He ducked to Hoppin’ With Flavor! to tip the bottle over the cup — just stop answering the God damned thing call Tom work out some kind of Christ, try to call him there they’ll tell me to call him here… he set the cup down emptied — now. For though, for now the tale how God damned tomato and cheese right down the, wonder how old that pizza is… he got a cheese clot off Wilde with a thumbnail, bit, blew it out — should have brought something in damn it, shoot the pianist just get to the end of this God damned sentence shoot the pianist. For thow, damn it God damn it! His hands went white against his face, drawn down for fingertips to press his eyes, dig at them, fall away to leave them staring — find the God damned typewriter should have done this in the first place… he dragged the case from behind Thomas Register of Manufacturers, squared it on top and snapped it open — retype the whole thing right from, be God damned… he caught the stained manila folder sliding off the keyboard — wondered what the hell happened to this… he opened it and turned a page, sank down on H-O with it and turned another, found a cigarette and brought the enchilada can closer tapping ashes, settling back against Won’t Burn, Smoke or Smell tapping ashes, leaning forward to tip the bottle, back to where the sun streaked down one margin crossing closer to the other with each turning page till it had left them altogether when the peal of the phone brought him up steadied against Hoppin’ With Flavor! — coming God damn it… against 200 2-Ply as he passed it on the fourth ring.
— Yes hello…? Not back yet no goodb… oh it is? Put him on yes thought I forgot his, hello? Thought I forgot your message didn’t you, sonorous torns of hone and kettle… the who…? No no nope boss company president whatever the hell he is not here either hasn’t called no, not a… you what…? Wouldn’t say that Mister Crawley, he prob… no no wouldn’t think he’d do a thing like that good Christ see a fine man like you go under just for a little margin money, company like this one he must hold enough stock to cover any… closed down four points? God damned shame, what’s… They what…? Who filed it Piscat… God damned shame atmosphere of mistrust these days isn’t it, old Piscator files an affidavit accepting service of the summons these lenders go ahead and attach his stock anyhow tell you what it is Crawley whole God damned decline from status to contract what’s wrong with the whole God damned modern… Sounds like to me see them attach his stock to guarantee his court appearance sounds like they’re trying to grab off his company what it sounds like, what’s wrong with the whole God damned country atmosphere of mistrust say incidentally Crawley, don’t happen to be planning a trip to Honduras…? Honduras yes, just happened to think you might bump into him down there, newspaper called says there’s a rumor wait, listen… no no listen… hear a funny nose in this phone? noise…? He held it up and shook it, started unscrewing the mouthpiece — what? Why not sounds like a God damned exciting place Honduras might be thinking of buying it, vastness of the plains the purple hello…? hear me…? Can’t hear me… he had the cover off holding it closer, forcing a nail under a wire, twisting — God damned bug in it… he pulled it out, — hello? screwing the cover back on, — hello Crawley? Bastard hung up…
He tossed the thing ahead of him coming down, steadied against 200 2-Ply to crush it under a heel — whole God damned place probably bugged… the bottle tipped horizontal and he held it up to what light there was — Christ… he raised the cup — what, something move God damn it saw something move up there looked like a… he reached to Won’t Burn, Smoke or Smell to pull himself up — well God damn it! and he was down picking up cigarette lighters, view of the Ghiralda, glue, — God, suppose she… and he steadied against H-O, came down on it — what was I, typed yes get it typed Christ, get something typed… he dragged Thomas Register closer, reached the bottle over, rummaged in Won’t Burn, Smoke or Smell beside him, — now… He hit R.
— your loved ones, open a trust savings ac…
— Get under their God damned signal, here… he emptied the cup, hunched closer, typing — God damned apostrophe hardly see in here… the roller turned, turned again, each time more slowly till he was up abruptly shaking the punctured lampshade, rattling open the battered shopping bag from the sofa as the lamp lighted — knew they eat snails Christ but, catfood…? The lamp went off, came on — chicken parts necks and backs, palmitate, d-activated plant sterol choline chloride pyridoxine better not no where the, where those cigarettes… the lamp went off.
