Stanley Elkin - George Mills

“ ‘If you’re so smart,’ I taunted, ‘if you’re so smart why can’t you read? Knock knock. Hey, knock knock, Harve.’ ”

Messenger’s hands were shaking. “Do you get this? Do you see what I mean?” he asked George. “Big deal I don’t take him hunting, big deal I never taught him to fish.

“His suits,” Messenger said suddenly, leaning toward Mills, fervent. “The power of my father dressed! His suits. Their ample lapels, their double-breasted plenitude. The fabrics like a gabardine energy, their sharkskin suppleness, the silk like a spit-and-polish swank. His trousers riding his hips like holsters and giving off not an illusion of bagginess but some natty, rakish quality of excess, bolts, cloth to burn. Full at the calves, full at the shins, and spilling over his shiny shoetops, fabric rolling over him like water. He stood in his clothing like a man swaggering in the sea. His suits, my father’s suits, the power of my father dressed. The fierce force of that middle-aged man!

“In shorts, George. In pajamas the same. His thighs spread in swim trunks, on beach chairs, in hammocks, his long old balls hanging out. An old testicle prophet my pop!”

“I don’t—”

“Did he teach me engines? Did he teach me to drive? You pass on what you can. He sold costume jewelry. He taught me a gross is a dozen dozen. A hundred forty-four rhinestone necklaces, a hundred forty-four pairs of earrings. Term insurance a better deal than straight life. That you pay cash you lose the interest on your money. His traveling salesman’s weights and measures.”

“I don’t—”

“Wait, wait. I gave Harve five dollars to play the video games. He was back in an hour with a kid half his age.

“ ‘This is my friend, Dad. This is my dad.’

“ ‘Hi.’ The kid giggled. ‘Let’s splash my sister, let’s go run around.’

“ ‘We found the secret tunnel,’ Harve said, ‘where they keep the machinery. Where they keep all the chlorine, where they keep the equipment that works the whole pool.’

“ ‘Mister, Harve turned off the lights. He shut off the games.’

“ ‘Could you step out for a minute? I want to speak to my son.’

“ ‘The janitor’s after us, that guy who makes change.’

“ ‘Please,’ I said, little boy.’

“ ‘I’ll be in the tunnel,’ the kid said to Harve. ‘Unless I’m captured.’

“ ‘Don’t get captured, Pete. Gas him. Unscrew the caps off the chlorine.’

“ ‘You know how old that kid is?’ I thundered. ‘Christ, Harve, he’s six! There must be half a dozen boys out there your own age. Why choose babies to play with?’

“ ‘He’s eight.’

“ ‘He’s a fucking baby. He’s crazy as you are.’

“ ‘I’m not crazy,’ Harve said. ‘Don’t call me crazy.’

“ ‘I don’t understand you. Why can’t you find someone closer to your age?’

“ ‘They’re boring.’

“ ‘ You’re boring! All you do is run around and make trouble. All you do is run around and act wild.’ He started to leave. ‘Forget it. You’re not going out. Where’s my change from the machines? You’re not stuffing yourself with any more candy.’ He threw down some quarters. Tick those up! Pick them up!’

“He undressed in the bathroom. When he came out he switched channels. A movie with airplanes, another with spies. He flipped back and forth during commercials. He bit off his nails. It wasn’t even eight-thirty.

“ ‘Mom packed your suit, Harve. Want to go for a swim?’

“He wouldn’t speak to me.

“ ‘Want to go for a ride, Harve? See what Nashville is like?’

“Paula says I overreact.

“ ‘Harve, are you hungry? They could send in fried chicken, a burger, some fries. What do you say, Harve? How does that sound? Harve, answer me, damn it, I’m talking to you! Harve? Harve? ’

“I’m not his enemy, Mills. He thinks I’m his enemy. I love watching television with him. I love it when he falls asleep next to me.

“ ‘I’m watching a movie. You took back the quarters. I can’t eat what I want or play with my friend.’

“I snapped off the TV.

“ ‘Sulk now I’ll smack you, I’ll break you in half!’

“ ‘I’m watching my program. I suppose I can’t watch my program?’

“When I sat down on the edge of his bed he moved away. I pulled the chair over from the desk. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m going to tell you some jokes.’

“I told him the one about Johnny Fuckerfaster. I told him the one about the three kinds of turds — mustard, custard and you, you dumb shit. I told him book-and-author jokes— The Panther’s Revenge by Claude Balls, The Spot on the Mattress by Mister Completely. I told him all the jokes I could remember from when I was Harve’s age, the age of the kid Harve had brought to the room. I did maybe twenty minutes. He looked at me as if I was crazy.

“Then I told him the one about the whore and the rooster and I had him, really had him. He screamed, he howled, he doubled over with laughter. There were tears in his eyes, snot ran from his nose.

“ ‘Tell it again.’

“ ‘All right,’ I said, ‘what’s the difference between a rooster and a whore?’

“ ‘I don’t know, Daddy. What?’ He was already laughing.

“ ‘The rooster says cock-a-doodle-doo. The whore says any cock’ll do.’

“ ‘One more time. The last. Please, Dad, I promise.’

“ ‘I’ve already told it twice.’

“ ‘Go ahead. Ask me.’

“ ‘What’s the difference, Harve, between a rooster and a whore?’

“ ‘I know, I know,’ he said. He was waving his hand.

“ ‘Harve?’ I called on him, Mills. I called on the kid.

“ ‘The whore say—’

“ ‘The rooster says, Harve.’

“ ‘The rooster says—’

“Mills, I was praying. I swear to you. Praying. I was holding my breath.

“ ‘—cock-a-doodle-doo. The whore says—’

“My mouth, my lips were moving. The way they move when you’re feeding a baby, the way you might breathe by the guy that they work on that they pull from the sea.

“ ‘ —any cock’ll do!’

“I screamed, I howled, I doubled over with laughter. There were tears in my eyes, snot ran from my nose. The kid thought he was Bob Hope, the Three Stooges. I thought so myself. I praised his delivery. I made over his timing.

“ ‘Again,’ he said, ‘let me try it again.’

“I let him try it again. He was letter perfect.

“ ‘Letter perfect,’ I told him.

(“Because they’ve got to have confidence. Isn’t that what they say? Because they’ve got to have confidence, believe in themselves? Because they must be encouraged, ain’t that the drill?”)

There were tears in Messenger’s eyes now too. And now he was weeping openly. Snot ran from his nose.

“ ‘I want to tell a different one this time.’

“ ‘Go ahead, Harve.’ “

George Mills could barely understand him.

“ ‘Once more?’

“ ‘Not that one again. Tell another.’

“ ‘Please, Dad, I promise.’

“ ‘All right, but this is the last time.’

“ ‘Can I tell it again?’

“ ‘Harve, you promised.’

“ ‘Claude Balls,’ he snickered. ‘Mister Completely,’ he roared. ‘Do I have to go to sleep now?’

“ ‘Of course not,’ I said. But I got into bed. I turned off the bedlamp.

“I could hear him giggling. ‘Will you tell me more jokes, Dad?’ Harve asked in the dark. ‘Please?’

“ ‘Wouldn’t you rather watch television?’

“ ‘I’d rather tell jokes.’

“ ‘All right,’ I told him, and waited till he’d calmed down. ‘Knock knock,’ I said.