Cruddy - Lynda Barry [94]
The father came out behind her, buttoning his shirt and smoothing his hair and hitching his pants as he walked to the picnic table. And in the bug light his skin looked oily. And from the cavern opening, from the Lair of the Sequined Genius came a rolling cloud and a thick, searing smell, like burning wires and rotting eggs. Pammy was backing away with her arms out and her eyes wriggling in terror.
The father poured two tall ones. He said, “You ain’t getting cold feet about our wedding, honey, are you? Did you know Doris here is a certified beautician?”
Doris took one of the highballs. She said, “You could use a set and a comb-out, hon.”
Dreamland is Air Force. Top Secret. Located somewhere on the base that stretches on and on for miles, filled with such craters from the violent tests of all the interesting bombs that came after the A and the H. All the silent letters of the alphabet that exploded after those.
There are many people who know about Dreamland but there are not many people who know this: Dreamland is never in the same place twice. Dreamland roves about beneath the landscape. Sometimes it’s under a dry lake bed, sometimes it is in the mountains, sometimes it roves off the base completely through a system of chutes and tunnels and natural underground passages. Dreamland is nowhere and everywhere at once. The billowing fumes that rose from the Lair of the Sequined Genius had me sick and kneeling in my hidey-hole. Pammy was also brought down. The father coughed a little bit and wiped his eyes but kept on drinking. Doris wasn’t affected at all. She said she hardly notices it anymore but it did used to bother her. One time it turned her eyeballs blood-red and egg-yellow for a couple of hours but now she can’t even smell it.
The father glugged his highball whole and poured again. “Radioactive shit. Fallout particles, that what it is? Shit is supposed to be bad for you.”
“Oh yes,” said Auntie Doris. “Real bad.”
“Earlis,” Pammy was crying. “Help me, Daddy-baby. I can’t breathe, that son of a bitching dog bit me to where I am bleeding to death and your boy has been telling lies on you.”
“You’re fine,” said the father, sitting comfortable. “You’re doing great. What lies has Clyde been telling you?”
His voice was casual but I heard a tautness.
And Pammy told him what I said. Pammy spoke his real name right to his face and he said she ought to know better than to listen to a turd like me. He said it wasn’t exactly all lies because partly his name was Ray.
“Earlis-Ray is my name, honey, but true family just call me Ray. Clyde’s just trying to welcome you into the family is all.” The sound in the father’s voice was chilling me. There is such a thing as Very Sensitive Vibration Feelers and the father had them when it came to me. The Navy sentence for treason is death.
“Come on, Pammy,” said Auntie Doris. “Let’s fix you up. What time is it? Gy-Rah ain’t had nothing to eat tonight.” Her big jaw lowered and her voice boomed, “GY-RAH!”
“I’m bleeding,” said Pammy.
Doris said, “Come on inside. I’ll clean you up. The dog did that? When I find her I’ll break her neck for you, OK, hon?”
And the office door closed behind Pammy and Auntie Doris. And then it was silent. Just the father at the concrete table sipping a highball and saying my name. Speaking to me in a normal voice. “Clyde. I know you can hear me. I don’t give a shit about that what you told Pammy. Come on out, Clyde, and have a drink with me.”
Chapter 49
O MY house, to my house,” said Vicky. “Turn here.”
“New Orleans,” said the Great Wesley. “South, good Hillbilly Woman.”
“Alberta,” said the Turtle. “Neil Young shall make our beds ready.” And while he blabbed on a little about how Neil Young was excited about our visit, Vicky blabbed out things she wanted me to get from her room because I had to get these things because she was not going inside there was no way she was going inside,