PIGGS - A Novel with Bonus Screenplay (8 page)

"Up there."

"Up where?"

"Up there, Mr. Dupree."

"I asked you to call me Cec–
 
Holy shit, you're kidding, right?
 
Doesn't anybody live up there."

"Well I'm anybody, I take offense to that."

"You're overly sensitive, anyone ever tell you that?"
 
Cecil peered up again.
 
"Maybe no one mentioned it before, this isn't your ordinary house."

"I'm not a ordinary person, I don't pretend to be."

That is the goddamn truth, Cecil thought, staring at the thing, looking straight up, looking at it perched there, thirty, forty feet up in the big oak tree, blocking out everything, blocking out the whole fucking sky.
 
How it got up there was something else again, but it was there, all right, a really big mother, bigger than the relics on the ground, just hanging in the branches like it grew right there, and Cecil knew it hadn't done that, knew someone put it there.

"Well, it is something to see, I got to say that," Cecil said, because he couldn't think of anything else.
 
"Say, am I still going to get a drink?"

"I said coffee, don't be expecting something else."

"Coffee's fine.
 
I don't suppose you got a doughnut too?"

"No," she said, "I don't suppose I do."

"No problem," Cecil said, and anyone who knew him knew that wasn't so, knew he had doughnuts, coffee, scrambled eggs and bacon, every morning at nine.

It was light enough to see him well now.
 
She looked to the side, didn't look him in the face.
 
It was awkward to keep doing that, worse if you didn't even try.
 
Cecil looked bad.
 
Cecil looked bad all the time.
 
He might, though, look a little worse, she decided, in the pale morning lavender light.

"I don't mean to be blunt," she told him, "don't take what I'm saying like that.
 
What I'm saying is, I don't have company a lot, Mr. Dupr–Cecil.
 
Nothing personal, it's just the way I am. In the entertainment field you're with people all the time, I don't have to tell you that.
 
I don't get a lot of time to myself.
 
When I do, it is precious to me, and I don't care to share it with anyone else.
 
So how long you think this talking's going to take?"

Cecil blinked.
 
"Hell, I don't know how long we're going to talk, I'm hoping to get it done quick."

"I hope I don't misunderstand that."

"I surely hope you don't, I can't imagine any reason that you would.
 
What I was thinking, we could have that coffee,
 
maybe you could be polite.
 
I'm sure you had manners one time, I'm sure your mother said treat people nice.
 
I think we could get to know one another, get to be friends, see what happens after tha—"

Cecil stopped.
 
Gloria was gone.
 
She'd walked away and simply disappeared.
 
Cecil looked behind him, turned and looked ahead.
 
Stepped around a big live oak that was broad as he was tall.
 
Scrap wood rungs had been nailed to the trunk, like a little kid had put them there.
 
Stepping back then, squinting through the branches, through the half light, he saw her there, climbing straight up.

"Oh Jesus," Cecil said.
 
He felt a little knot in his belly, felt a little something in his throat.
 
The tree seemed to lean, seemed to waver, seemed to sway.
 
Cecil wasn't scared of anything at all.
 
Cecil wasn't even scared of God.
 
He was scared to even think about climbing up a tree.
 
And, he thought, if anyone knew that, anyone at Piggs, Cat Eye or Grape or anyone at all...

He took a deep breath.
 
Kept his eye steady on the trunk.
 
Didn't look up, didn't look down.
 
Slid one hand up the tree, clutched one rung and then the next.
 
Slid one leg and then another after that.
 
Hugged the tree hard, learned trees were big, learned trees were sound.
 
Learned, if you didn't let go, the tree would be your friend.

Stopped once.
 
Wiped off the sweat with his sleeve, keeping both hands on the tree.
 
Risked a glance up, knew, at once, this was the wrong thing to do.
 
Saw where he was, saw the trees and the sky.
 
Knew he was high enough to die.
 
Knew he was—–

"THIS IS YOUR JU 52 JUNKERS AIRPLANE, THE WORKHORSE OF THEGERMAN AIR FORCE..."

The loudspeaker blared.
 
Fifty-two strings of Christmas tree lights started blinking overhead. Cecil nearly lost it, Cecil hugged the tree for dear life.

"...WHAT MANY OF YOU MAY NOT KNOW IS AN EARLY VERSION OF THIS CELEBRATED CRAFT–Grrrrrrrk-hissssh!–TOOK WING IN1930.
 
AFTER THAT IT WENT THROUGH MANY ALTERATIONS INCLUDING PASSENGER AIRPLANE, TRANSPORT AND BOMBER,
 
BECOMING, AS MANY OF YOU KNOW, ONE OF–Skkkkkrreeeek–THE MOST FAMOUS AIRCRAFT OF ALL TIME.
 
THE PLANE YOU SEE HERE WAS FIRST BUILT AT THE JUNKERS FLUGDZENG UND MOTERENWERKE AG.
 
RIGHT BEFORE THE WAR, THE g3e BOMBER TYPES WERE ROLLING OUT OF FACTORIES AT DESSAU AND BERNBERG.
 
POWERED BY–Shrrriiik—hrrrrrr!–THREE BMW 132T DASH TWO RADIAL ENGINES, THE PLANE ATTAINED A MAXIMUM SPEED OF THREE-OH-FIVE KILOMETRES PER HOUR, WITH A RANGE OF–Griiiiik-griiik!...

"Sorry 'bout that," Gloria said, poking her head out an open port above.
 
"Can't ever get that tape to go anywhere but high. Shoot, I guess you noticed that.
 
You all right, Mr. Dupree?
 
You coming up or what?"

"...I
can tell you there's people who'll say it right out, I mean, even if they're tryin' to be polite, you know what I mean?
 
Someone wouldn't incite your feelings for anything at all like Maggie Thatch whom I'm very close to?
 
Well you'd think, until it all comes out.
 
We are in the middle of a TV show, that Discovery thing about gnus?
 
She hits that MUTE and says, Gloria Jean, you're a absolute nut, you are crazy as shit, girlfriend.
 
Isn't anyone mentally right living in a German warplane. Isn't any fucking Germans doin' that.
 
They're living in houses like everybody else.

"Well I am taken aback.
 
I tell her, look, it is not for everyone, it is just fine for me.
 
I don't tell you not to live in the Lamprey Motel, which I wouldn't drive by, hon, for fear of a social disease.
 
Well she didn't take well to that, things haven't been right between us since.

"See I grew up in this thing, okay?
 
Lord, I know that spiel by heart.
 
Every time I hear Daddy talk I like to bust out crying but I haven't got the heart to take him off.

"The place went busted when I was thirteen, just after mama died, and that flat finished Daddy off.
 
He took to drink soon after and I went to live with Aunt Brill.
 
I don't guess I'd of ever come back if he hadn't passed on.
 
I needed a place real bad, or you wouldn't see this girl in Mexican Wells, I'd be somewhere they got a street light.
 
I hope you're not looking for sugar or cream, I don't serve either one."

"Black's the way I like it," Cecil said, "that's fine."

It wasn't, it was bad.
 
Instant, not even hot, not even stirred, little black crystals floating on top.
 
He'd watched her make it, knew what he'd get.
 
Watched her in the very tight kitchen up between the wings.
 
Hot plate, counter and a sink, little tiny fridge.
 
Not a whole lot, but there was hardly room for that.

Jesus Christ, hardly room for anything, as far as he could tell.
 
He wondered how people got about.
 
Wondered if Germans were smaller than anyone else.
 
It was kind of like the tunnels you used to crawl in, write dirty stuff on the walls.
 
Only these walls were corrugated tin.
 
The walls, the floors, inside the plane and out.
 
The whole thing astonished Cecil.
 
And, at the same time, made him feel at home.
 
This was the very same stuff he'd used to build Piggs.
 
Why, he could build a bomber himself if he ever wanted to.

There were little canvas seats, folded up right against the wall.
 
You wanted to sit, you folded one down.
 
Gloria had put little cushions down, souvenirs from several Western states.
 
Good idea, Cecil thought.
 
A lot of Germans had sat in those seats, and they weren't exactly clean.

C
ecil sat and watched.
 
Watched that tight little ass when she bent for something low.
 
Watched how the T-shirt bared her belly button when she reached for something high.
 
Knew he was right, knew the climb was worth the trip.
 
Man, he loved to see her dressed.
 
He wanted her just like this.
 
Maybe she had some other clothes, women always did.
 
Maybe he could see her in a lot of different stuff.

"–I used to take cream and sugar both, I mean spoonfuls, I don't mean a little bit, you know what that does to the body tissue, well I quit that.
 
You want to keep dancin' you can't even look at something's got sugar or fat–"

Gloria stopped, felt her face flush.
 
Saw him looking at her, tried to look at something else.

"I am babbling like a brook, you know what?
 
I don't ever do that.
 
I'm a little hot, that fan's not working just right."

"Fan's just fine," Cecil said.
 
"What you're doing, hon, you're running kinda scared."

Gloria nearly dropped her cup.
 
"Just what do you mean by that?
 
What have I got to be scared about, Mr. Dupree?"

"I guess you'd know as well as me."

"I don't guess I would."

Cecil had to grin.
 
He knew scared when he saw it.
 
She sat on a stool, sat with her knees real tight.
 
Holding the saucer on her knees, looking at him now like he'd caught her in his headlights, caught her in the road.

"You didn't want me comin' up here, you're madder'n hell about that.
 
You tried being nasty, that didn't work, so you start running off at the mouth.
 
Now that is a normal behavior, that and pissin' in your pants.
 
What you're thinking, you're thinking, is he going to make me fuck him or not?
 
That's what I came for, you know that as well as me, that's why I got you in the car."

"Well are you?"

"I was.
 
That was my intention.
 
I might not do it now."

"Why not?
 
I mean, I'm grateful for your hesitation, I appreciate that."

"I used to do crazy shit, you know?
 
Stuff a kid'll do, like you see this mes'can walking, you know you're goin' to run the sucker down.
 
Haven't got any damn reason, okay?
 
You just flat gotta run him down.
 
Another thing is, take something off a fella, something you don't even need.
 
He's maybe got a dollar, he's got a fuckin' comb.
 
Burn some bozo's trailer down.
 
Used to do that all the time.
 
You don't even know the guy, you burn his trailer down.

"See that's growing up.
 
You get to be a adult person, you quit doing shit like that, you start using your head.
 
You say, Cecil, Cecil Dupree, you got a choice.
 
You can do what you want, you can do anything you like, can't anyone can stop you doing that.
 
You can screw this very lovely person all night, you don't even gotta ask.
 
You get tired of that you can burn her fucking airplane down.

"You don't want to do that, you can give her a puppy.
 
Give her a kitty cat.
 
 
Give her a trip to Paris, France.
 
You don't have to do none of the above, you don't have to do anything at all.
 
You see what I'm saying?
 
You get to be Cecil Dupree, it's just as big a kick not to do something as it is.
 
Hey, I never get into personal stuff, I think I'm kinda taken with you."