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... So Fag, Beagle, Irish, Sailor beware! Look down, look down along that line before you travel there...." The subway sweeps by with a black blast of iron. THE EXTERMINATOR DOES A GOOD JOB The Sailor touched the door gently, following pat- terns of painted oak in a slow twist, leaving faint, iri- descent whorls of slime. His arm went through to the elbow. He pulled back an inside bolt and stood aside for the boy to enter. Heavy, colorless smell of death filled the empty room. "The trap hasn't been aired since the Exterminator fumigated for coke bugs," said the Sailor apologetically. The boy's peeled senses darted about in frenzied ex- ploration. Tenement Hat, railroad Hat vibrating with silent motion. Along one wall of the kitchen a metal trough -- or was it metal, exactly? -- ran into a sort of aquarium or tank half-filled with translucent green fluid. Moldy objects, worn out in unknown service, littered the Boor: a jock-strap designed to protect some delicate organ of Hat, fan-shape; multi-levelled trusses, supports and bandages; a large U-shaped yoke of porous pink stone; little lead tubes cut open at one end. Currents of movement from the two bodies stirred stagnant odor pools; atrophied boy-smell of dusty locker rooms, swimming pool chlorine, dried semen. Other smells curled through pink convolutions, touching un- known doors. The Sailor reached under the wash-stand and ex- tracted a package in wrapping paper that shredded and fell from his fingers in yellow dust. He laid out dropper, needle and spoon on a table covered with dirty dishes. But no roach antennae felt for the crumbs of darkness. "The Exterminator does a good job," said the Sailor. "Almost too good, sometimes." He dipped into a square tin of yellow pyretheum powder and pulled out a Hat package covered in red and gold Chinese paper. "Like a firecracker package," the boy thought. At fourteen lost two fingers.... Fourth of July fireworks accident... later, in the hospital, first silent proprietary touch of junk. "They go off, here, kid." The Sailor put a hand to the back of his head. He camped obscenely as he opened the package, a complex arrangement of slots and over- lays. "Pure, one hundred per cent H. Scarcely a man is now alive. |
