William Vollmann - The Royal Family

A young boy’s milk-white buttocks were wiggling

There was one other kind of really really bizarre scenario, said Smooth. It involved lots and lots of toilet paper. No, you really have to see this.

Here were glowing aliens, shimmering green watercolor-light; the aliens kept bowing toward each others’ middles.

To me this is really erotic, said Smooth. Really really erotic. Almost always, part of it is the fantasy aspect. Now, in this one, I’m the father and he’s the bad boy. I’m saying right here: Are you ready for a B.M. fantasy? and he says yes. I say, lean back in the chair. He says: Danny, I’ve had this fantasy, too.

You think he meant it or he was saying it to get more money out of you?

I think he meant it, Henry. I wasn’t paying him anything.

Tyler refilled his glass.

He’s already fourteen, Smooth went on. I still love him. These things happen. Also, as I was telling you earlier, the whole thing happened in my mind.

You mean he’s just virtual?

Well, it’s a confessional time for me, said Smooth almost shyly. I also really don’t want to like fuck up and do something evil. This scenario is…

His voice became silent for a moment. Then he said: I’ve never hurt anybody, Henry.

I believe you, Tyler said. I guess I’m a Canaanite, just like you said.

The Queen saw that right off, Henry. Don’t think she didn’t. You’re in now, boy.

Smooth swallowed, drummed his fingers, and gazed into Tyler’s face very very earnestly. Finally he whispered: See, there is this other thing. The Queen is so gorgeous sometimes. And always so special to me.

Down the hall from the room upon whose door a sign read DO NOT DISTURB — I DON’T HAVE NOT A THING — PLEASE DON’T KNOCK there was a room on whose door somebody had written and taped a sign which read IF YOU WANT SOMETHING, DON’T ASK. IF YOU REALLY NEED IT, GO ELSEWHERE and across from that door was a door charred and kicked and smeared and scraped, whose upper half had been replaced by plywood already splintered by abuse, and whose doorknob had given way to a handle held in place by two Phillips head screws now worked half out; Tyler had had to turn them in again with the point of his pocketknife; and inside that room, rendered holy by an incandescent doughnut in place of any lightbulb, Dan Smooth was sitting at the foot of the bed like a wise grave doctor; and the junked-out whore named Sunflower, who’d a quarter-hour before stirred the white lump into the rust-colored liquid in the bottlecap, heaped it to bare lukewarmness, and fed it to her hungry arm on the second stab, now lay on her side mumbling so sadly in a soft hoarse voice; she was naked because Tyler had given her money for the dope, and so when she came with him she’d stripped by habit; it was likewise by habit as well as concern that Tyler sat stroking her pimpled buttock as he would have stroked the forehead of a good dog or a sick child, as he would have had somebody stroke him if he could have found anybody like Irene, whom he could have been a good dog to.

… ’Cause I slept there all night, he bought me a burrito and then he told me: That’s four dollars right there. That’s how he treated me, the whore said. Are you listening to me?

Yeah, I’m listening, sweetheart, said Tyler.

Sighing, Dan Smooth got up and began to piss gently into the sink. When he had finished, he stood there for a moment buttoning his fly. Then he lightly tapped his fingernail against the faucet.

The whore’s eyes jerked open in terror. — Is that a knife? she said.

It’s okay, Tyler said.

What is it? Is it a gun? Is he loading a gun?

No, honey. He’s just making music in the sink.

Oh, said the whore, subsiding. He heard her weary breathing. He liked her and was sorry for her. She was twenty years old and looked fifty. She was ruined.

I have so much respect for you and the both of you that I trespass with, she said with an effort.

I respect you, too, Sunflower, he said.

Hey, can you pop this zit on my butt?

This one? It’s pretty flat.

I want the white stuff to come out, the whore fretted. Can you pop it for me, please?

Okay, said Tyler, setting thumb and forefinger pliers-like about the red spot and digging into the flabby flesh. Nothing came out.

Is that better? he said.

Yeah, that’s a lot better, she sighed. Feels like lots of white stuff came out. You wanna know me? You wanna listen to me? Are you listening to me?

Here I am, Sunflower. Here I am listening.

My father fucked my sister first time when she was five. He fucked her doggy-style, and he put his hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream. Her pussy was all bloody and her asshole was all bloody. There was blood coming down to her knees. Then he fucked me when I was five, and then he fucked my other sister when she was five. But my other sister went and told on him. So me and my sister told my father not to do that no more…

And he listened to you?

Yeah, the whore said. Tears boiled out of her eyes.

He stopped fucking your sister? said Tyler gently.

Yeah. He, uh, well, he… he…

He fucked you and your older sister instead?

Just me, she sobbed. My sister couldn’t take it. Said it hurt too much. But I–I heard the youngest crying, and when I saw the blood, I knew…

It’s okay now, sweetheart. It’s okay.

I wanna be a shield, she said. I was a shield for my sister, and now I protect all the men who come to me. They give me their pain. It comes out their cockheads. It just hits me. It just hurts me. It stays with me. That’s all I wanna do. I wanna be a shield for all the men in this world, and all the women, and all the kids. They can come and shit on my face if they want to; they can even shit on my goddamned face. You wanna shit on my face?

No thanks, said Tyler, squeezing her hand. That wouldn’t make me feel happy.

But did Maj spit in your mouth?

Yes, she did.

I knew it. I could see it.

She lay still for a while. Dan Smooth opened the tap but no water came out.

Hey, how much did you gimme? she said.

Twenty.

And what about your friend? Why’s he here listening? He was supposed to gimme thirty, and he didn’t give me squat.

He’ll give you ten.

I love you, the whore wept. I love you. I’m so alone and I have so many contacts.

I love you, too, said Tyler, because he would have been her shield, too, if he could.

No! she screamed. Don’t say that! I’m here and you’re not here—

She fell asleep, and began snoring loudly. Mouth open, face flushed, she opened and then re-closed her eyes, sinking into the earth of dreams, her knees studded with immense white circular scars, her black-grimed toes faintly twitching, and in her sleep she continued to scratch at those angry speckles on her buttocks.

Four knocks, and they let the Queen in. The Queen was alone, but three tall black men stood waiting in the hall outside. She was wearing a man’s hooded sweatshirt which shadowed and overhung her dark old face into anonymity. Dan Smooth bolted the door. She put her left arm on her hip, threw her head back and extended her right wrist to be kissed. Tyler got down on his knees to do the honors. — You brown-noser! laughed the Queen, pleased. You heard what our friend says about noses? Hah! Now what about you, Danny boy?

Dan Smooth bent over the Queen’s hand.

The Queen shook her hood off and stood there for a moment, smiling almost grimly. On the bed continued the long, slow, gasping breaths of sleep.

You gentlemen owe me twenty in visitor fees, she said.

This dump charged you?

They always charge me. They don’t know.

One Queen, three bodyguards, cackled Smooth, pulling a twenty-dollar bill from his sleeve.