Donald Barthelme - Paradise

“You mean like real life.”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Consisting of what?”

“I don’t know I’d have to look in some books.”

“He’s doing the best he can.”

“That’s your opinion.”

“I think he works quite hard at it, spends hours and hours.”

“I just think we’ve gotten ourselves into a fundamentally false position here, I don’t blame the poor bastard it’s just more than the male mechanism is equipped to do.”

“I saw this guy in a movie once I couldn’t believe it.”

“They have these special guys they use for those movies they’re not what you usually run into. They’re specialists.”

“We don’t want to stress him beyond his capacity or have him go mad or something.”

“He shows no signs of going mad.”

“He’s raveling his clothes. Plucking at threads.”

“I just think that means he doesn’t have very good clothes. His clothes have a lot of loose ends and it’s natural, I think, when you see a loose end to pluck at it.”

“I use Lubriderm on him sometimes, that helps.”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been buying a lot of Lubriderm.”

“I share it what are you getting so het up about?”

“I haven’t heard that expression since I was a child. Het up.”

“Well we’re mature women we should be able to cope with this.”

“Has he made a will?”

“That’s an evil thought, has he anything to will?”

“Beats me I wouldn’t take it if he did.”

“Sure you would.”

“He could be more tan his red color is from drinking I’ll bet a nickel.”

“Not a perfect deal he’s an animate wreck.”

“Well I’ll tell you I’ve never had that many orgasms with anybody else to give the devil his due.”

“Well if you want simple frottage.”

“He does appreciate what he’s given.”

“As well he should he’s in hog heaven, objectively speaking.”

“Where are we?”

“We’re in some sort of waiting room. Waiting.”

“How old is he actually?”

“He says he’s fifty-three.”

Once when he had come home with Carol early from a concert a police car was parked outside the house, so they hurried. Inside on the couch with the babysitter there was a half-naked policeman. He had retained his uniform trousers. His gunbelt was on the coffee table and the babysitter’s blouse on the coffee table, a bottle of Dewar’s there as well, “This is Rob,” the babysitter said, and they said, “Hi, Rob.” What breasts, Simon thought. He went into the kitchen and mixed himself a Gelusil and Carol went searching for a faraway closet to hang her black-beaded jacket in.

Rob removed himself into the felon-thick night, Carol gave the babysitter twelve dollars, and Simon looked in on the sleeping Sarah. She had kicked the covers off and he replaced them. “Do you think he was on duty?” Carol asked, redoing the covers.

“Yes,” Simon said. “Did you say anything to her?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary. She was blushing all over. Never seen a stomach blush like that.”

“Did he leave the bottle?”

“No, took it.”

“I think I’ll call the chief. Fill him in on this matter.”

“Oh, come on.”

“What is she, fifteen?”

“Fully fifteen.”

“A ripe fifteen.”

“I saw.” She led the way to the kitchen. “I guess that’s Sarah eleven years from now.”

“Oh misery me.”

“You want to jump the babysitter.”

“Where does this word ‘jump’ come from?”

“I know you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever said that to anybody. ‘I know you.’ “

“You’re too wrapped up in your own stuff even to try. To know someone.”

“The phrase is a bit total. As in, ‘I totaled the Buick.’ “

“You worry about the way I say things but you don’t worry about what I mean.”

“That’s not so. Anyhow, I don’t want to screw the babysitter.”

“You would if you could.”

“Maybe in a state of nature. Philadelphia is not a state of nature.”

“You’re dumb. You’re just dumb, Simon.”

“I didn’t hire the babysitter.”

“She was highly recommended.”

“Had this guy today tell me he was the fourth generation of his family to lose money in the cattle business. A client. What he was really saying was that he was cattle aristocracy and he made enough from his oil leases so that he could run two thousand head of cattle as a hobby. That’s known as self-deprecating humor.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“It needs changing.”

In bed, he was almost asleep. She came in and threw four quarts of icewater at him.

Veronica is bouncing on her trampoline. Dore is reading Flowers for Algernon. Simon is in bed with Anne.

“You’re about as tender as a sea lion,” she says. “Have you ever done this before?”

“I remember having done it before.”

“How does it make you feel with us in here and them out there?”

“Nervous.”

“We’re very tolerant.”

“I see that. What’s that wham-wham-wham noise?”

“Veronica.”

“Is she making obscene comment?”

“She’s just mindless when she gets on that trampoline. She can go for hours. She thinks she’s got a problem with her rear. I don’t think there’s a problem but she thinks there’s a problem.”

“Makes me nervous.”

“Everything makes you nervous.”

“True.”

“Is this a male fantasy for you? This situation?”

“It’s not a fantasy, is it.”

“It has the structure of a male fantasy.”

“The dumbest possible way to look at it.”

“Well screw you.”

“Our purpose here, I thought.”

She turns him around and rubs his ass with her cunt in long swooping motions.

“Where did you go to school?”

“Here and there.”

“What did you learn?”

“Lots of important stuff. Almost everybody I’ve met since was present in my first-grade class. Maybe thirty-two kids in that class. Every type represented. When I run into somebody who was not present in my first-grade class I think I’ve sighted a rare bird.”

“Where did you go to college? Was it Harvard?”

“No it wasn’t Harvard.”

“Lots of people didn’t go to Harvard.”

“There’s just not enough Harvard.”

“Maybe they could start a branch. In Florida or somewhere.”

“They probably don’t feel the urgency.”

“What’s redeye gravy?”

“Ham drippings with a splash of coffee.”

“Can we make some?”

“Go ahead.”

“Blackeyed peas?”

“I love blackeyed peas.”

“Collard greens.”

“Fine.”

“We’ll need some corn likker.”

“Try the likker store.”

“Be good if we had some hounds lazing about.”

“I draw the line at hounds.”

“Simon, I’m trying to do this thing right.”

“I know you are.”

She looks beautiful, her long dark hair done up in a pony tail. Her ARM THE UNEMPLOYED t-shirt.

“What are you going to do after we leave?” she asks.

“Go back to work, I guess.”

“That what you want to do?”

“Work is God’s best invention. Keeps you all seized up and interested.”

“I wish I could do something.”

“You could always go to school.”

“I don’t like standing in lines.”

“I know what you mean. The Army used up most of my standing-in-line capacity.”

“But suppose you’re at a reception and you’re going to meet the President and there’s a long line of very well-dressed people —”

“I’m not in a hurry to meet the President. If he wants to come over and have a drink and a little guacamole dip, that’s fine. My door is always open.”