Confederacy of Dunces, A - John Kennedy Toole [47]
“Okay,” Darlene said. “But I ain’t making no money I’m so afraid the guy on the next stool is the police. You know what we need in here to make money?”
“What?” Lana asked angrily.
“What we need in here is a animal.”
“A what? Jesus Christ.”
“I ain cleanin up after no animal,” Jones said, bumping his mop noisily against the legs of the barstools.
“Come on over and check under these stools,” Lana called to him.
“Oh! Whoa! Where I miss a spot? Hey!”
“Look in the paper, Lana,” Darlene said. “Almost every other club on the street’s got them an animal.”
Lana turned to the entertainment pages and through Jones’s fog studied the nightclub ads.
“Well, little Darlene’s on the ball. I guess you’d like to become the manager of this club, huh?”
“No, ma’m.”
“Well, remember that,” Lana said and ran a finger along the ads. “Look at this. They got a snake at Jerry’s, got them some doves at the 104, a baby tiger, a chimp…”
“And that’s where the people are going,” Darlene said. “You gotta keep up with things in this business.”
“Thanks a lot. Since it’s your idea, you got any suggestions?”
“I suggest we vote unanimous agains changing over to a zoo.”
“Keep on the floor,” Lana said.
“We could use my cockatoo,” Darlene said. “I been practicing a smash dance with it. The bird’s very smart. You oughta hear that thing talk.”
“In color bars peoples all the time tryina keep birds out.”
“Give the birds a chance,” Darlene pleaded.
“Whoa!” Jones said. “Watch out. Your orphan frien just pullin in. It’s humanitaria time.”
George was slouching through the door in a bulky red sweater, white denims, and beige flamenco boots with slim-pointed toes. On both his hands there were tattoos of daggers drawn with ball-point pen.
“Sorry, George, nothing for the orphans today,” Lana said quickly.
“See that? Well them orphan they better star applyin to the United Fun,” Jones said and blew some smoke on the daggers. “We having trouble with salary as it is. Chariddy begin at home.”
“Huh?” George asked.
“They sure keeping a buncha hoods in the orphanages these days,” Darlene observed. “I wouldn’t give him nothing, Lana. He’s operating some kinda shakedown racket, if you ast me. If this kid’s a orphan, I’m the queen of England.”
“Come here,” Lana said to George and led him out onto the street.
“Whatsa matter?” George asked.
“I can’t talk in front of those two jerks,” Lana said. “Look, this new porter’s not like the old one. This smartass has been asking me about this orphan crap since he first saw you. I don’t trust him. I got cop trouble already.”
“Then get yourself a new jig. There’s plenty around.”
“I couldn’t get a blind Eskimo for the salary I’m paying him. I got him on something of a deal, like discount price. And he thinks if he tries to quit, I can get him arrested for vagrancy. The whole thing’s a deal, George. I mean, in my line of business, you gotta keep your eye peeled for a bargain. Understand?”
“But what about me?”
“This Jones goes out to lunch from twelve to twelve-thirty. So you come around about twelve-forty-five.”
“What am I supposed to do with them packages all afternoon? I can’t do nothing till after three. I don’t want to be carrying that stuff around.”
“Go check it in the bus station. I don’t care. Just be sure they’re safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Lana went back into the bar.
“I sure hope you told that kid off,” Darlene said. “Somebody oughta report him to the Better Business Bureau.”
“Whoa!”
“Come on, Lana. Give me and the bird a chance. We’re boffo.”
“It used to be the old Kiwanis types liked to come in and watch a cute girl shake it a little. Now it’s gotta be with some kinda animal. You know what’s wrong with people today? They’re sick. It’s hard for a person to earn an honest buck.” Lana lit a cigarette and matched Jones cloud for cloud. “Okay. We audition