Nathanael West - The Day of the Locust [2]
In the morning its halls reeked of antiseptic. Tod didn’t like this odor. Moreover, the rent was high because it included police protection, a service for which he had no need. He wanted to move, but inertia and the fact that he didn’t know where to go kept him in the Chateau until he met Abe. The meeting was accidental.
He was on the way to his room late one night when he saw what he supposed was a pile of soiled laundry lying in front of the door across the hall from his own. Just as he was passing it, the bundle moved and made a peculiar noise. He struck a match, thinking it might be a dog wrapped in a blanket. When the light flared up, he saw it was a tiny man.
The match went out and he hastily lit another. It was a male dwarf rolled up in a woman’s flannel bathrobe. The round thing at the end was his slightly hydrocephalic head. A slow, choked snore bubbled from it.
The hall was cold and draughty. Tod decided to wake the man and stirred him with his toe. He groaned and opened his eyes.
“You oughtn’t to sleep there.”
“The hell you say,” said the dwarf, closing his eyes again. “You’ll catch cold.”
This friendly observation angered the little man still more.
“I want my clothes!” he bellowed.
The bottom of the door next to which he was lying filled with light. Tod decided to take a chance and knock. A few seconds later a woman opened it part way. “What the hell do you want?” she demanded. “There’s a friend of yours out here who…” Neither of them let him finish.
“So what!” she barked, slamming the door.
“Give me my clothes, you bitch!” roared the dwarf.
She opened the door again and began to hurl things into the ball. A jacket and trousers, a shirt, socks, shoes and underwear, a tie and hat followed each other through the air in rapid succession. With each article went a special curse.
Tod whistled with amazement.
“Some gal!”
“You bet,” said the dwarf. “A lollapalooza—all slut and a yard wide.”
He laughed at his own joke, using a high-pitched cackle more dwarflike than anything that had come from him so far, then struggled to his feet and arranged the voluminous robe so that he could walk without tripping. Tod helped him gather his scattered clothing.
“Say, mister,” he asked, “could I dress in your place?”
Tod let him into his bathroom. While waiting for him to reappear, he couldn’t help imagining what had happened in the woman’s apartment. He began to feel sorry for having interfered. But when the dwarf came out wearing his hat, Tod felt better.
The little man’s hat fixed almost everything. That year Tyrolean hats were being worn a great deal along Hollywood Boulevard and the dwarf’s was a fine specimen. It was the proper magic green color and had a high, conical crown. There should have been a brass buckle on the front, but otherwise it was quite perfect.
The rest of his outfit didn’t go well with the hat. Instead of shoes with long points and a leather apron, he wore a blue, double-breasted suit and a black shift with a yellow tie. Instead of a crooked thorn stick, he carried a rolled copy of the Daily Running Horse.
“That’s what I get for fooling with four-bit broads,” he said by way of greeting.
Tod nodded and tried to concentrate on the green hat. His ready acquiescence seemed to irritate the little man.
“No quiff can give Abe Kusich the fingeroo and get away with it,” he said bitterly. “Not when I can get her leg broke for twenty bucks and I got twenty.”
He took out a thick billfold and shook it at Tod.
“So she thinks she can give me the fingeroo, hah? Well, let me tell…”
Tod broke in hastily.
“You’re right, Mr. Kusich.”
The dwarf came over to where Tod was sitting and for a moment Tod thought he was going to climb into his lap, but he only asked his name and shook hands. The little man had a powerful grip.
“Let me tell you something, Hackett, if you hadn’t come along, I’da broke in the door. That dame thinks she can give me the fingeroo, but she’s got another thinkola coming. But thanks anyway.”
“Forget it”
“I don’t forget nothing. I remember.