Welcome to the Monkey House - Kurt Vonnegut [69]
"He smiled!"
"Look at him light up!"
"Doggone if he didn’t stumble right into heaven! I mean!"
"Talk about displaced persons," said the sergeant, hugging Joe, "this here’s the most displaced little old person I ever saw. Upside down and inside out and ever’ which way."
"Here, boy—here’s some more chocolate."
"Don’t give him no more," said the sergeant reproachfully. "You want to make him sick?"
"Naw, sarge, naw—don’t wanna make him sick. No, sir."
"What’s going on here?" The lieutenant, a small, elegant Negro, the beam of his flashlight dancing before him, approached the group.
"Got a little boy here, lieutenant," said the sergeant. "Just wandered into the battery. Must of crawled past the guards."
"Well, send him on home, sergeant."
"Yessir. I planned to." He cleared his throat. "But this ain’t no ordinary little boy, lieutenant." He opened his arms so that the light fell on Joe’s face.
The lieutenant laughed incredulously, and knelt before Joe. "How’d you get here?"
"All he talks is German, lieutenant," said the sergeant.
"Where’s your home?" said the lieutenant in German.
"Over more water than you’ve ever seen," said Joe.
"Where do you come from?"
"God made me," said Joe.
"This boy is going to be a lawyer when he grows up," said the lieutenant in English. "Now, listen to me," he said to Joe, "what’s your name, and where are your people?"
"Joe Louis," said Joe, "and you are my people. I ran away from the orphanage, because I belong with you."
The lieutenant stood, shaking his head, and translated what Joe had said.
The woods echoed with glee.
"Joe Louis! I thought he was awful big and powerfullookin’!"
"Jus’ keep away from that left—tha’s all!"
"If he’s Joe, he’s sure found his people. He’s got us there!"
"Shut up!" commanded the sergeant suddenly. "All of you just shut up. This ain’t no joke! Ain’t nothing funny in it! Boy’s all alone in the world. Ain’t no joke."
A small voice finally broke the solemn silence that followed. "Naw—ain’t no joke at all."
"We better take the jeep and run him back into town, sergeant," said the lieutenant. "Corporal Jackson, you’re in charge."
"You tell ’em Joe was a good boy," said Jackson.
"Now, Joe," said the lieutenant in German, softly, "you come with the sergeant and me. We’ll take you home."
Joe dug his fingers into the sergeant’s forearms. "Papa! No—papa! I want to stay with you."
"Look, sonny, I ain’t your papa," said the sergeant helplessly. "I ain’t your papa."
"Papa!"
"Man, he’s glued to you, ain’t he, sergeant?" said a soldier. "Looks like you ain’t never goin’ to pry him loose. You got yourself a boy there, sarge, and he’s got hisself a papa."
The sergeant walked over to the jeep with Joe in his arms. "Come on, now," he said, "you leggo, little Joe, so’s I can drive. I can’t drive with you hangin’ on, Joe. You sit in the lieutenant’s lap right next to me."
The group formed again around the jeep, gravely now, watching the sergeant try to coax Joe into letting go.
"I don’t want to get tough, Joe. Come on—take it easy, Joe. Let go, now, Joe, so’s I can drive. See, I can’t steer or nothin’ with you hanging on right there."
"Papa!"
"Come on, over to my lap, Joe," said the lieutenant in German.
"Papa!"
"Joe, Joe, looky," said a soldier. "Chocolate! Want some more chocolate, Joe? See? Whole bar, Joe, all yours. Jus’ leggo the sergeant and move over into the lieutenant’s lap."
Joe tightened his grip on the sergeant.
"Don’t put the chocolate back in your pocket, man! Give it to Joe anyways," ’said a soldier angrily. "Somebody go get a case of D bars off the truck, and throw ’em in the back for Joe. Give that boy chocolate enough for the nex’ twenny years."
"Look, Joe," said another soldier, "ever see a wristwatch? Look at the wristwatch, Joe. See it glow, boy? Move over in the lieutenant’s lap, and I’ll let you listen to it tick. Tick, tick, tick, Joe. Come on, want to listen?"
Joe didn