Donald Barthelme - The Dead Father

Give you a shirtful of sore tit.

Give you a fret in the gizzard.

I tried to tell you but you wouldn’t listen.

Think I’m getting nosebleed.

Ways of dealing with them when they don’t want you.

Friendship is difficult at best.

People are frightened.

They disagree with me regularly but are not disloyal to me.

Said there were various ways of handling it but I thought I could keep the lid on.

Wake up one dark night with a thumb in your eye.

Strung out like that along the hedges.

Colder weather coming and then warmer.

Since you have not as yet responded to my suggestion.

Matter of paring down to a supportable minimum.

Throw a little shit into the game.

Always darkest just before the dawn.

Take it any way you like it.

Stop being petty, stop trying to cut each other’s throat.

If I pop one will you pop one?

I mean when you’re feeling bad you’re glad to be alive.

What is the motivation?

I can’t remember.

At other times unconscious in the street.

How did that make you feel?

Intolerably angry for short periods.

Feeling is what’s important.

You can lose confidence in your own experiences.

Various circumstances requiring my attention.

Something trembling in the balance.

Where can a body get a hit around here?

It’s all been carefully considered.

Have you tried any of the others?

I just see whether they’re friendly or unfriendly.

A week later she applied for a post in Warsaw.

As a wet nurse.

Yes, as a wet nurse. She was accepted.

They like to suck.

They do like to suck.

Worn out your welcome.

Getting very fond of you and your hands.

That’s my business.

He’s not bad-looking.

It’s no mystery.

Why hasn’t anyone had the simple decency?

It’s perfectly obvious.

Probably we should have spoken up before this.

That’s one way of looking at it.

Unable to take him seriously at any level.

Where can a body get a spritz around here?

That’s my business.

If I pull this little white string, will you explode?

That’s my business.

Then he sobs, and faints.

Does it hurt?

I can make it hot for you.

Learning to put the world together.

The white vase holding the marigolds had fallen to the floor.

The bathtub proved impossible to smash although I tried.

God knows you tried.

God knows I tried.

Dark hair across the pillow.

I can do anything when it’s not important.

Very busy making the arrangements.

Will it hurt?

Large piece of white plaster fell off the wall then.

What were we eating?

Cold rolled veal.

Did we have a good time?

Scrumptious.

Will it rain again again?

Something is wrong.

You must have studied English.

The waiter was listening.

Like trying to digest a saddle.

Wake up one dark night with a kiss in your eye.

That was in Barcelona. Rounded up as a work-shy element.

Much cry and little wool.

Ready again to send his Son to die for us.

Like sending a hired substitute to the war.

I rehearsed the argument with him.

Until the scaring bell rang.

What?

Until the scaring bell rang.

What?

Spiritual aridity which was quite hard to reconcile with his surface gaiety.

In a symbiotic hug resembling that which obtains between pigeons and old ladies with bread crumbs.

Did you find the scene disgusting?

I’m not into disgust.

Thought I heard a dog barking.

Reels of 16-mm. film each with a photograph on the box suggesting the particular motif or specialty.

Until the scaring bell rang.

What?

Remembering, leaving, returning, staying.

Two is one too many.

Slept with a man once it was a very pleasant experience.

Where the buffalo roam.

In a bed.

Time to go.

No it’s not.

Hair on it.

No it hasn’t.

Have you tried any of the others?

Haven’t made up my mind.

Dog-Whipping Day. Eighteenth of October.

I tried to tell you but you wouldn’t listen.

What?

Simple, honest, generous feelings.

That’s one way of looking at it.

Self-respect.

Yes I’ve had self-respect.

Yes I’ve had self-respect too it’s a very good thing self-respect.

Yes I’ve had self-respect for a very long time.

Yes I’ve had it for a very long time too.

Yes I can take it or leave it.

Yes once you’ve had it for a very long time it doesn’t make much difference any more.

You questioning my value system?

Not me.

You questioning what I swear by?

Not me I don’t give a rat’s ass.

A little forest or a night of dancing.

You can bank on it.

Perhaps it’s medical.

Sometimes he smells medical.

Nobody ever died of it.

I’ve heard that.

Elegant way of putting chairs here and there.

A lady always does.

Any artist will do. Chewing red candy hearts.

And the myriad flower stalls with their bursting sun-dapple… of the rainbow… good God. I read about it. In Die Welt.

I wouldn’t mind a drink right now, said the Dead Father. Some little something.

I could stand a drink, said Julie.

Remember the last time you had a drink, Thomas said to her.

Oh boy, she said. Yep. Sure do.

Cobwebs in my throat, said Emma.

The men look like they need a drink, said the Dead Father, shading his eyes with one hand and peering up the road.

Well, God damn it, I guess we’d better have a drink, then, said Thomas.

He signaled the men to halt. The cable loose in the road.

Julie broke out the whiskey.

What is it today? asked the Dead Father.

Aquavit with a beer chaser, she said.

Wow, said Emma, tasting her glass. Wow wow wow wow.

Yes, Julie said. It’s giggles in the sphinxeries.

Quite good, said Thomas, the beer helps.

I like this drink, Emma said, this is good stuff, can I have two more?

One more, said Thomas, we have many a league to cover yet this day.

You are being stuffy. I find that quite extraordinary. You of all people.

What does that mean? Thomas asked. Me of all people?

Why are you always telling everybody what to do?

I like telling everybody what to do, Thomas said. It is a great pleasure, being boss. One of the greatest. Wouldn’t you agree? he said to the Dead Father.

It is one of the best pleasures, the Dead Father said. No doubt about it. It is bang-up, but mostly we don’t let people know. Mostly we downplay the pleasure. Mostly we stress the anguish. We keep the pleasure to ourselves, in our hearts. Occasionally we may show a bit of it to someone — lift a corner of the veil, as it were. But we only do that in order to certify the pleasure to ourselves. Full disclosure is almost unheard of. Thomas is being criminally frank, in my opinion.

Emma threw down a guzzle of beer, then a guzzle of aquavit.

Okay Fat Daddy, she said, show me how to dance.

What? said the Dead Father.;

Emma wearing blue velvet pants burnished to silver where she sits.

Do you know the Hucklebuck?

I do not.

Emma begins to demonstrate. Parts of Emma huckle-buckling in various directions.

Amazing, said the Dead Father. I remember.

Julie and Thomas watching.

It is obvious that but for a twist of fate I would be his and not yours, Julie said. Had I lived within his domains at a time when he was administering them with full heaviness of hand —

He was a goat, Thomas said, that’s well known.

Goatish still. Cops a feel whenever he can.

I’ve noticed.