The Dark Tower - Stephen King [269]
“We can take any shape we like,” continued the one on the right, “but our orders were to assume that of someone you’d recognize and trust.”
“I’d not trust sai King much further than I could throw his heaviest grandfather,” Roland remarked. “As troublesome as a trousers-eating goat, that one.”
“We did the best we could,” said the righthand Stephen King. “We could have taken the shape of Eddie Dean, but felt that might be too painful to the lady.”
“The ‘lady’ looks as if she’d be happy to fuck a rope, could she make it stand up between her thighs,” remarked the left-hand Stephen King, and leered.
“Uncalled-for,” said the one behind, he with his hands crossed in front of him. He spoke in the mild tones of a contest referee. Susannah almost expected him to sentence Badmouth King to five minutes in the penalty box. She wouldn’t have minded, either, for hearing Badmouth King crack wise hurt her heart; it reminded her of Eddie.
Roland ignored all the byplay.
“Could the three of you take three different shapes?” he inquired of Goodmouth King. Susannah heard the gunslinger swallow quite audibly before asking this question, and knew she wasn’t the only one struggling to keep from drooling over the smells from the food-basket. “Could one of you have been sai King, one sai Kennedy, and one sai Nixon, for instance?”
“A good question,” said Goodmouth King on the right.
“A stupid question,” said Badmouth King on the left. “Nothing at all to the point. Off we go into the wild blue yonder. Oh well, was there ever an action hero who was an intellectual?”
“Prince Hamlet of Denmark,” said Referee King quietly from behind them. “But since he’s the only one who comes immediately to mind, he may be no more than the exception that proves the rule.”
Goodmouth and Badmouth both turned to look at him. When it was clear that he was done, they turned back to Roland and Susannah.
“Since we’re actually one being,” said Goodmouth, “and of fairly limited capabilities at that, the answer is no. We could all be Kennedy, or we could all be Nixon, but—”
“ ‘Jam yesterday, jam tomorrow, but never jam today,’ ” said Susannah. She had no idea why this had popped into her head (even less why she should have said it out loud), but Referee King said “Exactly!” and gave her a go-to-the-head-of-the-class nod.
“Move on, for your father’s sake,” said Badmouth King on the left. “I can barely look at these traitors to the Lord of the Red wi’out puking.”
“Very well,” said his partner. “Although calling them traitors seems rather unfair, at least if one adds ka to the equation. Since the names we give ourself would be unpronounceable to you—”
“Like Superman’s rival, Mr. Mxyzptlk,” said Badmouth.
“—you may as well use those Los’ used. Him being the one you call the Crimson King. I’m ego, roughly speaking, and go by the name of Feemalo. This fellow beside me is Fumalo. He’s our id.”
“So the one behind you must be Fimalo,” Susannah said, pronouncing it Fie-ma-lo. “What’s he, your superego?”
“Oh brilliant!” Fumalo exclaimed. “I bet you can even say Freud so it doesn’t rhyme with lewd!” He leaned forward and gave her his knowing leer. “But can you spell it, you shor’-leg New York blackbird?”
“Don’t mind him,” said Feemalo, “he’s always been threatened by women.”
“Are you Stephen King’s ego, id, and superego?” Susannah asked.
“What a good question!” Feemalo said approvingly.
“What a dumb question!” Fumalo said, disapprovingly. “Did your parents have any kids that lived, Blackbird?”
“You don’t want to start in playing the dozens with me,” Susannah said, “I’ll bring out Detta Walker and shut you down.”
Referee King said, “I have nothing to do with sai King other than having appropriated some of his physical characteristics for a short time. And I understand that short time is really all the time you have. I have no particular love for your cause and no intention of going out of my way to help you—not far out of my way, at least—and yet I understand that you two are largely responsible for the departure