Read Online I spit on your graves by 1920-1959 Boris Vian - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: 1920-1959 Boris Vian
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block on Stephen Street."
"It's over there, isn't it?" I asked, pointing vaguely in the direction of the western end of town.
"Yeah,- you know where it is?"
"There's lots of things I know," I told him. "Hold tight, I'm taking off."
The Packard was a joy to drive. Dex didn't think much of it and would rather have had his old-man's Cadillac. But compared to my Nash, it was a honey.
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Boris Vian
"The place we're going to is right on Stephen Street?"
"Near by," Dex said.
In spite of the heavy drinking we'd been doing he looked pretty sober. You could hardly tell he'd had anything.
We ended up right in the middle of the rundown part of town. Stephen Street started out all right, but after about number 200 or so we ran into some chap boarding houses, then some one-story shacks, looking more miserable the farther we went. When we reached 1300, they looked as though they could hardly keep standing. There were some old jalopies parked about, mostly model T Fords. I stopped Dex's car where he told me to.
"Come on, Lee," he said. "We'll do a stretch on foot."
He locked the car and we started out. He turned down a side street and we covered a couple of hundred feet. There were scraggly trees and tumble-down fences about. Dex stopped in front of a two-story structure, the top half of which was made of rough boards. The iron fence, surrounding a mass of debris which constituted the garden was miraculously in fairly good condition. He went in without ringing. It was almost dark already and peculiar shadows gave an eerie aspect to
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I Spit on Your Graves
the place.
"Come on, Lee," he said. "This is it."
"I'm coming."
There was a rosebush in front of the house, just one, but its perfume was enough to mitigate the unpleasantness of the garbage that was lying about on all sides. Dex hopped up the two steps leading into the house on the side. A fat colored woman answered when he rang. She turned around without a word and Dex followed. I shut the door behind me.
On the first floor she stood aside to let us pass. We went into a little room with a couch, a bottle and a couple of glasses, and two little girls about eleven or twelve years old. One of them was a red-head, chubby and very freckled. The other a colored girl, a little . older than the other, it seemed to me.
They were sitting very properly on the couch, both dressed in a blouse and a very short skirt.
"Here are some gentlemen who will give you some money," said the colored woman. "Be very nice to them."
She shut the door, leaving us alone. I looked at Dexter.
"Take your clothes off, Lee," he said, "it's very hot in here."
He turned to the red-head.
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Boris Vian
"Come and help me, Jo."
"My name's Polly," the child said. "Are you going to give me some dollars?"
"Sure, sure," Dex said.
He took a crumpled ten out of his pocket and gave it to the girl.
"Come and help me take my pants off."
I hadn't even moved. I watched the red-head get up. She must have been a little bit over twelve years old. Her can was nicely rounded under her too short skirt. I knew that Dex was looking at me.
"I'll take the red-head," he said.
"You know that they're jail bait, don't you?"
"Maybe it's the dark meat that's bothering you!" he said harshly.
So that's what he was driving at. He was still looking at me, with his damn lock of hair hanging down over his eye. He was just waiting for me to say or do something. I think I didn't show anything. The two kids just sat there, a bit terrified.
"Come on, Polly," Dex finally said. "How about a little drink."
"No please, thank you,' she said. "I can help you without drinking."
In less than a minute he had his clothes off and had taken the child on his knees and
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I Spit on Your Graves
lifted up her skirt. His face had become flushed, and he was breathing harder.
"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" she said.
"You keep quiet," Dexter repHed, "Or you don't get any money."
He pushed his hands between her legs and
"It's over there, isn't it?" I asked, pointing vaguely in the direction of the western end of town.
"Yeah,- you know where it is?"
"There's lots of things I know," I told him. "Hold tight, I'm taking off."
The Packard was a joy to drive. Dex didn't think much of it and would rather have had his old-man's Cadillac. But compared to my Nash, it was a honey.
-11-
Boris Vian
"The place we're going to is right on Stephen Street?"
"Near by," Dex said.
In spite of the heavy drinking we'd been doing he looked pretty sober. You could hardly tell he'd had anything.
We ended up right in the middle of the rundown part of town. Stephen Street started out all right, but after about number 200 or so we ran into some chap boarding houses, then some one-story shacks, looking more miserable the farther we went. When we reached 1300, they looked as though they could hardly keep standing. There were some old jalopies parked about, mostly model T Fords. I stopped Dex's car where he told me to.
"Come on, Lee," he said. "We'll do a stretch on foot."
He locked the car and we started out. He turned down a side street and we covered a couple of hundred feet. There were scraggly trees and tumble-down fences about. Dex stopped in front of a two-story structure, the top half of which was made of rough boards. The iron fence, surrounding a mass of debris which constituted the garden was miraculously in fairly good condition. He went in without ringing. It was almost dark already and peculiar shadows gave an eerie aspect to
-78-
I Spit on Your Graves
the place.
"Come on, Lee," he said. "This is it."
"I'm coming."
There was a rosebush in front of the house, just one, but its perfume was enough to mitigate the unpleasantness of the garbage that was lying about on all sides. Dex hopped up the two steps leading into the house on the side. A fat colored woman answered when he rang. She turned around without a word and Dex followed. I shut the door behind me.
On the first floor she stood aside to let us pass. We went into a little room with a couch, a bottle and a couple of glasses, and two little girls about eleven or twelve years old. One of them was a red-head, chubby and very freckled. The other a colored girl, a little . older than the other, it seemed to me.
They were sitting very properly on the couch, both dressed in a blouse and a very short skirt.
"Here are some gentlemen who will give you some money," said the colored woman. "Be very nice to them."
She shut the door, leaving us alone. I looked at Dexter.
"Take your clothes off, Lee," he said, "it's very hot in here."
He turned to the red-head.
-79-
Boris Vian
"Come and help me, Jo."
"My name's Polly," the child said. "Are you going to give me some dollars?"
"Sure, sure," Dex said.
He took a crumpled ten out of his pocket and gave it to the girl.
"Come and help me take my pants off."
I hadn't even moved. I watched the red-head get up. She must have been a little bit over twelve years old. Her can was nicely rounded under her too short skirt. I knew that Dex was looking at me.
"I'll take the red-head," he said.
"You know that they're jail bait, don't you?"
"Maybe it's the dark meat that's bothering you!" he said harshly.
So that's what he was driving at. He was still looking at me, with his damn lock of hair hanging down over his eye. He was just waiting for me to say or do something. I think I didn't show anything. The two kids just sat there, a bit terrified.
"Come on, Polly," Dex finally said. "How about a little drink."
"No please, thank you,' she said. "I can help you without drinking."
In less than a minute he had his clothes off and had taken the child on his knees and
-80-
I Spit on Your Graves
lifted up her skirt. His face had become flushed, and he was breathing harder.
"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" she said.
"You keep quiet," Dexter repHed, "Or you don't get any money."
He pushed his hands between her legs and
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