Confederacy of Dunces, A - John Kennedy Toole [107]
“Are you doing this just to make me angry? You can make me angry without all this. Now let her alone. All she wants is to retire. It’s like torturing a dumb animal.”
“I am a very attractive woman,” Miss Trixie mumbled in her sleep.
“Listen to that!” Mrs. Levy cried happily. “And you want to throw her out in the snow? I’m just getting through to her. She’s like a symbol of everything you haven’t done.”
Suddenly Miss Trixie leaped up, snarling, “Where’s my eyeshade?”
“This is going to be good,” Mr. Levy said. “Wait till she sinks those five-hundred-dollar teeth in you.”
“Who took my eyeshade?” Miss Trixie demanded fiercely. “Where am I? Take your hands off me.”
“Darling,” Mrs. Levy began, but Miss Trixie had fallen asleep on her side, her creamed face smearing the couch.
“Look, Fairy Godmother, how much have you spent on this little game already? I’m not paying to have that couch re-covered.”
“That’s right. Spend all your money on the horses. Let this human flounder.”
“You’d better take those teeth out of her mouth before she bites off her tongue. Then she’ll really be stuck.”
“Speaking of tongue, you should have heard all that she told me about Gloria this morning.” Mrs. Levy made a gesture that indicated acceptance of injustice and tragedy. “Gloria was the soul of kindness, the first person in years who took an interest in Miss Trixie. Then out of the blue you walk in and kick Gloria out of her life. I think it’s given her a very bad trauma. The girls would love to know about Gloria. They’d ask you some questions, believe me.”
“I bet they would. You know, I think you’re really going out of your mind. There is no Gloria. If you keep on talking to your little protégé there, she’s going to take you with her right into the twilight zone. When Susan and Sandra come home for Easter, they’ll find you bouncing on that board with a paper bag full of rags in your arms.”
“Oh, oh. I see. Mere guilt about this Gloria incident. Fighting, resentment. It’s all going to end very badly, Gus. Please skip one of your tournaments and go see Lenny’s doctor. The man works miracles, believe me.”
“Then ask him to take Levy Pants off our hands. I talked to three realtors this week. Every one of them said it was the most unsalable property they’d ever seen.”
“Gus, did I hear correctly? Did I hear you say something about selling your heritage?” Mrs. Levy screamed.
“Quiet!” Miss Trixie snarled. “I’ll get you people. Wait and see. You’ll get it. I’ll get even.”
“Oh, shut up,” Mrs. Levy shouted at her and pressed her back to the couch, where she promptly dozed off.
“Well, one guy,” Mr. Levy continued calmly, “this very aggressive-looking agent, gave me some hope. Like all the others, he said, ‘Nobody wants a clothing factory today. The market’s dead. Your place is outmoded. Thousands for repairs and modernization. It’s got a railroad switch line, but light goods like clothes are going by truck today, and the place is badly located for trucks. Across town from the highways. Southern garment business folding. Even the land’s not worth much. The whole area is becoming a slum.’ And on and on. But this one agent said maybe he could interest some supermarket chain in buying the factory for a store. Well, that sounded good. Then the hitch came in. There’s no parking area around Levy Pants, the neighborhood’s living median or something is too low to support a big market, and on and on again. He said the only hope was renting it out as a warehouse, but again warehouse revenues are not high and the place is badly located for a warehouse. Something about highways again. So don’t worry. Levy Pants is still ours, like a chamberpot we inherited.”
“A chamberpot? Your father’s sweat and blood is a chamberpot? I see your motive. Destroy the last monument to your father’s accomplishments.”
“Levy Pants is a monument?”
“Why I ever wanted to work there I’ll never know,” Miss Trixie said angrily from among the pillows where Mrs. Levy had her pinioned. “Thank goodness poor Gloria got out of there in time.”
“Pardon me, ladies,” Mr. Levy said,