Nathanael West - The Day of the Locust [49]
“Handle them,” Earle shouted.
Miguel freed his bird and gave the other back to the dwarf. Abe, moaning softly, smoothed its feathers and licked its eyes clean, then took its whole head in his mouth. The red was finished, however. It couldn’t even hold its neck straight. The dwarf blew away the feathers from under its tail and pressed the lips of its vent together hard. When that didn’t seem to help, he inserted his little finger and scratched the bird’s testicles. It fluttered and made a gallant effort to straighten its neck.
“Pit birds.”
Once more the red tried to rise with Juju, pushing hard with its remaining leg, but it only spun crazily. Juju rose, but missed. The red thrust weakly with its broken bill. Juju went into the air again and this time drove a gaff through one of the red’s eyes into its brain. The red fell over stone dead.
The dwarf groaned with anguish, but no one else said anything. Juju pecked at the dead bird’s remaining eye.
“Take off that stinking cannibal!” the dwarf screamed.
Miguel laughed, then caught Juju and removed its gaffs. Earle did the same for the red. He handled the dead cock gently and with respect.
Tod passed the whiskey.
22
They were well on their way to getting drunk when Homer came out to the garage. He gave a little start when he saw the dead chicken sprawled on the carpet. He shook hands with Claude after Tod introduced him, and with Abe Kusich, then made a little set speech about everybody coming in for a drink. They trooped after him. Faye greeted them at the door. She was wearing a pair of green silk lounging pajamas and green mules with large pompons and very high heels. The top three buttons of her jacket were open and a good deal of her chest was exposed but nothing of her breasts; not because they were small, but because they were placed wide apart and their thrust was upward and outward.
She gave Tod her hand and patted the dwarf on the top of the head. They were old friends. In acknowledging Homer’s awkward introduction of Claude, she was very much the lady. It was her favorite role and she assumed it whenever she met a new man, especially if he were someone whose affluence was obvious.
“Charmed to have you,” she trilled.
The dwarf laughed at her.
In a voice stiff with hauteur, she then ordered Homer into the kitchen for soda, ice and glasses.
“A swell layout,” announced the dwarf, putting on the hat he had taken off in the doorway.
He climbed into one of the big Spanish chairs, using his knees and hands to do it, and sat on the edge with his feet dangling. He looked like a ventriloquist’s dummy.
Earle and Miguel had remained behind to wash up. When they came in, Faye welcomed them with stilted condescension.
“How do you do, boys? The refreshments will be along in a jiffy. But perhaps you prefer a liqueur, Miguel?”
“No, mum,” he said, a little startled. “I’ll have what the others have.”
He followed Earle across the room to the couch. Both of them took long, wooden steps, as though they weren’t used to being in a house. They sat down gingerly with their backs straight, their big hats on their knees and their hands under their hats. They had combed their hair before leaving the garage and their small round heads glistened prettily.
Homer took the drinks around on a small tray.
They all made a show of manners, all but the dwarf, that is, who remained as arrogant as ever. He even commented on the quality of the whiskey. As soon as everyone had been served, Homer sat down.
Faye alone remained standing.