The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [62]
"What about your mother?"
"She's dead"
"And you take care of your father and brothers?"
"Yes"
"Why don't you leave? Go to England and get a job."
"I don't want to leave my little brothers. They are only small"
"He can't beat you up now."
"He tries to sometimes but I'm stronger than he is now."
I can look at Mary. What's this thing? She's easy to look at. Are you easy to feel, too? Sleeves of her sweater stuffed up around her elbows, slender smooth wrists and a fine set of shoulders. Wouldn't want to come to grips, 'cept in mutual passion.
There was suddenly a crash at the door, the center boards giving way and a huge head came through singing.
Mary Maloney's beautiful arse
Is a sweet apple of sin.
Give me Mary's beautiful arse
And a full bottle of gin.
A man, his hair congealed by stout and human grease, a red chest blazing from his black coat, stumpy fists rotating around his rocky skull, plunged into the room of tortured souls with a flood of song.
Did your mother come from Jesus
With her hair as white as snow
And the greatest pair of titties
The world did ever know.
Mary tugged at Sebastian,
"Who's that? It's a shocking song he's singing"
That's the son of the rightful Lord Mayor of Dublin. And his uncle wrote the national anthem"
Mary appreciative, smiling.
This man swept across the red tiles wildly greeting people on all sides, telling the room,
"I loved the British prisons. And you lovely women. The fine builds of ye, I'd love to do you all and your young brothers,"
He saw Sebastian,
"For the love of our Holy Father, the Pope, may he get himself another gold typewriter. Give me your hand Sebastian before I beat you to death with bound copies of the Catholic Herald. How are you for Jesus' sake?"
"Barney, I want you to meet Mary. Mary, this is Barney Berry."
"Pleased to know you, Barney,"
"Why you lovely woman, Mary, How are you? I'd love to do you. Don't let this whore touch or pluck your flower. How are you again, Mary?"
"I'm fine."
Barney leaped away and up on the table and did a quick goat dance.
Mary turned to Sebastian.
"He's good gas"
"A fine build of a man, Mary."
"Did his uncle write the song?"
"Mary, when I say something, it's the truth. I speak nothing but the truth. And tell me, Mary, what are you going to do with yourself?"
"What do you mean?"
"In life."
"You mean what am I going to be? I don't know. I don't know what I want to be. When I was little I wanted to be a dancer. I wouldn't mind going to the art school. I like to draw."
"What do you draw?"
"All sorts of things. I like to draw women."
"Why not men?"
"I like women better. I like men too."
"But women most?"
"Yes. No one has ever asked me these questions before. I've never met a nice man."
"None?"
"I don't mean you. I don't know you. Perhaps you're all right. Women are kind."
"Do you like women's bodies ? "
"These are funny questions. Why do you want to know these things anyway?"
"Because you have a nice build."
"How do you know ? "
"By your teeth."
"How?"
"Good teeth a good body. God's teeth are great teeth. Mary you must come with me for a drink."
"Everything is closed."
"O there are places."
The room thick with smoke. Bobbing skulls. Those beaten into silence, glued to the white peeling walls and the beaters, a great bunch. Barney singing, swaying on the tiles. Sweating. Clocklan had left the blonde to drag the little jeweler to the black rear of the catacombs for further discipline. Busting him in the head with the bottom of his fist. I tell you, the place is writhing, simply writhing. Malarkey shouting he was high bloody king and if they all didn't cheer up he would break their faces. Clocklan's woman got up on the table to dance.