Read Online Cast the First Stone by Chester Himes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chester Himes
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morning.”
The voice didn’t say anything else so he sat down. There was a slab of steel projecting from the back wall for a bed. It was very cold and the cold came quickly up through my overalls. Glass said there were some blankets in the cell. We felt around on the bench and on the floor without finding them. Then we got down on our hands and knees and groped around on the floor. I knocked into something that rattled. I jumped back as if I’d touched a rattlesnake and knocked into Glass.
“What the hell’s that?” I asked, shakily.
“That’s your bucket,” Glass said.
“Bucket? Water bucket?”
Glass laughed. The other fellow giggled. I began smelling the stink. I’d knocked the top off. I fumbled around and found it and put it back on. “We all use the same bucket?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Don’t they ever wash it out?”
“Sure, one of us will have to wash it out in the morning.”
“I hope it ain’t me,” I said.
Finally Glass found the blankets stuffed back into a corner. “Here they are,” he said.
There were two pieces which must have been one blanket torn in half and another piece, no larger than a face towel. They felt very grimy to touch. We sat on the bench and wrapped up in them as best we could. Glass took the smallest piece. He said he would sit in the middle and we could sit close to him and keep warm.
“Damn right,” I laughed. “Hot as you are.” After awhile we began to warm each other.
“Twenty years. Jesus Christ. You must have stuck up a bank, Jimmy,” Glass commented.
“No, just some people.”
“Fat Funky fink!” the voice yelled from the other side. “I bet you got a fat mama.”
“Dirty screwball,” Glass muttered to himself. “Aw, let him alone,” I said. We were silent for awhile. “I’m cold,” I said.
Wilkerson hadn’t said anything at all. “I’m hot,” Glass said. “I’ll put my arm around you and that’ll keep you warm.”
I had my half-a-blanket wrapped about my shoulders but it wasn’t long enough to cover up my front. I held it together at my throat. “Never mind,” I said. “I’ll get warm in a minute.”
Then Wilkerson said, “Put your arm around me, Ben.” After a time the bedbugs began to bite. I didn’t know bedbugs could live in that much cold but they certainly worked on me. They bit me all over. I began scratching and moving about. The bench began to hurt the end of my spine. I was cold and itching and thoroughly miserable.
“I want a fire!” the voice yelled from the other side. It sounded hollow and metallic as if the fellow was standing at the back of his cell. “I want something to eat!”
After a time I heard the sticks banging outside. I could just barely hear them. “Damn!” I whispered. It was just bedtime.
I tried to go to sleep. I said to myself if I sit in one position and keep my eyes closed I’ll go to sleep. I’m tired, I’ll go to sleep. I’m tired, I’ll go to sleep. I’m tired, I’ll go to sleep…I sat perfectly still. A bedbug bit me. Something crawled over my bare leg. My neck and throat and legs itched intolerably. I itched all over. And then a trickle of pain crept into my body. It began at the base of my spine. It flowed down my legs, up my back. I’ll be asleep in a minute, I said. And then it came in a rush. The pain and the itching and the biting and the cold. “Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn,” I sobbed. “Take it easy, Jimmy,” Glass said. “I’ll take it easy,” I said.
“We’re lucky they didn’t put us in strait jackets,” he said.
I heard the distant scream of a locomotive whistle. I could imagine the long line of coaches, gliding through the night, with its chain of yellow-lighted windows filled with people, going somewhere, going anywhere.
“Damned if I’m lucky,” I said.
That was the longest night I spent in prison. In the morning the deputy asked me if I was ready to go back to work. I said, “Yes, sir.” He sent me back to the coal company.
The voice didn’t say anything else so he sat down. There was a slab of steel projecting from the back wall for a bed. It was very cold and the cold came quickly up through my overalls. Glass said there were some blankets in the cell. We felt around on the bench and on the floor without finding them. Then we got down on our hands and knees and groped around on the floor. I knocked into something that rattled. I jumped back as if I’d touched a rattlesnake and knocked into Glass.
“What the hell’s that?” I asked, shakily.
“That’s your bucket,” Glass said.
“Bucket? Water bucket?”
Glass laughed. The other fellow giggled. I began smelling the stink. I’d knocked the top off. I fumbled around and found it and put it back on. “We all use the same bucket?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Don’t they ever wash it out?”
“Sure, one of us will have to wash it out in the morning.”
“I hope it ain’t me,” I said.
Finally Glass found the blankets stuffed back into a corner. “Here they are,” he said.
There were two pieces which must have been one blanket torn in half and another piece, no larger than a face towel. They felt very grimy to touch. We sat on the bench and wrapped up in them as best we could. Glass took the smallest piece. He said he would sit in the middle and we could sit close to him and keep warm.
“Damn right,” I laughed. “Hot as you are.” After awhile we began to warm each other.
“Twenty years. Jesus Christ. You must have stuck up a bank, Jimmy,” Glass commented.
“No, just some people.”
“Fat Funky fink!” the voice yelled from the other side. “I bet you got a fat mama.”
“Dirty screwball,” Glass muttered to himself. “Aw, let him alone,” I said. We were silent for awhile. “I’m cold,” I said.
Wilkerson hadn’t said anything at all. “I’m hot,” Glass said. “I’ll put my arm around you and that’ll keep you warm.”
I had my half-a-blanket wrapped about my shoulders but it wasn’t long enough to cover up my front. I held it together at my throat. “Never mind,” I said. “I’ll get warm in a minute.”
Then Wilkerson said, “Put your arm around me, Ben.” After a time the bedbugs began to bite. I didn’t know bedbugs could live in that much cold but they certainly worked on me. They bit me all over. I began scratching and moving about. The bench began to hurt the end of my spine. I was cold and itching and thoroughly miserable.
“I want a fire!” the voice yelled from the other side. It sounded hollow and metallic as if the fellow was standing at the back of his cell. “I want something to eat!”
After a time I heard the sticks banging outside. I could just barely hear them. “Damn!” I whispered. It was just bedtime.
I tried to go to sleep. I said to myself if I sit in one position and keep my eyes closed I’ll go to sleep. I’m tired, I’ll go to sleep. I’m tired, I’ll go to sleep. I’m tired, I’ll go to sleep…I sat perfectly still. A bedbug bit me. Something crawled over my bare leg. My neck and throat and legs itched intolerably. I itched all over. And then a trickle of pain crept into my body. It began at the base of my spine. It flowed down my legs, up my back. I’ll be asleep in a minute, I said. And then it came in a rush. The pain and the itching and the biting and the cold. “Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn,” I sobbed. “Take it easy, Jimmy,” Glass said. “I’ll take it easy,” I said.
“We’re lucky they didn’t put us in strait jackets,” he said.
I heard the distant scream of a locomotive whistle. I could imagine the long line of coaches, gliding through the night, with its chain of yellow-lighted windows filled with people, going somewhere, going anywhere.
“Damned if I’m lucky,” I said.
That was the longest night I spent in prison. In the morning the deputy asked me if I was ready to go back to work. I said, “Yes, sir.” He sent me back to the coal company.
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