Read Online The Bible Salesman by Clyde Edgerton - Free Book Online
Authors: Clyde Edgerton
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house this voice said,
‘I’m
a-coming,’ and she went back in and this big, tall man followed her in the door. He had long hair, and long fingernails, and long teeth. So the old woman says, ‘Why you got those long fingernails?’ and he said, ‘To dig graves with.’ And she said, ‘Why you got that long hair?’ and he said, ‘To lay graves with.’ So then she said, ‘Why you got those long teeth?’ ”
Henry’s head leaned forward.
“To EAT YOU UP!”
Henry jumped, grinned. “Tell it again.”
Henry stood on the stool at the woodstove. Uncle Jack handed him the salt shaker to sprinkle the two rabbits, each split down the middle, lying on a big piece of wax paper. In the big black frying pan, bacon grease was beginning to fizzle.
“Okay, I’m going to just drop them in there. Good. Now. We’ll just wait till they’re done, and then we can dress them up fancy. You can sit at the table now.”
Uncle Jack cut open a lemon with the sharp kitchen knife.
When the rabbits were done on one side he turned them over with a fork, and then when they were done on that side he forked them to a plate and placed them in front of Henry at the table. “Now. We got all our stuff ready here. Get you a handful of them crushed pecans and sprinkle them on. Good. Now I’ll pour this lemon juice in the frying pan, and let’s let it heat for about a minute. Okay. Now. We stir it good. There you go. This is going to be good. Okay, I’m going to pour this over the rabbit, and we got a little scraped lemon peel I’m going to sprinkle on, then these real thin lemon slices. Now, don’t that look good?
“Dorie. Dorie, come and get it. Come look what me and Henry cooked.”
1939
T hree colored women dressed in white uniforms sat in the back of the trolley. Most of the other people were dressed up. Aunt Ruth, who was small, had let Caroline dress up in one of her dresses. Henry wore his coat and tie, and Aunt Dorie wore a Sunday dress. The trolley was so full that Henry sat in Dorie’s lap.
“Is it like the museum in Raleigh?” Dorie asked Jack.
“Not exactly. You’ll see.”
“I’m just not sure about this.” Somebody had loaned him a white jacket cut off at the waist. He was up to one of his schemes. The jacket and a little card he’d gotten from somewhere could get them all into the Electra — a special building that sometimes admitted only club members or high-priced ticket buyers. Jack was dressed as a cook, or waiter, a helper of some sort.
A low bridge crossed the channel, only wide enough for the trolley tracks, and Henry looked out at the water and boats. Tall masts with white sails and shiny wooden motorboats moved about. When the motorboats went fast, water slashed up from both sides in front.
“They might not ever open it up to cars,” said Jack. “They’re going to keep it special. And don’t y’all be ashamed. We’re as good as any of these people.”
When they stepped down the trolley steps on Swan Island they were standing in a small station like the one they’d just left. The station was across the street from the house of the famous Papa John McNeill, the founder of McNeill, the town back across the channel. They could trolley around the island, but walking was cheaper.
They’d driven down in the truck that day, about an hour’s drive, from Simmons to McNeill, then over on the trolley to Swan Island to see a building that would be all lit up with electricity, and to hear a big band that would play inside. It was a famous place, Uncle Jack said. Henry thought he’d be able to see water surrounding the island, but standing in the trolley station he couldn’t see water anywhere. Jack asked a man in a uniform for directions. The man told them about five blocks and pointed. As they walked, Henry looked on the ground for wooden play blocks. After a while, he stared at the biggest building besides a city building he’d ever seen. It was three levels high, each of the top two levels a
‘I’m
a-coming,’ and she went back in and this big, tall man followed her in the door. He had long hair, and long fingernails, and long teeth. So the old woman says, ‘Why you got those long fingernails?’ and he said, ‘To dig graves with.’ And she said, ‘Why you got that long hair?’ and he said, ‘To lay graves with.’ So then she said, ‘Why you got those long teeth?’ ”
Henry’s head leaned forward.
“To EAT YOU UP!”
Henry jumped, grinned. “Tell it again.”
Henry stood on the stool at the woodstove. Uncle Jack handed him the salt shaker to sprinkle the two rabbits, each split down the middle, lying on a big piece of wax paper. In the big black frying pan, bacon grease was beginning to fizzle.
“Okay, I’m going to just drop them in there. Good. Now. We’ll just wait till they’re done, and then we can dress them up fancy. You can sit at the table now.”
Uncle Jack cut open a lemon with the sharp kitchen knife.
When the rabbits were done on one side he turned them over with a fork, and then when they were done on that side he forked them to a plate and placed them in front of Henry at the table. “Now. We got all our stuff ready here. Get you a handful of them crushed pecans and sprinkle them on. Good. Now I’ll pour this lemon juice in the frying pan, and let’s let it heat for about a minute. Okay. Now. We stir it good. There you go. This is going to be good. Okay, I’m going to pour this over the rabbit, and we got a little scraped lemon peel I’m going to sprinkle on, then these real thin lemon slices. Now, don’t that look good?
“Dorie. Dorie, come and get it. Come look what me and Henry cooked.”
1939
T hree colored women dressed in white uniforms sat in the back of the trolley. Most of the other people were dressed up. Aunt Ruth, who was small, had let Caroline dress up in one of her dresses. Henry wore his coat and tie, and Aunt Dorie wore a Sunday dress. The trolley was so full that Henry sat in Dorie’s lap.
“Is it like the museum in Raleigh?” Dorie asked Jack.
“Not exactly. You’ll see.”
“I’m just not sure about this.” Somebody had loaned him a white jacket cut off at the waist. He was up to one of his schemes. The jacket and a little card he’d gotten from somewhere could get them all into the Electra — a special building that sometimes admitted only club members or high-priced ticket buyers. Jack was dressed as a cook, or waiter, a helper of some sort.
A low bridge crossed the channel, only wide enough for the trolley tracks, and Henry looked out at the water and boats. Tall masts with white sails and shiny wooden motorboats moved about. When the motorboats went fast, water slashed up from both sides in front.
“They might not ever open it up to cars,” said Jack. “They’re going to keep it special. And don’t y’all be ashamed. We’re as good as any of these people.”
When they stepped down the trolley steps on Swan Island they were standing in a small station like the one they’d just left. The station was across the street from the house of the famous Papa John McNeill, the founder of McNeill, the town back across the channel. They could trolley around the island, but walking was cheaper.
They’d driven down in the truck that day, about an hour’s drive, from Simmons to McNeill, then over on the trolley to Swan Island to see a building that would be all lit up with electricity, and to hear a big band that would play inside. It was a famous place, Uncle Jack said. Henry thought he’d be able to see water surrounding the island, but standing in the trolley station he couldn’t see water anywhere. Jack asked a man in a uniform for directions. The man told them about five blocks and pointed. As they walked, Henry looked on the ground for wooden play blocks. After a while, he stared at the biggest building besides a city building he’d ever seen. It was three levels high, each of the top two levels a
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