…oncet I knowed a feller what went around impersonating General Custer…got hisself scalped at a Methodist camp meeting…
Monroe D. Underwood
By Friday morning my hangover was almost gone.
I drove to the Elmwood Park Post Office and picked up my pay.
From there I went to Wallace’s.
Old Dad Underwood was dozing in a booth.
Wallace was studying him with bloodshot eyes.
Wallace glanced at me.
He said do you know that just looking at him gives me a terrible headache?
I said I thought it was the air pollution and them Sox.
Old Dad Underwood stirred.
He yawned and opened one eye.
He gave Wallace a dirty look.
He said you wouldn’t know a headache from a ingrown toenail.
Wallace said maybe not but I know a pain in the ass when I see one.
Old Dad Underwood said well you got to admit that I am one pain in the ass what ain’t never got raped yet.
Wallace gnawed on his raw knuckles.
He said Chance is that goofy old broad still running around loose?
I shrugged.
I said so far as I know.
Wallace shuddered.
Old Dad Underwood climbed out of the booth and sat beside me.
I bought a round.
I said I don’t suppose you have ever heard of a Nivlek Ysteb.
Old Dad Underwood said oh sure.
He said you was talking about him just the other day.
He said who is Nivlek Ysteb?
I said Nivlek Ysteb is a big-shot Communist.
Old Dad Underwood shook his head.
He said well you sure ain’t going to find no Communists in this neck of the woods.
He said you want to find Communists you got to go down on Armitage Avenue in the thirty-three hunnert block.
He said I ain’t never seen so many Communists.
He said why they got more Communists down there than you can shake a stick at.
I said how do you know?
Old Dad Underwood said oh I come by there every so often.
He said there is Communists all over the goddam place.
I said I mean how do you know they are Communists?
Old Dad Underwood shot me a look.
He said they got long hair that’s how.
I gave a meaningful whistle.
I said oh my God man you should have told me this earlier.
I said this is valuable information.
Old Dad Underwood put a warning hand on my arm.
He said listen boy you better stay out of there if you don’t got long hair.
I said do you have to have long hair to be a Communist?
Old Dad Underwood frowned.
He said well by God that’s the funny part.
He said there is short-haired Communists in Russia.
He said even in China.
He said but not on Armitage Avenue.
He said not in the thirty-three hunnert block.
Wallace drifted over with a couple of beers.
He said when I sell this joint I am going to Newfoundland where I will become a fisherman.
He said when you get out on that there ocean you don’t get but very little air pollution.
He said and no Sox.
Old Dad Underwood said you going to have to watch out for all them there mermaids.
He said good looking feller like you liable to get hisself raped.
The phone rang.
I knew it was Betsy from the way Wallace blushed.
He handed me the phone.
Betsy said come on home.
She said we are going to have a big fish fry.
I said if you had to have a big fish fry you should have waited.
I said Wallace could have given us one hell of a deal.
I said I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes.
I finished my beer.
I drove west to Pulaski Road.
There was a wig shop on the corner.
I bought a long-haired black wig and a drooping black moustache.
I stuffed them into my jacket pocket.
When I got to Betsy’s place Mary Bright was walking Bonzo.
Bonzo leered at me.
Mary Bright waved.
I didn’t stop.
Bonzo sat down and howled as though his poor heart would break.
On my way up the stairs I put on the wig and moustache.
I knocked on Betsy’s door.
When Betsy opened it I hollered down with the imperialistic capitalist whore.
I jumped into the room.
I grabbed Betsy by the throat.