J. Donleavy - Schultz

“O.K. so let me wish you once more. Happy ninetieth.”

“So help me god Sigmund. They’ve taken Counsel’s opinion. It’s going to be front page paternity proceedings with blood tests. Save anguish. Marry.”

“Save anguish Al. Are you kidding.”

“Sigmund don’t you realize you could end up in a few months being the father of a human being.”

“Al I’m just easing up one inch from last week’s catastrophes to take a peek out of the deepest fucking abyss of my whole life. Sixty thousand pounds I got to find before Tuesday. I’m at everybody’s mercy. Looking for money at this last minute is impossible. Nobody wants to know. I got a theatre now and I ain’t got no show.”

“What do you mean no show.”

“The show is in a shambles. Equity could close me down. Unofficially I’m in rehearsals. While Magillacurdy’s Agent is asking an astronomical salary against a straight ten per cent of the gross, like his client recently sleeping between gravestones, is a West End Hollywood Broadway star already, instead of a discovery.”

“So he’s got a good Agent whom I happen to know.”

“That ain’t all, Al. Everyone hates everybody. Magillacurdy bodily threw the director off the stage into the third row stall seats and broke his collar bone.”

“So. He has an artistic temperament.”

“I’m being sued.”

“So what’s recently new about that.”

“I’ll tell you what’s recently new. The director is the lowest kind of creep, demanding body guards and threatening to slander the show to the newspapers.”

“Why didn’t you ring me when you got these troubles Sigmund.”

“Al I don’t ring you because you bring me more trouble that’s why I don’t ring you.”

“Tell me. What else is bothering you Sigmund.”

“You don’t think that’s enough, which yet is only a fraction.”

“Take it easy. Just tell me.”

“You want to hear about what they did to me over the sets, the costumes, and the designer who thinks he’s El Greco.”

“O.K. O.K. Don’t get hysterical. Look. I’ll tell you. Sigmund do you want to zing mit der dick dick.”

“What the fuck is that Al.”

“It’s like everything going your way.”

“For that at this moment I’ll zing with any fucking dick dick.”

“Then promise to sit down like a civilized person without jumping up to puke over everything.”

“Hey Al I don’t jump up to puke over everything. It’s something like the horrorsville you sucked me into that makes me puke.”

“O.K. O.K. calm down. If you talk to Pricilla I guarantee you Magillacurdy is signed for a nice medium round salary and maybe a per cent or so of the gross.”

“Al it’s got to be less than a medium round salary and no per cent of the gross.”

“What, you expect to get a genius for nothing.”

“No Al. But I’m paying exorbitant rent for the theatre.”

“O.K. you meet Pricilla and it’s no per cent of the gross.”

“Will you guarantee Al that that two ton tarantula is miles away in her fucking web gorging caviar someone else is paying for.”

“You have my word, you won’t see her. Plus I’ll get you sixty thousand.”

“Al don’t joke.”

“I’m not joking. Since when have I ever joked over something I said I was going to do. Tell me.”

“O.K. Al I believe you.”

“So three thirty today alright. Let’s say the lounge of the Dorchester Hotel.”

“Jesus not there Al. Except for the price that place is costing me I still try to go there for peace of mind.”

“The Ritz then, the palm court, under the gold embellishments. Have a nice tea.”

“Thanks a whole bunch. On second thoughts, make it at the Dorchester. I need the peace of mind. So long Al.”

“Wait a second Sigmund.”

“What.”

“I got news.”

“What news.”

“I’m in love.”

“Holy jesus another pair of balls for the guillotine.”

“Don’t say a thing like that. I’m in love. With the most wonderful, the most serene and beautiful creature I have ever met. You will love her too.”

“Al, that’s great, you fuck her for me but meanwhile I’m missing my sunglasses and my chauffeur’s waiting. Goodbye.”

Greta smiling by the door in her yellow gingham dress, a flower in her hair, Schultz’s sunglasses in her outstretched hand as he puts fingers forth petting her under the chin.

“Honey, you know you’ve been a real great help to me. You really have. But soon like tomorrow or the next day you got to find somewhere else to stay. You’re a nice sweet girl. You’re going to meet some nice guy someday to settle down with. Jesus don’t start crying.”

“You no love me just a little bit.”

“Sure. But if you got ears can’t you see what my life is like. Somebody maybe could come again trying to throw you out on the street.”

“Don’t throw me out. No don’t.”

“Jesus kid, stop the tears will you. Here take this. Now you go buy yourself something and see a movie.”

“I love you.”

“Calm down now. That’s a good kid. You shouldn’t get a fixation on just one guy.”

“What is fixation.”

“O Jesus, fixation is, hey I’ll tell you later. I’m gone now.”

Schultz catching a flash reflection of himself in the window of the limousine door. The hired chauffeur pulling it open with a salute and bow.

“Good morning sir, looking very spruce.”

“Well when you don’t feel that way that’s the way to look.”

“I agree sir.”

The door closing a gentle click on Schultz. Sitting back in the sweet soft perfumed unpuked upon upholstery. And holy shit. The Ambassador on his stoop. Dressed for a wedding. And waving grinning out of his black mind at me. Hi ya. Jesus Your Excellency where do you get such constant happiness all over your face from.

By the palace wall and the park, the limousine purring down Constitution Hill. Beneath the mid morning shade of trees. Into the Mall full of sunshine. The town humming. Like everyone who is anyone is heading for his Lordship’s nuptials. And holy shit in the sudden gorgeous few moments rolling along like this, I nearly completely forgot. My invitation to go to the palace. Torn up by that bitch.

Schultz’s car slowing down to a standstill in a long queue. Sound of a loud speaker in the distance.

“Holy christ, driver what’s the hold up.”

“There has to be a clearway left for the Sovereign sir. All traffic is stopped.”

“I’m late, honk your horn.”

“Sir I’m sorry I just can’t do that.”

“Hey isn’t this a democracy.”

“Sir with all due respect, if you’d just look at the people in these cars I think aristocracy would be a better word.”

“Christ, it’s the one guy in the world I really like. I’m not going to miss him getting married. I’m walking. Pick me up on the church stoop later.”

Police on the pavement holding back the crowd watching the resplendent wedding guests in their carloads popping out into a blaze of flash bulbs. Film and television crews adjusting lights and cameras. Oohs and aahs at the arrival of the bride. Schultz shoving his way through onlookers caught suddenly in the surge forward of reporters.

“Jesus christ you guys watch who you’re pushing.”

Ladies clutching hats in the breeze. Police locking arms and holding their backs against the crowd. Schultz buffeted pitching forward to his hands and knees. Grey topper flying off his head and kicked by several feet till a photographer’s foot squashed it. An appreciative chuckle as Schultz shouted.

“Hey Jesus don’t ruin the rented clothes.”

Helped up by hands of wedding guests, Schultz led to safety inside the church door. In the calmer cool Schultz punching his desecrated top hat back into lopsided shape. As a familiar handsome smiling face stepped out of the shadows.