The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [114]
"Danger, I have to admit that what you say is true"
"What in the name of God is that, Mac?"
"He, he."
Mac lifted from a crumpled heap at the foot of his bed the head of a kangaroo. He put it over his skull and wagged it He climbed into the rest of the body and danced around the room.
"Mac, I think it's magnificent"
"My drinking suit And here, a little present I know you will appreciate"
Mac hands over a small brown replica of the head of Blessed Oliver.
"Mac, I don't think you'll ever know how much I need or will cherish this. The teeth are perfect Most significant part of Oliver. Eeeeeee and E for effort Help me spread the fair name of Oliver to these ones with not an ounce of God in them"
"I made the teeth from a piano key"
"Miraculous"
"Wear it"
"I will. And now Mac I must ask us both have we got mouths"
Climbing up out through the jaws, gray trees and night Along the empty wet streets. Huge windows there and a servant comes and pulls the curtains. A great black car glides by, tires humming on the street
"Mac, that's good to see."
"I agree Danger."
"And I haven't seen such wealth for years. Not for years. And I need it. Need it."
"And up here Danger is the Bear Pit but first I must show you something across the street which I know you will be taken with."
MacDoon led Dangerfield over the road. They stopped in front of a fountain and a recess in the wall. There was a poem.
God
Bless
The
Poor.
"Mac, I hope it won't embarrass you if I just kneel down here and offer up a little prayer from the pavement. That's a very fine thing. If more people felt that way would we have strife? Would we? I ask you would we have strife?"
"I can only say Danger that I have been driven to designing bras the uplift of which will put a new lust into the hearts of these citizens"
The mellow lights through the frosted windows. Entering into the saloon bar with its flowers and decks of sandwiches. The polished chairs and tables. People of a class with dogs. MacDoon brought over the two pints and laid them on the shiny table. Thirst was general.
Dangerfield leaned back in his chair, folding his legs far away under the table. He smiled.
Sitting talking of Dublin when it had been the Rome of the world. O it's little pitfalls and despairs. Of Clocklan who abandoned ship. MacDoon told of the hard demands made by woman, of how he was beginning to wish he had none at all or that it was so big as to be carried by the London Fire Brigade for use on major fires.
And these dogs. Happy hungry animals. If only I owned one. I know they foul the streets and are at times disgusting with others on various village greens. Despite indelicacy I want one. Preferably of a fine breed and pedigree to go with my own. And MacDoon I must admit you're extraordinarily handsome with fine hands and here you are tinkering in this endless city. Perhaps Mary can pose for you when you design the large sizes. And bring home the bacon to some nice airy room with a fine gas ring and rugs hanging on the walls where I can sit like a detective smoking a pipe and resting feet. I'll read books. Polish my fingernails. I don't care about the other greedy ones. I think I'll have another bath before I go bye bye to my bedi bo.
They parted at the station. Where the red trains went in went out. An Earl's Court for sure. And I ride along on these nice cars looking at everyone.
Back at the hotel crawling weary on the heavy bed. Face on the pillow, covers up over me. And cars squealing around the corners out there.
I set sail all right. Saw the lights of Holyhead. The black Liverpool. And the still birds standing up on top of that building.