms.

“What’s going on?” Checkers asked.

“What’s for breakfast?” Victor asked.

“Your ass on a plate,” Chess said. “Fix it yourself.”

“Oh, a rowdy one,” Victor said. “I like them rowdy.”

Victor opened the refrigerator, pulled out the ingredients for a cheese and vegetable omelet, and cooked up enough for everybody. They were all shocked by Victor’s culinary skills.

“Where’d you learn to cook?” Chess asked. “Prison?”

“My father used to cook,” Victor said.

“Your stepfather?” Junior asked.

“Yeah, only thing he was good for.”

Coyote Springs sat down to breakfast with Chess and Checkers. The omelets tasted great. Victor wanted to say something profound and humorous about eggs but couldn’t think of anything, so he farted instead.

“You’re disgusting,” Chess said, picked up her plate, and walked outside to eat. Thomas gave Victor the old Spokane Indian evil eye and followed her.

Checkers finished her breakfast, washed her plate and fork in the sink, and then returned to her bedroom. Junior and Victor watched her the entire time.

“She’s real pretty, enit?” Junior asked after Checkers closed her bedroom door.

“A great ass,” Victor said.

“You don’t have a chance!” Checkers shouted from her room. Victor and Junior ate the rest of their omelets in silence.

Outside, Chess and Thomas talked between bites.

“You know,” Thomas said, “Coyote Springs is better than we sounded last night.”

“I hope so,” Chess said.

“No, really. Victor and Junior were all drunk.”

“Do you drink?”

“No,” Thomas said, “I don’t drink.”

Chess smiled. When Indian women begin the search for an Indian man, they carry a huge list of qualifications. He has to have a job. He has to be kind, intelligent, and funny. He has to dance and sing. He should know how to iron his own clothes. Braids would be nice. But as the screwed-up Indian men stagger through their lives, Indian women are forced to amend their list of qualifications. Eventually, Indian men need only to have their own teeth to get snagged.