J. Donleavy - Schultz

“Holy shit, there is. Agnes don’t panic, door’s locked.”

“O god what are we going to do.”

“Lie low. I’ll get under the bed just in case.”

“Get your clothes.”

“No problem. Holy shit. What am I saying again. It could be some problem.”

“Shush.”

Schultz on hands and knees, grabbing around on the floor in the dark. Dragging his clothes after him squeezing face up in under the bed. A creak of floor boards in the hall. A long long listening silence. Another creak. And a knock on the door.

“Agnes. Are you alright in there.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure. My mother thought she heard someone screaming.”

“I had a bad dream. I’m alright now.”

“Can I come in.”

“The door’s locked.”

“Why have you locked it.”

“I just locked it. I always lock my door in a big city.”

“I do think you had better let me in. Open the door. Please. Oh the door is open. I thought you said it was locked.”

Schultz squirming further under the bed. Holy jeeze, how the fuck did that happen. Too much on my mind for too long and mistakes are happening all over the fucking place. They teach you day and night in the Coast Guard. Check and then double check everything. Now with the way my life has become, if I don’t fall head first downstairs, I leave doors open, my fly open, and even my prick out. Which would you believe it, is at this moment pushing a hole up into the bedsprings.

A candle glow coming into the room. Followed by Pricilla. In a purple satin nightdress, with transparent crimson lace over the bosoms guaranteed to turn tired husbands on fire.

“Now are you sure you’re alright Agnes.”

Agnes shifting down in the bed. Schultz pulling his armful of clothes in tight around him. Foot entangled around the lamp cord. Holy Jesus christ. There’s a break in my favour. No electricity to electrocute me. One more inch lower and I could never even with my prick bent back double, fit under this fucking thing in the first place. Look at the bitch. The hem of a brand new purple fucking outfit to go to bed in. And she’s wearing my god damn hand sewn custom made slippers. If my heart pounds any louder she’ll hear it. Come on Agnes. Time to be as cool as a cucumber in the September rain. Keep up the performance. Act like you were masturbating and blew your lid in a paroxysm. Don’t give the game away with nervousness. Like I’m beginning to do with hysteria. Jesus this is just like once instead of hiding under it, I had to lie in full view in the bed. With a Mafia gunman four feet away pointing a god damn Smith and Wesson thirty eight calibre revolver right at me between the eyes. When I had two minutes before been forty two miles up his luscious chorus girl mistress fucking the tits off her all afternoon. When the banging on the door came just as I was banging her for the seventh ecstatic but unlucky time. Her jaw dropped and her eyes nearly fell out while she nearly ripped my prick off jumping into a kimono. The guy was hammering the apartment door down while I said should I hide under the bed. She said no. He’ll kill you soon as he finds you there. Just go to sleep and look like you got pneumonia. I’ll tell him you’re my nephew from Albany who’s visiting town and got sick. I got sick in a second like I had malaria, double pneumonia, clap and leprosy. The fever I threw made me so red all over the face I nearly exploded. Like I thought the end of the revolver barrel was going to do any second. With his bodyguard just behind him, he kept standing there. In a black fedora, chesterfield overcoat and black skin tight gloves. Holding the gun on me. Looking. Saying. If this fucking kid’s been up to any monkey business I’ll blow first his head away and then yours. She kept saying can’t you see he’s just an innocent kid Al. Imagine this gangster called Al. He was also called hairy ape because he didn’t have a hair on his body. Never before did I try to look so young, innocent and vulnerable. Only time I ever truly changed character in my life. It was a tour de force. Even to fluttering my eyelids to look effeminate. So help me fucking god I swear that was what must have convinced him. I was a pansy. He locked the bedroom door. As he was leaving he socked her breaking her nose. Shoved his knee in her stomach and made her vomit. Then threw her crashing back through the bedroom door where I was to my own astonishment getting up to protect her. Fortunately he was gone. And holy shit I left this god damn bedroom door open. But Jesus instead of Pricilla, give me the Mafia anytime. She could be giving evidence against me this morning in Court. Christ I already hear her sniffing.

“Agnes. I smell something, like tomcat or something.”

“I don’t smell anything.”

“Well I do.”

“A cat might have got in during the night. In the window.”

“How could a cat climb up three floors up the side of the building.”

“The drain pipe.”

“What’s this.”

“What’s what.”

“This Agnes.”

“That.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think it’s anything is it.”

“It’s a man’s sock. And this is a shoe. I think I am entitled to an explanation. Well.”

“Honestly, really honestly, Pricilla, I just woke up.”

Holy Jesus, my whole life is passing in front of my eyes, come on honey make it sound more convincing. Or else this could be the third situation of major mayhem in this house. Just like the psalm singing girl I invited in off the street. There she was playing in the band, pink skinned wearing glasses early one Sunday morning. In her little dark green straw bonnet with its big bow. Singing that old rugged cross. Coloured ribbons on her tambourine. Watching her through the curtain, every time she opened her mouth I wanted to shove my prick between her beautiful teeth. Then shit ten minutes later when I thought they were gone, the bell rang. And there she was standing in front of me at the door collecting donations. I said step in. Don’t mind my kimono. A big flower on her collar and purple epaulettes. After giving her two ten shilling notes one after the other I listened for five minutes to her shit trying to convert me. Praise my soul the king of heaven. She made her decision to consecrate herself. To god who is wonderful. I have promised to serve him to the end. Under my breath I said for Jesus’ sake honey serve me a piece of ass. She said she’d found peace. Plus plenty tranquility and rich fellowship through the blessing of the Lord Jesus Christ. Jesus I don’t know how I did it. And I don’t think she knew what I was doing. But I said take my mace, honey. In the name of the father, the son and the holy ghost. I had her on her back, drawers down, green dress up, legs open fucking her right there on the carpet downstairs in the front hall. With her tambourine and collecting tin lying next to her. When a bunch of the fucking rest of the choir came all at once looking for her right to my door. Jesus what a battle that was. In and out the hall, up and down on my stoop. In the middle of screwing she said divine and human nature is combined in god, the governor of all things. Blood and fire she said. Crossed swords. Snakes around our cross. Every word she said, now I believe. And only hope her religion will forgive me.

“Where is he.”

“Where’s who.”

“My husband, this is his shoe.”

“How can you be sure, Pricilla.”

“It’s his shoe. That’s how I can be sure.”

“Honestly I don’t know where your husband is Pricilla. It must have just got left here somehow.”

“That’s not all that’s just got left here. His smell is here. The smell of his sperm.”

“That’s the candle you’re smelling.”

“This is a beeswax candle. I know what my husband’s sperm smells like.”