Ironweed (1984 Pulitzer Prize) - William Kennedy [79]
“Where there ain’t no snow,” Rudy sang. “Where the handouts grow on bushes and you sleep out every night.”
“You wanna go for a ride?” Old Shoes asked Rudy.
“Oh the buzzin’ of the bees in the cigarette trees, by the soda water fountains,” Rudy sang. Then he smiled at Old Shoes, took a swallow of wine, and fell back on his cot.
“Man wants to go for a ride and can’t get no takers,” Francis said. “Might as well call it a day, Shoes, stretch out and rest them bones.”
“Naaah, I guess I’ll be movin’ on.”
“One evenin’ as the sun went down, and the jungle fires were burnin’,” Rudy sang, “Down the track came a hobo hikin’, and said, Boys, I am not turnin’.”
“Shut up that singin’,” Little Red said. “I’m tryna sleep.”
“I’m gonna mess up his face,” Francis said and stood up.
“No fights,” Moose said. “She’ll kick us the hell out or call the cops on us.”
“That’ll be the day I get kicked out of a joint like this,” Francis said. “This is pigswill. I lived in better pigswill than this goddamn pigswill.”
“Where I come from—” Old Shoes began.
“I don’t give a goddamn where you come from.” Francis said.
“Goddamn you, I come from Texas.”
“Name a city, then.”
“Galveston.”
“Behave yourself,” Francis said, “or I’ll knock you down. I’m a tough son of a bitch. Tougher than that bum Finny. Licked twelve men at once.”
“You’re drunk,” Old Shoes said.
“Yeah,” said Francis. “My mind’s goin’.”
“It went there. Rattlesnake got you.”
“Rattlesnake, my ass. Rattlesnake is nothin’.”
“Cottonmouth?”
“Oh, cottonmouth rattler. Yeah. That’s somethin’. Jesus, this is a nice subject. Who wants to talk about snakes? Talk about bums is more like it. A bum is a bum. Helen’s got me on the bum. Son of a bitch, she won’t go home, won’t straighten up.”
“Helen did the hula down in Hon-oh-loo-loo,” Rudy sang.
“Shut your stupid mouth,” Francis said to Rudy.
“People don’t like me,” Rudy said.
“Singin’ there, wavin’ your arms, talkin’ about Helen.”
“I can’t escape myself.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Francis said.
“I tried it before.”
“I know, but you can’t do it, so you might as well live with it.”
“I like to be condemned,” Rudy said.
“No, don’t be condemned,” Francis told him.
“I like to be condemned.”
“Never be condemned.”
“I like to be condemned because I know I done wrong in my life.”
“You never done wrong,” Francis said.
“All you screwballs down there, shut up,” yelled Little Red, sitting up on his cot. Francis instantly stood up and ran down the aisle. He was running when he lunged and grazed Little Red’s lips with his knuckles.
“I’m gonna mess you up,” Francis said.
Little Red rolled with the blow and fell off the cot. Francis ran around the cot and kicked him in the stomach. Little Red groaned and rolled and Francis kicked him in the side. Little Red rolled under Finny’s cot, away from Francis’s feet. Francis followed him and was ready to drive a black laceless oxford deep into his face, but then he stopped. Rudy, Moose, and Old Shoes were all standing up, watching.
“When I knew Francis he was strong as a bull,” Old Shoes said.
“Knocked a house down by myself,” Francis said, walking back to his cot. “Didn’t need no wreckin’ ball.” He picked up the quart of wine and gestured with it. Moose lay back down on his cot and Rudy on his. Old Shoes sat on the cot next to Francis. Little Red licked his bleeding lip and lay quietly on the floor under the cot where Finny was supine and snoring. The faces of all the women Francis had ever known changed with kaleidoscopic swiftness from one to the other to the other on the three female figures in the far corner. The trio sat on straight-backed chairs, witnesses all to the whole fabric of Francis’s life. His mother was crocheting a Home Sweet Home sampler while Katrina measured off a bolt of new