Nathanael West - The Day of the Locust [45]
“Miguel?”
“Yes. He’s almost as bad as his hen.’
“You’ve been to their camp?”
“Camp?”
“In the mountains?”
“No. They’re living in the garage. Faye asked me if I minded if a friend of hers lived in the garage for a while because he was broke. But I didn’t know about the chickens or the Mexican…Lots of people are out of work nowadays.”
“Why don’t you throw them out?”
“They’re broke and they have no place to go. It isn’t very comfortable living in a garage.”
“But if they don’t behave?”
“It’s just that hen. I don’t mind the roosters, they’re pretty, but that dirty hen. She shakes her dirty feathers each time and clucks so nasty.”
“You don’t have to look at it.”
“They do it every afternoon at the same time when I’m usually sitting in the chair in the sun after I get back from shopping with Faye and just before dinner The Mexican knows I don’t like to see it so he tries to make me look just for spite. I go into the house, but he taps on the windows and calls me to come out and watch. I don’t call that fun. Some people have funny ideas of what’s fun.”
“What’s Faye say?”
“She doesn’t mind the hen. She says it’s only natural.”
Then, in case Tod should mistake this for criticism, he told him what a fine, wholesome child she was. Tod agreed, but brought him back to the subject.
“If I were you,” he said, “I’d report the chickens to the police. You have to have a permit to keep chickens in the city. I’d do something and damned quick.”
Homer avoided a direct answer.
“I wouldn’t touch that thing for all the money in the world. She’s all over scabs and almost naked. She looks like a buzzard. She eats meat. I saw her one time eating some meat that the Mexican got out of the garbage can. He feeds the roosters grain but the hen eats garbage and he keeps her in a dirty box.”
“If I were you, rd throw those bastards out and their birds with them.”
“No, they’re nice enough young fellows, just down on their luck, like a lot of people these days, you know. It’s just that hen…”
He shook his head wearily, as though he could smell and taste her.
Faye was coming back. Homer saw that Tod was going to speak to her about Earle and the Mexican and signaled desperately for him not to do it. She, however, caught him at it and was curious.
“What have you guys been chinning about?”
“You, darling,” Tod said. “Homer has a t.l. for you.”
“Tell me, Homer.”
“No, first you tell me one.”
“Well, the man I just danced with asked me if you were a movie big shot.”
Tod saw that Homer was unable to think of a return compliment so he spoke for him.
“I said you were the most beautiful girl in the place.”
“Yes,” Homer agreed. “That’s what Tod said.”
“I don’t believe it. Tod hates me. And anyway, I caught you telling him to keep quiet. You were shushing him.” She laughed.
“I bet I know what you were talking about.” She mimicked Homer’s excited disgust. “‘That dirty black hen, she’s all over scabs and almost naked.’”
Homer laughed apologetically, but Tod was angry. “What’s the idea of keeping those guys in the garage?” he demanded.
“What the hell is it your business?” she replied, but not with real anger. She was amused.
“Homer enjoys their company. Don’t you, sloppyboppy?”
“I told Tod they were nice fellows just down on their luck like a lot of people these days. There’s an awful lot of unemployment going around.”
“That’s right,” she said. “If they go, I go.”
Tod had guessed as much. He realized there was no use in saying anything. Homer was again signaling for him to keep quiet.
For some reason or other, Faye suddenly became ashamed of herself. She apologized to Tod by offering to dance with him again, flirting as she suggested it. Tod refused.
She broke the silence that followed by a eulogy of Miguel’s game chickens, which was really meant to be an excuse for herself. She described what marvelous fighters the birds were, how much Miguel loved them and what good care he took of them.
Homer agreed enthusiastically. Tod remained silent. She asked him if he had ever seen a cock fight and invited him to the garage for the next night. A man