Read Online Requiem for a Dream by Hubert Selby Jr. - Free Book Online Page B

himself to attention, smiled, and spread his arms out to
hide his crouching lady friend of the emptying bladder. Harry and
Marion adroitly, though sleepily, avoided the stream and stepped over
it with aplomb and Harry smiled at the guy, Your old ladys a pisser
man, and then laughed, and he and Marion continued down the street
and the guy watched them for many seconds and then an emergency bell
went off in his head as he felt his body lurch to one side and he
tried to resist and maintain his balance, but lost the valiant but
short battle and found himself floating in the air toward the rapids
below, Hey, what the fuck ya doin ya crazy—and he hit the surface
of the stream with a splat and floundered around, HELP! HELP1 while
his lady friend lay sprawled on her back continuing to sigh,
ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, and to add volume and speed to the rivers flow as her
defender and companion of the evening splattered and splashed, I CANT
SWIM, I CANT SWIM, and finally through grim determination and pure
grit reached shallow ground and pulled himself ashore and knelt, with
his head hanging, catching his breath as his lady of the evening
rolled over with another long sigh and curled up in a fetal position
and went to sleep in the sheltering bushes of the rivers headwaters.
Harry was chuckling and shaking his head, Juice heads are too much,
aren't they? They really have no class, no class at all.
    He and Marion continued along the streets aware of
the dryness in their throats and a yearning in their stomachs. They
stopped in an all night diner and got a piece of pie with a couple of
scoops of ice cream, chocolate and strawberry syrup and whipped
cream, with an egg cream on the side. Marion paid the check and they
continued to her place. They sat around the kitchen table and Marion
lit a joint. Harry suddenly started to chuckle, That broad was
somethin else. That guy needed a canoe. Marion passed the joint to
Harry, then slowly let the smoke out. They should have pissoirs on
the streets. Then she wouldn't have to degrade herself just to
urinate. Men can go in an alley or behind a parked car and its
perfectly acceptable, but if a woman does it shes ridiculed. Thats
what I loved about Europe, theyre civilized. Harry tilted his head as
he looked at her and listened then half smiled and half smirked as he
passed the joint back to her, I dont know if youre talkin to your
shrink or a judge. There was still a little bit of the joint left and
she offered it to Harry and he shook his head so she carefully put it
out and placed it on the edge of the ashtray. Well, doesnt the whole
thing stink? I mean its utterly ridiculous. Women arent supposed to
piss or shit or fart or smell or enjoy getting laid— excuse me, I
mean having sex. Hey baby, Im innocent, okay? Remember me? I didn't
say a word. Thats okay, I need to practice on someone. Well, go
practice on your shrink. He gets paid for it. She smiled, Not
anymore. You cutim loose? Not exactly. Im seeing him, but not as a
patient. Harry laughed, You ballin him too? Occasionally. As the mood
hits me. My folks ask me if Im still seeing him and I tell them yes
so they keep giving me the fifty dollars a week for him.

Marion laughed loud and long, And I dont even have to
lie to the clods. Werent you ballin your last shrink too? Yeah, but
that got a little tacky. He stopped writing for me and wanted to
leave his wife and straighten me out. . . you know, a real
chauvinist. This guy is different. I see him once in a while and we
have fun and theres no pressure. We just have a good time. And he
still writes for tranks and downers. A couple of weeks ago we flew
down to the Virgin Islands for a weekend. It was a ball. Hey, crazy.
Sounds great. Yeah. So your folks are still footin the bills, tilting
his head toward the rest of the apartment, for the pad and so forth?
Yeah. She laughed out loud again, Plus the fifty a week for the
shrink. And sometimes I do a little freelance editing for a few
publishers. And the rest