Read Online Bagombo Snuff Box by Kurt Vonnegut - Free Book Online

into the silence
that followed Maude’s comment, “and to what do we owe the honor of this visit?”
    “For old times’ sake,” said Charley. “I happened to be in
town, and I remem—”
    Before Charley could elaborate, he was interrupted by a
party composed of Lou Converse, a photographer from Home Beautiful, and a
young, pretty woman writer.
    The photographer, who introduced himself simply as Slotkin,
took command of the household, and as he was to do for the whole of his stay,
he quashed all talk and activities not related to getting the magazine pictures
taken. “Zo,” said Slotkin, “und de gimmick is de pagatch, eh?”
    “Baggage?” said Earl.
    “Package,” said the writer. “See, the angle on the story is
that you come home from a world cruise to a complete package for living—everything
anybody could possibly want for a full life.”
    “Oh.”
    “It’s complete,” said Lou Converse, “complete right down to
a fully stocked wine cellar and a pantry filled with gourmet specialties.
Brand-new cars, brand-new everything but wine.”
    ‘Aha! Dey vin a condezt.”
    “He sold his factory and retired,” said Converse.
    “Maude and I figured we owed ourselves a little something,”
said Earl. “We held back all these years, putting money back into the business
and all, and then, when the kids were grown up and the big offer came for the
plant, we all of a sudden felt kind of crazy, and said, ‘Why not?’ And we just
went ahead and ordered everything we’d ever wanted.”
    Earl glanced at Charley Freeman, who stood apart and in the
background, half smiling, seeming to be fascinated by the scene. “We started
out, Maude and I,” said Earl, “in a two-room apartment down by the docks. Put
that in the story.”
    “We had love,” said Maude.
    “Yes,” said Earl, “and I don’t want people to think I’m just
another stuffed shirt who was born with a wad of money and blew himself to this
setup. No, sir! This is the end of a long, hard road. Write that down. Charley
remembers me back in the old days, when I had to work my way through school.”
    “Rugged days for Earl,” said Charley.
    Now the center of attention, Earl felt his self-confidence
returning, and he began to see Charley’s coming back into his life at this
point as a generous act of fate, a fine opportunity to settle the old scores
once and for all. “It wasn’t the work that made it rugged,” Earl said
pointedly.
    Charley seemed surprised by Earl’s vehemence. “All right,”
he said, “then the work wasn’t rugged. It was so long ago I can remember it
either way.”
    “I mean it was tough being looked down on because I wasn’t
born with a silver spoon in my mouth,” said Earl.
    “Earl!” said Charley, smiling in his incredulity. ‘As many
fatheads as we had for fraternity brothers, not one of them for a minute looked
down—”
    “Make ready for de pigdures,” Slotkin said. “Stardt mit de
grill—breadt, saladt, und a big, bloody piece of meadt.”
    The, maid brought a five-pound slab of steak from the
freezer, and Earl held it over the grill. “Hurry up,” he said. “Can’t hold a
cow at arm’s length all day.” Behind his smile, however, he was nettled by
Charley’s bland dismissal of his college grievances.
    “Hold it!” said Slotkin. The flashbulbs went off. “Good!”
    And the party moved indoors. There, Earl and Maude posed in
room after room, watering a plant in the solarium, reading the latest book
before the living room fireplace, working push-button windows, chatting with
the maid over the laundry console, planning menus, having a drink at the rumpus
room bar, sawing a plank in the workshop, dusting off Earl’s gun collection in
the den.
    And always, there was Charley Freeman at the rear of the entourage,
missing nothing, obviously amused as Maude and Earl demonstrated their packaged
good life. Under Charley’s gaze, Earl became more and more restless and
self-conscious as he performed, and