Donald Barthelme - The Dead Father

I wouldn’t put it past him.

The child’s interests were not protected.

Fill your face with bubblegum and suck your pacifier.

Saw a unicyclist in a brown hat.

I’m not into disgust.

Thought I heard a dog barking.

Handed him the yellow towel which he stuffed into his trousers.

Nobody ever died of it.

Worked them down over her hips.

Sometimes with music and sometimes with conversation.

Removing with a shout of triumph a whole live chicken.

He’s not bad-looking.

I’ve noticed that.

We couldn’t have been happier.

Mountain goats posing with their front legs together on the filing cabinets.

Feeling is what’s important.

What was the room like?

Gray and the ceiling white.

What was the room like?

A shrug and a burst into tears.

Long gowns to the floor one yellow-white and one cooked-shrimp colored.

Something trembling in the balance.

Content to suck on a black tiptoe.

I applied for more time spreading the documents out before them.

I thanked the large black woman and withdrew.

Would have pissed elsewhere out of my sight if the conventions were then as they are now.

It’s her own gut she’s after.

He said I respected you when you were younger.

That’s normal for cellists.

Got her a Rostropovich peg for her birthday.

She exhibited gratitude, blinked three times.

Mother.

Printed circuits reprinting themselves.

Did you let him see yours?

I assumed a brusque but friendly tone.

Probably afraid that she would drop it.

Probably afraid.

Got him right between the shoulder blades.

From such combinations in ancient days were sprung monsters.

This is not like me.

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

That’s my business.

Approached it with a charming show of fastidious distaste.

That’s my business.

Years not unmarked by hideous strains.

The letter a failure but I mailed it nevertheless.

That’s your opinion.

Quite. That’s my opinion.

Cracked half haired puckerfaced creature.

Mother.

Asked if I wanted to play. I noticed that all of the pieces were black.

I read about it in Le Monde.

He doesn’t know what he’s in for.

Sender of the sweet rain.

Keeps the corn popping.

The bourgeois press told stories.

The incredibly handsome waiter had been listening.

Carbon paper under the tablecloth all the while.

Knits the power grips.

Eats his kids they say.

Her red lips against the bone in my nose.

I can make it hot for you.

What is your totem?

The credit card.

When you are an old person you live in a small room small but neat and you don’t have any cymbals any more they’ve taken your cymbals away from you.

It’s a dirge not a dance.

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

Always quick to call another woman beautiful.

Definite absolute negative influence.

And never does so if it is not true.

Hoping this will reach you at a favorable moment.

Some use camel saliva.

Teeth in dreams flaking away like mica.

They like to suck.

They do like to suck.

Sitting on some steps watching the tires of parked cars crack.

Shame, which has made marmosets of so many of us.

Mandrills watching from the sidelines with their clear, intelligent eyes.

Very busy making the arrangements.

Appeals to idealism.

Grocers wearing pistol belts.

It’s perfectly obvious.

I was astonished to discover that his golden urine has a purple stripe in it.

It’s no mystery.

A few severed heads on stakes along the trail.

Polished tubes carried by some of the men.

Not sure I understand what the issues are.

String, quartets don’t march very well.

Whip her britches into a white foam.

I didn’t want to join, particularly, but felt it, in the last analysis, important.

Not wrong to be critical.

Half-a-scandal away.

Has a trickle-down effect on the brain.

Blushed like a blue dog.

Yes, after the war. I don’t deny it.

You must have studied English.

That’s one way of looking at it.

Wigwag me when you get a moment.

Never got the hang of it.

He’s an excellent pianist.

We remind him at every opportunity.

Throwing our caps in the air.

The beatings were long ago and not irregular.

A truck or horses could have been used.

That’s your opinion.

The son-of-a-bitch.

That’s your opinion.

Elegant way of putting chairs here and there.

I don’t think it’s so damned elegant.

Walks along placidly thinking his own thoughts.

Remembering, leaving, returning, staying.

Look at the parts separately.

Get an exploded view as they call it.

Tea on the lawn then.

The lawn!

Villains from the right, heroes from the left.

When he was again in their company he could not help remembering what he had seen.

A boiled brain and a burnt one.

Millions of birds have accepted.

Darkening the skies above the walkers.

The main thing is to get moving.

Outside bright sunlight on the snow.

I can eat a good meal and look at a street.

You’re safe with me.

Sometimes a picture or two in a museum.

Sometimes.

I don’t mind hotel rooms.

Soldiers, horses, peasants, naked girls.

Playing a guitar.

He plays very well.

Hundreds of people squatting in a great half circle.

Throwing our caps in the air.

The son-of-a-bitch.

Control is the motif.

He made short work of them.

Is that a threat?

A vast barracks in very poor condition.

Carrying off caskets of municipal bonds.

Hers was a pretty fakey number.

Because the world’s peoples are choking.

Dead infants fishermen found in their nets.

Blood Clot Boy, Water Jar Boy, all the heroes of the past.

Stumble at noon as in the twilight.

What they say in town is, he wore elevator shoes.

Wrote things on her in colored chalks.

Her eyes seemed to be scanning the company searching with a furtive yet sincere interest.

Sicker than Pascal himself in the opinion of some.

Drinking vodka from paper cups.

She had a flight of the imagination then.

Even I liked the faint memory.

Courting disaster.

What stories is she telling herself?

Said he had a board in his chest.

Dr. Margaux corrected what Dr. Elias could not.

Sometimes with music and sometimes with conversation.

The cello leaning against the wall.

Have some.

What is it?

Potato.

Thank you.

Handed him a yellow towel which he stuffed into his trousers.

I applied for more time spreading the documents out before them.

A thing he had done for the love of me.

Will you let him see it?

Hours in this position thinking I would suppose.

Except for rats and insects, woodworms and squirrels.

I noticed a tall young man who was speaking to your husband.

Got him right between the shoulder blades.

Psychologically punishing.

When I try to speak to her about it she turns the conversation, yawns or giggles.

Parts of hero all over.

He made short work of them.

Scratches her ass, good ankles.

Anything else of that nature?

Hanging by the hair.

There was a man walking on the tops of cars.

Some way to save the situation.

True love affairs of a lifelong character.

Anything else of that nature?

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

We chat.

About what?

That’s my business.