Ishmael Reed - The Last Days of Louisiana Red

“O Street, don’t be so melodramatic. All you know is brute force.”

“Those guns your women carry around don’t look like no water pistols.”

“I have to defend myself. I’ve been threatened during my campus appearances.”

“I want you to cut that out.”

“Cut out what, Street?”

“Them campus appearances. We don’t need you to talk for the Moochers any more. I’ll do the talkin. The people like me to do the talkin. I reaches them. They’re always clapping. Lots of clapping. Lots of stomping cheering and whistling. Do you know what the people want? They want lots of blood; monkeys roller-skating; 200 dwarfs emerging from a Fiat, and lots of popcorn — that’s what they want. Scorn you when you alive, but if you die — a hero’s funeral. The people gobble up anything in the limelight and then ask for seconds. That’s the people. Do you think the people like to hear about all those issues you bring up? You load them down with issues — free this, free that, Algeria, Bulgaria, the principality of Diptheria, buttons, slogans and posters. The people hate that shit.”

“Whatever you wish, Street. The whole reason for my visit was to vow to you my cooperation and to advise you of an opportunity.”

“What opportunity?”

“The Solid Gumbo Works.”

“You mean some kind of restaurant Dad opened and was so mysterious about? What such an opportunity is that? I don’t know nothin about no cookin.”

“They’re breaking all records in profits. They have to turn the gullible clients away. They even have a auto service.”

“Dad’s Gumbo is back in business? I thought that when he was killed the thing fell to pieces.”

“No, it didn’t. They got a man from New York. Papa LaBas, he calls himself. He’s some kind of hustler.”

“Max told me about him and my brother Wolf.”

“Wolf has changed, Street. Dad took him off into the Business but he won’t listen to me, his own family. He and that LaBas are as thick as thieves and don’t talk to anybody, and their Workers are real snooty. People in Berkeley don’t even know where they are.”

“Well, Wolf and I never got along. He was always taking them other people’s side when they framed me for those crimes. Framed me. Ever since I was a kid, Minnie, you know they framed me. Set me up. You know they did.”

“They never understood you, Street; Wolf, Sister, Dad. You and I understood each other, didn’t we?”

“We sure did,” he says, frowning. “I’m going to pay my brother a visit. Look into these profits.”

“That’s what I would do, Street, and then maybe you can make them go public.”

“Why should I do that? What about me?”

“But Moochers are all about that, Street. Go public. We break up industry and make them go public. Make them share things with us.”

“Shit. Moochers ain’t got nothing to share. That’s what so chickenshit about Moochers. They want the other fellow to share.”

“But, Street, if you don’t believe in what we stand for, then why did you come back to lead?”

“I’m going to work with this Max. That’s what I’m going to do.”

“But when I tell him you are cynically using the organization to further your own ends—”

“Max is with me. He ain’t up here in Berkeley for no Moochers. He’s up here for another reason. That’s the way it look to me. That man is from New York. New Yorkers don’t believe in anything. They like crows, the shrewdest bird on the telegraph wire. They size up a situation and see what they can get out of it. I met some New Yorkers and I know. It’s people in the sticks like you believe in things. Max ain’t up here for no Mooching. I bet he’s up to something else.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Why … why Max is a respected English teacher who is writing a book. He’s one of the most respected men to walk through the Sather Gate. It’s you who’s deranged even if you’re my own brother. I’m going to tell — I’m …” Street grabs her by the wrist.

“You won’t tell nothin. If I hear you saying something, I’ll break your hand. They ain’t going to believe you anyway. They say you crazy.”

“Crazy!”

“That’s how come they put you out.”

“But Max said it was because they wanted a darker brother to lead.”

“That ain’t what they told me.”

“Street, I didn’t come here to be humiliated by you, I came to offer my cooperation. Now, if you want to get crazy, I will call in one of my girls to deal with you; she knows Karate Kung Fu Thai Boxing Tai Chi Chaun Akido Tae Kwon Do Judo Jiu Jitsu Samurai Sword and Kick Boxing.”

“Well, I don’t know nothin about none of that, but I do know I will put a dick horse-whipping on that bitch so hard she’ll leave your service.” Street tightened his grip on her wrist.

“Street, you’re hurting me. Help, Reichsführer! Help!”

Hearing Minnie’s plea for help, Reichsführer rushes past Street’s 7 and into the room. She is dressed in a Wonder Woman’s outfit, white boots, spangled chest, short shorts. She and Street start circling each other, Minnie against the wall sobbing and trembling. Reichsführer jumps all up in Street’s chest, making some kind of celestial cry. Street moves aside and she lands on the floor. Street laughs. She then gets up and runs into Street and starts tangling with him. Street rips her bra off, and her two curvaceous breasts start to flop about. She picks Street up and slams him to the floor and then jumps on Street so that her crotch is all up in his chin. She tries to get Street to yield, and Street bites hard into her thigh, leaving teethmarks on the flesh. She lets go with a piercing scream.

Minnie rushes out of the room. All this body contact she has witnessed is too much for her.

Street leaps to his feet and picks up the moaning Reichsführer, grabs her by the waist and gives her a bear hug. She grabs some of Street’s hair, still struggling. Her arms go limp slowly. He gently eases her down. She grabs his neck and kisses him warmly, slobbers of passion rolling down their lips. They begin a pumping motion. He puts her in a position so that her knees are on the floor while his chest is to her naked back. He grabs one of them big old juicy titties and starts to rock with her. He bites her left ear hard and holds her tightly, rocking some more, and then she starts to moan. And then a little louder as he keeps rocking, their sweat making them glisten and slide on each other. But they don’t call her Reichsführer for nothing. While his left hand is busy pulling her short shorts down her legs showing that big old beautiful luscious behind, she suddenly bites him on the ear and clings there with the teeth. Street screams. He then slaps her against the cheek and with his hands lifts her up and then gently rests her on him in a fashion that his Dong shoots up all in her hot wet orifice and like a sneaky SAM missile starts probing for them secret dark places. She starts convulsing and trembling like a 3-point Richter-scale earthquake, her passion stemming from a deep fault in her soul. She says something like “aw shit awwwww shit” as Street is driving on home. And then there is nothing left but squishy, slurping, squeeky, smacking, slippery and popping snapping sounds coming from behind the door outside of which Minnie red-faced has gone into a huddle with her Dahomeyan teammates; they leave the building in a huff, the Argivians behind, laughing.

(Ms. Better Weather has prepared for lunch. Her white battle jacket matches her ivory pants and white high heels. She has made her mouth up into a cupid’s bow; lots of rouge. She is about to put on her white beret. She is a faithful Worker and does all this because she knows that LaBas has a “twenties” jones. Suddenly, Street and his seven appear: Hog Maw, Player, Time Bomb, Bigger II, Tude, Shoot & Cut and Skag follow their leader. Ms. Better Weather looks up, startled.)