Museum.’
‘Just tell me what I am doing in this fucking place,’ she said.
Waiting for the bus, a short distance from the Metropolitan Museum, they were mugged. A tall black man quietly took hold of Susan’s elbow and pressed a knife against her throat. He kept his thumb over the blade so the gesture looked like a caress. Another man held Fred’s elbow and said: ‘Just move real easy and natural and pass me your billfold.’ When he had done so, the man said: ‘OK. Now, real natural, open the lady’s purse and pass me her billfold.’
A bus rolled up. When the bus-driver saw that a robbery was in progress, he hurriedly closed the door and drove off.
Susan commented on this later that night, as she packed.
‘I’m doing just what that bus-driver had the sense to do – clearing out. There are no humans left in this town, only insects. The humans left long ago.’
‘I know, I know. All the same, you can’t just walk out on me.
‘I can and do,’ she said. ‘This city is a cesspit. No wonder the cockroaches feel at home. You can stay here in the cockroach motel as long as you like. Check in and don’t bother checking out.’
‘But give it a chance –’
‘I gave it a chance. I let you convince me we’d see Gene Kelly dancing in the streets or something.’
‘That’s Paris,’ he murmured.
‘All right, then, Robert De Niro and Liza Minnelli riding on a milk-float in the wee small hours. Woody Allen and what’s-her-name, strolling in the mist. So I gave it my chance. I bloody gave it my chance.’ She threatened him with a sponge-bag. ‘Filth! Noise! Insanity! Violence! Hate! Heat! Fear! Disease! Crime! I bloody gave it my chance.’
‘But I –’
Someone pounded on a wall.
‘Now it’s all yours.
You
take Manhattan.
You
go to all the cockroach parties.
You
wallow in the filth. Not me.’
‘I have to stay till Monday. Jonah’s fixed this lunch with an editor.’
‘For
you
. No reason for me to hang about. I’m off.’
Even then, he had not despaired. Was this not America? New York, New York? Anything could happen.
Doodlebug
could become a film, a television mini-series, an audio cassette, a video cassette, a cartoon, an arcade game, comics, sets of plastic toys. All he had to do was fight the insect heads of Aldebaran … and … hang … on …
Still hanging on in Minneapolis, he opened his jammed letter-box. A heap of mail to carry into his brown room and dump on the rickety card-table.
But when he sorted through it he found no real mail at all. There was a sample of blueberry mouthwash and an offer of apartment liability insurance (‘Joe McGee had no idea his doorbell was dangerous, until it gave a visitor a
fatal heart attack
. The court awarded damages of THIRTY MILLION DOLLARS, and Joe was wiped out. The unknown can happen to anyone. Ask yourself if the risk is really worth taking …’). There was a letter from his Congressman, printed in blue. There were two envelopes marked URGENT, which turned out to be circulars from local hardware stores. He examined everything before chucking it, even:
We salute you, Manfred E. Jones, YOU MAY
ALREADY HAVE WON FIVE MILLION DOLLARS!
Dear Manfred E. Jones,
Americans are holding their breath for this one. Yes, FIVE MILLION DOLLARS has already been reserved for you!!!
On the special order entry form are your LUCKY PRIZE NUMBERS. Detach the gold balloon sticker saying YES, I WANT TO WIN FIVE MILLION DOLLARS, affix it to your order entry form, and send it to me – Truman Buckstone. You don’t have to begin a subscription to the Cassette Encyclopedia of World Ethics to win. Your FIVE MILLION DOLLARS is waiting. Manfred E. Jones of Mpls, MN, replying to this letter could be the luckiest thing you ever did!
But you must beat the deadline! Hurry! Don’t let the FIVE MILLION DOLLARS go to an alternative winner!!
A fake cheque was enclosed. There was always something for nothing. Why was it, sitting here in his brown bedsitter with its
‘Just tell me what I am doing in this fucking place,’ she said.
Waiting for the bus, a short distance from the Metropolitan Museum, they were mugged. A tall black man quietly took hold of Susan’s elbow and pressed a knife against her throat. He kept his thumb over the blade so the gesture looked like a caress. Another man held Fred’s elbow and said: ‘Just move real easy and natural and pass me your billfold.’ When he had done so, the man said: ‘OK. Now, real natural, open the lady’s purse and pass me her billfold.’
A bus rolled up. When the bus-driver saw that a robbery was in progress, he hurriedly closed the door and drove off.
Susan commented on this later that night, as she packed.
‘I’m doing just what that bus-driver had the sense to do – clearing out. There are no humans left in this town, only insects. The humans left long ago.’
‘I know, I know. All the same, you can’t just walk out on me.
‘I can and do,’ she said. ‘This city is a cesspit. No wonder the cockroaches feel at home. You can stay here in the cockroach motel as long as you like. Check in and don’t bother checking out.’
‘But give it a chance –’
‘I gave it a chance. I let you convince me we’d see Gene Kelly dancing in the streets or something.’
‘That’s Paris,’ he murmured.
‘All right, then, Robert De Niro and Liza Minnelli riding on a milk-float in the wee small hours. Woody Allen and what’s-her-name, strolling in the mist. So I gave it my chance. I bloody gave it my chance.’ She threatened him with a sponge-bag. ‘Filth! Noise! Insanity! Violence! Hate! Heat! Fear! Disease! Crime! I bloody gave it my chance.’
‘But I –’
Someone pounded on a wall.
‘Now it’s all yours.
You
take Manhattan.
You
go to all the cockroach parties.
You
wallow in the filth. Not me.’
‘I have to stay till Monday. Jonah’s fixed this lunch with an editor.’
‘For
you
. No reason for me to hang about. I’m off.’
Even then, he had not despaired. Was this not America? New York, New York? Anything could happen.
Doodlebug
could become a film, a television mini-series, an audio cassette, a video cassette, a cartoon, an arcade game, comics, sets of plastic toys. All he had to do was fight the insect heads of Aldebaran … and … hang … on …
Still hanging on in Minneapolis, he opened his jammed letter-box. A heap of mail to carry into his brown room and dump on the rickety card-table.
But when he sorted through it he found no real mail at all. There was a sample of blueberry mouthwash and an offer of apartment liability insurance (‘Joe McGee had no idea his doorbell was dangerous, until it gave a visitor a
fatal heart attack
. The court awarded damages of THIRTY MILLION DOLLARS, and Joe was wiped out. The unknown can happen to anyone. Ask yourself if the risk is really worth taking …’). There was a letter from his Congressman, printed in blue. There were two envelopes marked URGENT, which turned out to be circulars from local hardware stores. He examined everything before chucking it, even:
We salute you, Manfred E. Jones, YOU MAY
ALREADY HAVE WON FIVE MILLION DOLLARS!
Dear Manfred E. Jones,
Americans are holding their breath for this one. Yes, FIVE MILLION DOLLARS has already been reserved for you!!!
On the special order entry form are your LUCKY PRIZE NUMBERS. Detach the gold balloon sticker saying YES, I WANT TO WIN FIVE MILLION DOLLARS, affix it to your order entry form, and send it to me – Truman Buckstone. You don’t have to begin a subscription to the Cassette Encyclopedia of World Ethics to win. Your FIVE MILLION DOLLARS is waiting. Manfred E. Jones of Mpls, MN, replying to this letter could be the luckiest thing you ever did!
But you must beat the deadline! Hurry! Don’t let the FIVE MILLION DOLLARS go to an alternative winner!!
A fake cheque was enclosed. There was always something for nothing. Why was it, sitting here in his brown bedsitter with its
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