Percival Everett - Suder

So, I’m driving through Portland in Thomas’s station wagon and it’s filled to the gills with cigarettes and plastic bags of gum balls. There’s a box of clear plastic bubbles with little toys inside on the seat beside me and in one of them there’s an eye. The eye is staring right at me and I think of Sid and I think of fat Thomas’s arms wrapped around him. I laugh out loud.

A light rain is starting to fall as I enter this spic-and-span suburb of Portland called Gresham. There are many small houses that look alike and a lot of yellow-haired children that look alike, riding bicycles with banana seats. As I’m driving by the Gresham Mall I see a big tent and there’s a mob of people standing around. The tent looks like the one that was on the waterfront in Seattle. I pull into the parking lot and I’m out of the car, walking toward the tent, and I hear an elephant scream.

I weave through the mob and I push my way into the tent and there’s that same elephant. And that same man is barking his carnival line, but he’s got a new scam.

“Give it a try! Give it a try!” shouts the man. “See if you’ve got the brains to master this enormous beast from the jungles of the Dark Continent. If you can make the pachyderm nod his head ‘yes’ and shake his head ‘no,’ I will give you five hundred dollars, half a grand!”

I stand there for a spell, watching a number of people try to make the elephant move his head. Two boys toss a ball back and forth in front of the elephant without success. This old lady comes bouncing up and down on a pogo stick and the animal’s eyes move up and down, but not his head. I turn around and push through the crowd and I walk back to the car.

I unlock the car and I grab my bat and then I return to the tent. I pay two dollars to try with the elephant and I’m standing in line. The man who was shouting walks up to me and smiles.

“That bat won’t help you this time,” he says.

I don’t say anything.

“What do you say we make a little wager?”

I look at him and nod.

“What’ll we bet?”

I look at him for a second, then I look at the elephant. “If I can do it, you give me the elephant.”

His jaw drops and he looks over at the elephant and then back at me. “And if you can’t?”

“I’ll give you two thousand dollars.”

“Two thousand?”

“Two thousand.”

“It’s a bet.” He shakes my hand and then he steps out into the middle of the tent and waves his arms for silence. A hush falls over the crowd and he turns to me and nods.

I walk out in front of the elephant and the tent is dead quiet and the elephant’s eyes fall slowly to mine. The silence is really annoying and I swallow. I raise the bat and wave it in the elephant’s face. “Remember me?” I ask the elephant. The elephant’s head moves up and down. The crowd goes “Ooooooooooo.” I look around and the silence returns. I look back at the elephant. “Do you want me to do what I did last time?” The elephant moves his head from side to side and the mob of people explodes with cheering. I turn to face the carnival man.

The man’s head is lowered and he’s heaving sighs and then he looks at me with wet eyes. “Do you know how much he eats?” he asks, pointing at the elephant.

I’m silent, petting the animal’s trunk.

“This ain’t no horse!” the man shouts and then he falls to his knees, crying.

The sounds of the crowd fade and the tent is filled with the crying of the man and I’m standing over him. I feel real bad for this fella, but I really do want the elephant. “Don’t cry,” I says to him. “I’ll pay you for him.”

He stops crying and looks at me.

“I’ll give you two thousand dollars for him.”

He gives me a vacant look.

“Five thousand.”

His eyes open wide.

I look at the elephant and then back to the man. “And ten thousand for that truck you got parked out there.”

He’s frowning. “Who are you kidding? What are you going to do? Write me a check?”

“No,” I says and I kneel down beside him. “I got the cash.”

He looks around at all the silent faces and then he whispers, “You got cash?”

I nod.

He stands up and I do, too. “Let’s step outside,” he says.

I follow him through the back flap of the tent and we’re standing by his truck. I’m looking at the tires.

“You know,” he says, “I’m real attached to that elephant.”

“He got a name?”

“I call him Sabu, sometimes. But like I was saying, I’m real attached—”

“Fifteen thousand,” I says, looking him in the eye.

He looks at the truck and peeks back into the tent at the elephant and then he turns to me. He nods.

So, I’m in this truck and I’ve got an elephant in the back and I’m driving into the Cascade mountain range of Oregon. I’m in the vicinity of Mount Hood and I pass through the little town of Parkdale. I drive about a third of the way up this mountain to Lou’s cabin. The cabin is real big and bare and it’s got no electricity. The water comes out of a hand pump, but it’s inside at least. There are a couple of lanterns and a whole stack of candles. The cabin is filled with stuffed animals — there’re a couple of owls hanging from the ceiling and a deer in the corner and a family of squirrels on the windowsill. It’s raining, so I leave the elephant in the truck and hit the sack. It’s just getting dark.

The next morning the sun is out and the birds are singing and the air is thick with the scent of pine. I get out of bed and scratch and it’s real chilly. I walk out and grab a few logs that are stacked and covered with plastic by the front door. I take the wood and start a fire in the potbelly stove in the middle of the cabin. I heat up some water and wash.

When I’m dressed I go and take the elephant out of the truck. I figure that since he’s new to the cabin I should tie him to a tree. That’s what I do — one end of some rope around an ankle, the other around a tree. I fasten him up and stand there for a second, rubbing his trunk. I put the rest of the hay from the truck down in front of the animal and he looks at me like we both should be aware that more hay is needed. I climb into the truck and drive down to Parkdale.

I walk into this little store and there’s this middle-aged fella with buck teeth and a mile of forehead working there.

“You’re new round here, ain’t you?” he asks, showing his big teeth.

“Yeah, I’m staying up at the Tyler place,” I tell him.

“Uh-hmmmmm.”

I gather some things on the counter — things for cooking, and soap, and like that.

“That it?”

I nod.

He looks at the things on the counter. “Looks like about five dollars’ worth.”

I’ve never done business like this before, but I don’t complain. I pay him and he starts putting the stuff in a bag and I ask him where I can get some hay

“How much you need?”

“I don’t know. How much you need for a horse?”

He rubs his chin. “Maybe a quarter ton for a month.”

“I need two tons.”

His eyebrows raise up. “Two?” He scratches his head. “For that much hay you’ll have to go seventy miles. It’s summer.” He looks at me. “How many horses you got up there?”

“I’m going to need some peanuts, too.” I pause. “Fifty … no, a hundred peanuts.”

“What you got up there? An elephant?” He laughs.

I pick up my groceries and leave and I head back up to the cabin. Off the road is a pretty green rolling pasture and in the middle of the pasture is a barn. The barn doors are open and I can see that it’s full of hay. I drive on back to the cabin.