The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [124]
“It sure caused a stink, didn’t it? But anyway, I’m glad they exonerated you.”
“It was all accident. And what the hell, the kid was just a goddamn alley-rat. I don’t see why there was so much trouble about it.”
XVI
Jim Doyle stuck a fat cigar in his face, and rubbed his right hand over the alderman he was starting to develop.
“Now, Lonigan, remember and always vote Democratic,” Jim said, buttonholing Studs.
“Sure, the old man’s a good Democrat,” Studs said.
“It’s only a left-handed mick who’d vote Republican. Hell, Lonigan, if the Irish only would stick together and realize that the Democrats are their party, they could run this city. And if they don’t, well, the Jews and Polacks will be stepping all over them.”
“Sure.”
“Too bad you’re not in my precinct... Anyway, a vote’s a vote.”
“You precinct captain now?”
“No, I just help out Old Rubenstein.”
“Oh!”
“Well, congratulations, old man, and so long.”
Jim turned back and handed Studs a cigar.
XVII
“Say, Vinc, remember the girl you kissed at Sarah Windlemann’s beach party last month, Mary the Wop?” Runt asked.
Vinc Curley, tall with an enlarged and elongated head, and a mouth chronically opened like a fly trap, gaped at them, visibly remembering and curious.
“I haven’t got the heart to tell the guy what she’s got,” Runt said, giving Young Rocky a knowing eye.
“But, Runt, it’s only fair to tell him,” Young Rocky said after due reflection.
Young Rocky studied a cold sore on Vinc’s lip. He looked dolorous, and placed a hand on Vinc’s shoulder.
“Vine, I hate to tell you, but you’re my pal... Mary the Wop has syphilis.”
“Yeah, the dirty bitch!” Runt said with feigned hate.
“And... fellows... have I got it too?” Vine asked after a long pause.
Balefully, they nodded affirmation. He asked what it meant, what he should do. They answered with mysterious remarks about something gotten in drug stores, called G.O. 45. They told him it was very serious, and made the skin maggoty, caused it to moulder, and might even lead to blindness, deafness, dumbness, and his arms might even fall off, his eyes drop out, and his toes fall apart. Terrible thing! And he had better get it taken care of immediately.
“Vine, old pal, they’ll put you in quarantine, and we’ll miss you,” Runt said, slowly extending his hand.
Young Rocky sliced Runt’s elbow, warning him not to risk contagion by shaking hands with Vine.
Vine bolted out of the poolroom.
XVIII
“Tough about Paulie Haggerty, my old buddy,” Hennessey said.
“Say, just what is wrong with him?” asked Lou Bruner.
“Every goddamn thing. Clap, gonorrheal rheumatism, his heart is shot, his lungs are gone, and he has ulcers of the stomach. The guy has just drunk and jazzed himself to death.”
“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Lou.
XIX
“Yes, I said the Republicans, they went and steal the election from Cox by crookedness,” Andy defiantly declared.
“Where did you get all that inside doper’ asked Darby Dan Drennan.
“My father told me. And he ought to know. Doesn’t he belong to the Ku Klux Klan?”
“Fellows, his old man wears a nightshirt and burns fiery crosses in empty prairies,” said Darby Dan, guffawing.
“He don’t neither.”
“His old man rides around in bed-sheets on a horse,” said Darby Dan.
“Where does he keep the horse?” asked Pochon.
“He ain’t got no horse.”
“Does he belong to the Ku Klux Klan?” asked Drennan.
“Yes,” Andy proudly said.
“Then, he’s got to have a horse.”
“He doesn’t need no horse,” Andy shouted above their laughter.
“If he hasn’t got a horse, how can he wear his nightshirt and go riding?” laughed Pochon.
Andy stuttered.
XX
“Whenever you think about girls, you know, wondering if they are all they’re cracked up to be, more decent and better than guys, think of this angle! Think of the keenest broad you know sitting down to take a great big healthy…”
“What sweet thoughts you have,” Swede said, interrupting Young Rocky.
“Guys talking like you do, just don’t rate.”
“Is that so, Hennessey? Well, lemme tell you that since I came here from Kansas City two years ago, I’ve