Jeannie Nitro. She was standing by my potted plant.
“Hello, Belane,” she said.
“Hello, Belane,” said the Jeannie Nitro sitting in the chair.
“Hey,” I said, “can you be in two bodies at the same time?”
“No,” said the Jeannie Nitro sitting in the chair. “But,” said the Jeannie Nitro standing by the potted plant, “we can leap from one body to another.”
I climbed out of bed to pick up my glass and pour another vodka.
“You sleep in your shorts,” said one Jeannie Nitro.
“Disgusting,” said the other.
I got back into bed with my drink and propped myself up against a pillow.
There was another sound of buzzing, a flash of purple light and the Jeannie by the potted plant was gone. I looked at the one in the chair.
“Look,” I said, “Grovers hired me to get you off his ass and that’s just what I intend to do.”
“You talk big for a man whose talents hover near the zero mark.”
“Yeah? Well, I’ve cracked tougher cases than yours!”
“Really? Tell me about one of them.”
“All my back files are confidential.”
“Confidential or non-existent?”
“Don’t get me pissed, Jeannie or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll…” I lifted the vodka toward my mouth. Suddenly my hand froze two inches from my lips. I couldn’t move.
“You’re 3rd rate, Belane. Don’t play with me. And I’m being kind now. Feel lucky.”
Feel lucky? That was the second time I had heard that within 12 hours.
There was the buzz, the flash of purple and Jeannie Nitro was gone.
I sat there in bed, unable to move, the glass still two inches from my lips. I sat and waited. I had time to muse over my career. There wasn’t much to muse about. Maybe I was in the wrong profession.
But it was too late to start anything else.
I just sat there and waited. In about ten minutes there was a tingling all over my body. I was able to move my hand just a little.
Then a little more. I put the vodka to my lips, managed to tilt my head and I drained the glass. I tossed it to the floor, stretched out in bed and waited once more for sleep. I heard the sound of gunfire outside and realized that everything was all right with the world.
In five minutes I was asleep along with everybody else.
22
I awakened depressed. I looked up at the ceiling, at the cracks in the ceiling. I saw a buffalo running over something. I think it was me.
Then I saw a snake with a rabbit in his mouth. The sun came through the rips in the shade and formed a swastika on my belly. My bung-hole itched. Were my hemorrhoids coming back? My neck was stiff and my mouth tasted like sour milk.
I got up and walked to the bathroom. I hated to look in that mirror but I did. And I saw depression and defeat. Sagging dark pouches under the eyes. Little cowardly eyes, the eyes of a rodent trapped by the frigging cat. My flesh looked like it wasn’t trying. It looked like it hated being part of me. My eyebrows hung down, twisted, they looked as if they were demented, demented eyebrow hairs.
Horrible. I looked disgusting. And I wasn’t even ready for a bowel movement. I was all plugged up. I walked over to the toilet to piss.
I aimed properly but somehow it came out sideways and splashed on the floor. I tried to re-aim and pissed all over the toilet seat which I had forgotten to lift. I ripped off some toilet paper and mopped up. Cleaned the seat. Tossed the paper into the can and flushed. I walked to the window and looked out and saw a cat shit on the roof next door. Then I turned back, found my toothbrush, squeezed the tube. Too much came out.
It flopped wearily against my brush and fell into the sink. It was green. It was like a green worm. I stuck my finger into it, stuck some of it on the brush and began brushing. Teeth. What goddamned things they were. We had to eat. And eat and eat again. We were all disgusting, doomed to our dirty little tasks. Eating and farting and scratching and smiling and celebrating holidays.
I finished
“Hello, Belane,” she said.
“Hello, Belane,” said the Jeannie Nitro sitting in the chair.
“Hey,” I said, “can you be in two bodies at the same time?”
“No,” said the Jeannie Nitro sitting in the chair. “But,” said the Jeannie Nitro standing by the potted plant, “we can leap from one body to another.”
I climbed out of bed to pick up my glass and pour another vodka.
“You sleep in your shorts,” said one Jeannie Nitro.
“Disgusting,” said the other.
I got back into bed with my drink and propped myself up against a pillow.
There was another sound of buzzing, a flash of purple light and the Jeannie by the potted plant was gone. I looked at the one in the chair.
“Look,” I said, “Grovers hired me to get you off his ass and that’s just what I intend to do.”
“You talk big for a man whose talents hover near the zero mark.”
“Yeah? Well, I’ve cracked tougher cases than yours!”
“Really? Tell me about one of them.”
“All my back files are confidential.”
“Confidential or non-existent?”
“Don’t get me pissed, Jeannie or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll…” I lifted the vodka toward my mouth. Suddenly my hand froze two inches from my lips. I couldn’t move.
“You’re 3rd rate, Belane. Don’t play with me. And I’m being kind now. Feel lucky.”
Feel lucky? That was the second time I had heard that within 12 hours.
There was the buzz, the flash of purple and Jeannie Nitro was gone.
I sat there in bed, unable to move, the glass still two inches from my lips. I sat and waited. I had time to muse over my career. There wasn’t much to muse about. Maybe I was in the wrong profession.
But it was too late to start anything else.
I just sat there and waited. In about ten minutes there was a tingling all over my body. I was able to move my hand just a little.
Then a little more. I put the vodka to my lips, managed to tilt my head and I drained the glass. I tossed it to the floor, stretched out in bed and waited once more for sleep. I heard the sound of gunfire outside and realized that everything was all right with the world.
In five minutes I was asleep along with everybody else.
22
I awakened depressed. I looked up at the ceiling, at the cracks in the ceiling. I saw a buffalo running over something. I think it was me.
Then I saw a snake with a rabbit in his mouth. The sun came through the rips in the shade and formed a swastika on my belly. My bung-hole itched. Were my hemorrhoids coming back? My neck was stiff and my mouth tasted like sour milk.
I got up and walked to the bathroom. I hated to look in that mirror but I did. And I saw depression and defeat. Sagging dark pouches under the eyes. Little cowardly eyes, the eyes of a rodent trapped by the frigging cat. My flesh looked like it wasn’t trying. It looked like it hated being part of me. My eyebrows hung down, twisted, they looked as if they were demented, demented eyebrow hairs.
Horrible. I looked disgusting. And I wasn’t even ready for a bowel movement. I was all plugged up. I walked over to the toilet to piss.
I aimed properly but somehow it came out sideways and splashed on the floor. I tried to re-aim and pissed all over the toilet seat which I had forgotten to lift. I ripped off some toilet paper and mopped up. Cleaned the seat. Tossed the paper into the can and flushed. I walked to the window and looked out and saw a cat shit on the roof next door. Then I turned back, found my toothbrush, squeezed the tube. Too much came out.
It flopped wearily against my brush and fell into the sink. It was green. It was like a green worm. I stuck my finger into it, stuck some of it on the brush and began brushing. Teeth. What goddamned things they were. We had to eat. And eat and eat again. We were all disgusting, doomed to our dirty little tasks. Eating and farting and scratching and smiling and celebrating holidays.
I finished
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