Absence of the Hero (31 page)

“Hey, fucker,” said Reddough, “lemme tell you something: God is going to protect His
own
!”

“Red, maybe there isn't a God.”

Reddough stood up. “
THAT'S IT
!”

“What?”

“
NOBODY SAYS WORDS LIKE THAT IN MY HOUSE
!”

With that, he came flying across the table, a big wingless sodden thing. Harry ducked to the left and the mass of muscle (and fat) fell face forward across the floor, skidded against the wall, then rose, puffing, chest out, eyebrows twisted. Reddough moved toward Harry who had rolled under the table and had come up on the other side.

“Red, I was just kidding. I'm sure there's a God somewhere. Right?”

Reddough wavered there across the table. “You're a coward!”

“Right. And listen, it might make you feel better to know that I don't even
want
to fuck your sister-in-law. She wants to fuck me.”

Tina screamed and threw her Pepsi-Cola bottle at Harry. It bounced off his head, fell to the floor. There was a tiny ringing sound inside of Harry's skull.

Reddough moved forward a couple of steps as if to circle the table.

“Listen, Red, all men are brothers. Similar blood, similar fingers, similar bungholes, similar sorrows. Think about it!”

“Huh?”

Reddough stood there, seemingly unsure then of what to do and why. He wavered forward, then backward, then sat back down at the table. Harry sat down across from him. Ann and Tina stood watching.

“Pour me a good one, Red.”

“Yeah.”

He filled both water glasses to the rims. The fifth was empty.

Harry raised his glass. “Here's to us!”

They clicked glasses and each drained about half a glass.

Red looked at Harry. “You know, city boy, I kind of like you. You say what you think even if it is fucked-up.”

“You say what you think too, Red.”

“That's important, isn't it?”

“Yeah.”

“You don't want to fuck my wife, do you?”

“No, Red.”

“Anyhow, you're ugly. You don't worry me.”

“Thanks, Red.”

Suddenly Red put his head down on the table, knocking over his drink as he did so. He was out. . . .

Harry finished his drink, stood up, looked around, saw Ann.

“Goodnight, Ann.”

Then Tina was leading him by the hand. Then they were in the guest bedroom. Nice place.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes. Tina was disrobing near the closet.

“You had a lucky night, Harry.”

“I prey on good luck. It feeds me.”

“I know. You're lucky to have me, Harry.”

“Sure, Tina.”

Harry got his clothes off and put himself down under the cover and between the clean sheets. Life was not so bad. Now, if he could get rid of that number in L.A. he could start all over again. He evolved off into sleep. . . .

It could have been 3
A
.
M
., 4
A
.
M
., one of those—anyhow, he was awakened to find Tina riding him topside. It startled him that he was hard. Her head was bent back and she was groaning. He played along with it.

“O.K., baby, ride the bronco!”

But all he wanted to do was to be back in L.A. watching the Johnny Carson monologue on
TV
and not liking it at all. But it was a place to be. A candy-cotton numb dream of isolation. And no trouble, no trouble at all.

Harry reached out, grabbed the cheeks of Tina's ass and said, “Work it, baby, you beautiful fucking whore. . . .”

It was a hot Saturday night, late. There had been nothing worthwhile on cable
TV
but they had watched it anyhow, relentlessly, and without hope. Harry had drunk a bottle of red wine and Ann about a half.

Now they were in the bedroom attempting to sleep but it was difficult: bad
TV
only put you to sleep while you were watching it. But their dog, Redeye, was asleep. In fact, he was snoring. Down there on the rug. No bad memories of rotten
TV
for Redeye.

The minutes rolled into a half-hour . . . then into almost an hour . . . and . . . at last Harry felt himself slowly easing into sleep. . . .

Sleep . . . ah, sleep. . . .

Then Ann was shaking him . . . “
HARRY
!
HARRY
!”

“Huh? What is it?”

“
EYES
!”

“What?”

“
EYES
!
I SAW THESE EYES STARING THROUGH THE WINDOW
!”

“What window?”

“
THAT WINDOW
!
THE ONE TO THE RIGHT
!
THERE BY THE BUSH
!
THE EYES WERE LOOKING AT ME RIGHT OVER THE TOP OF THE BUSH
!”

“Are they gone now?”

“Yes. . . .”

“Then let's go to sleep.”

“
HARRY, YOU FIND OUT WHAT THOSE EYES WERE
!
I'M TERRIFIED
!”

“All right, all right. . . .”

Harry wandered through the yard in slippers, pjs and robe, along with a flashlight and the baseball bat. He could see Ann watching from the window. He poked through the brush with the bat, flashing the light.

“O.K., Peep freak, come on out! I won't hurt you too much! Come on out now, we'll talk the whole thing over! I'm a recovered peep-freak myself. Come on out and we'll talk about some of the good things I've seen!”

“Harry,” Ann hissed from the window, “it's not funny! Be careful!”

Harry kept poking in the brush and flashing the light.

“Come on out, baby! We'll go inside and watch some porno movies!”

There seemed to be nothing about. Harry turned to re-enter the house.

It was then he heard
something
running behind him.

“
SHIT
!” Harry yelled.

He swung the bat at the thing and missed. The thing leaped high, quite high and landed on a small ledge that ran across the top of the back door. There wasn't much space on that ledge but the thing managed to cling there.

Harry walked closer and flashed the light upwards. And he saw the
EYES. 
. . .

THE WILD, FEARFUL CRAZY EYES
.

“Harry, Harry . . . what
is
it? Be careful! . . .”

Harry flashed the light fully upon the thing.

“Ann, it's a goddamned
MONKEY
!”

“A monkey?”

“Yes, a monkey. . . .”

“Oh, I'll be right out . . .”

“Don't come out the back door . . . it's hanging out there, over the top . . . on the little ledge. . . .”

“I'm coming out the window. . . .”

“Stay in there . . . it might bite. . . .”

“No, I'm coming out. . . .”

Harry heard the screen push open and there was Ann clambering out over the brush. . . .

“Oh, I tore my nighty. . . .” she was at his side.

“Where is he?”

Harry flashed the light. “Up there . . . look. . . .”

“Oh, the poor thing . . . he's
terrified
!”

Harry said, “I'm going to call the zoo or the fire department or Animal Control or somebody!”

“Oh, Harry, not at
this
time of the night!”

“I can't think of a better time.”

“Harry, he's scared to death! Look at him!”

“Yeah.”

“He only wants understanding . . . love. . . .”

“He needs the sanctuary of the cage . . . that will buck him up.”

“No, wait, Harry, please . . . I'll be right back. . . .”

Ann was clambering through the window again.

Harry kept the light on the monkey. Actually the thing scared him, a bit. It moved too fast and it looked weak in the brain. A fucker like that could do anything. It could turn on you in a flash.

The
EYES
kept looking at him. There, they were red. Then a pale orange. Now they were lit by a long yellow inner glow, rather like an electric charge. All colors of danger.

Then Ann was there again.

“I've got some bananas. . . .”

“Bananas?”

“Yes, the poor thing is probably
STARVING
!”

Ann moved forward. She had two bananas. She dropped one to the ground. Then she half-peeled the other and held it up to the monkey.

“Come on down . . . Come on down, you poor thing . . . Come on down and get your banana!”

“Ann, that goddamned thing isn't going to come down! I'm going to phone the authorities!”

“Come on down, Bozo, and get your nice banana! Come on down, Bozo!”

“Bozo?”

“Bozo
loves
bananas,
don't
you, Bozo?”

“Ann, that thing is never. . . .”

Bozo leaped down in a forceful arc. He stood still there upon the ground. Then in a lightning flash movement he shot along the ground. But he didn't take the banana from Ann's hand. He grabbed the other one, ran off a short distance, peeled the banana, and gulped it down.

“Poor Bozo, he's
starving
!”

“All right, Ann, let's leave him the other banana and go on in.”

“
What
? We can't leave that poor thing out there all night!”

“Why not? He's from the
jungle
! They
love
the night!”

“Harry, I won't be able to sleep while thinking about him out here all night alone!”

“And I sure as hell won't be able to sleep with him inside our place!”

The monkey just sat on the lawn, motionless, watching them.

“Besides,” said Harry, “he won't come in. He's wild.”

“Oh, the poor thing . . . he'll come in . . . watch. . . .”

Ann walked over, opened the back door, then moved toward Bozo, dangling the half-peeled banana before her.

“Come on, Bozo, come on inside. Lots of bananas inside, Bozo. Come on. . . .”

Bozo moved toward the banana. Ann backed up. Bozo followed. Ann moved up the steps of the house, going backwards. She dangled the banana. Bozo followed.

“Come on, Bozo. Good old, Bozo. . . .”

Ann backed into the house and the monkey followed her.

As Harry got inside, Bozo was finishing off the banana. Then he looked down at the skins, made a nasty sound, and threw them over his head.

Then he walked over to Redeye's dogfood dish. There was some dogfood in there. Bozo bent over, stuck his head in there, and began eating. He had his rump up in the air and it was ugly, red, and full of bloody scratches.

“I didn't think they ate meat,” Harry stated.

“He's starving, poor thing. . . .”

“In the morning I'm going to phone somebody. This thing
belongs
somewhere. . . .”

“Harry, he belongs here. The Fates have sent him.”

“Well, the Fates are out of luck. . . .”

“Harry, I've always wanted a baby. . . .”

“Oh, Christ! . . .”

Bozo finished the dogfood, then slowly walked into the front room. Ann and Harry followed.

“Look at him, Harry! He acts right at home!”

“Stuffed with bananas and dogfood. . . .”

Bozo leaped up on the back of the couch. There he slumped over and closed his eyes.

“Look, Harry, he's going to sleep!”

Suddenly . . . Bozo let it go: he defecated on the back of the couch. It was diarrhea-like, a large wet splotch of stringy material. It smelled similar to burning rubber and ammonia.

Bozo then reached down into it, got some on his fingers . . . then rubbed the fingers around his mouth.

Then, he screeched in joy, leaped upon the rug.

“That thing has got to go!” said Harry.

“I'll clean it up! Harry, the poor thing just couldn't help himself!”

Ann ran to the kitchen for her cleanup materials.

Just then . . . Redeye walked into the room. The dog. Redeye was an old swayback mongrel in his last years. In the old days he had been tougher than love gone wrong but Time had no consciousness: when the dog saw the monkey, the dog slowly walked backwards, whimpering. He slowly walked, crept backwards, low-down, low-born at last, he retreated, he vanished from the game.

Bozo gave a little Tarzan victory-call, beating his chest
with one hand. Then he stopped, looked at the hand,
sensed something in his fingers: a flea had exited in
all the fury of this victory, got caught in a
nail and Bozo bent down and ate one of his
eternal enemies.

Well, thought Harry, now it's just me and the fucking monkey.

The next day, a Sunday, Harry was watching a professional football game on
TV
and drinking beer. Ann and Bozo were in and out of the house, playing. Nothing too untoward had happened. . . . Well, Bozo had shit on top of the refrigerator.

It was a good football game and Harry
almost forgot about the monkey. Redeye was at his side,
trembling but true, trying to gather in his lost past.
Harry reached down, petted the old mongrel. . . .

“Don't worry, we'll get rid of that son of a bitch. . . .”

And he drained his beer can.

At least Ann wasn't trying to get him to take her to some movie. She had her movie: that red-assed subnormal hunk of fur.

Harry left the
TV
to go take a piss.

Then he had to come out fast to all the yelping and chattering: Bozo was dug into Redeye's back, riding him. The dog was running about the room, crazed.

Harry made a flying tackle and then they were all about the floor: dog, monkey, and man.

Redeye shot off into the other room.

The monkey leaped onto the coffee table, grabbed a banana, peeled it, and gulped it down. . . .

Late that night, Harry and Ann were in bed together.

They hadn't made love for about three weeks. Somehow, they got into it.

Harry worked away. For the first time in a long time he felt normal again. Sex wasn't terrible at all. It was quite interesting.

He had once been a hell of a lover. Or so it had seemed.

For it all, it was going well.

Then . . . Ann began giggling . . . wildly. . . .

“What the fuck?” Harry asked.

He fell out.

“Look! Quick!” Ann said.

Harry turned his head.

Bozo had been watching.

He was on top of the dresser, masturbating.

He had a long thin red string of a thing and he was beating at it. His eyes had a dumb blank look.

Bozo gave a little yelp. He was finished. He leaped off of the dresser and ran out of the room.

Ann was still giggling.

“That was really funny!”

“Yeah?”

“Baby, that fucking thing has got to
go
!”

Upon awakening that
A.M.
Harry grabbed the phone, phoned in sick.

“I'm not sure what it is,” he told them, “but I'm coming down with
something
and I think it's something
bad. 
. . .”

He slowly hung the phone up.

“What is it?” Ann asked. “What are you coming down with, Harry? What can I do?”

“Nothing. Where's that goddamned monkey?”