The preacher wiped the sweat from his brow, eyelids fluttering, then went on talking about the body on the cross, and the next time the guy behind me made a wisecrack, I flew out of my seat and told him: Shut the fuck up! Softly and menacingly … then quick sat back down as the doorman moved from his post … instead of nabbin the cracker behind me though, he latched onto me an dragged me outta the row, it wasn’t me! … I said, but next thing I knew I was on my knees, a twist of the arm was all it took … and the preacher said: My son, you have seen the light, hallelujah, you have seen the light and risen to the defense … he went on jigging around me a while with the doorman holding onto me, and then it was time for soup and tea.
Before I had a chance to get any though, the preacher dragged me into the back an gave me some pamphlet an a stack a holy pictures, still talkin away, but the power was gone … socks, I said … what, my son … socks, if you have any … oh, yes … he knelt down on one knee and took off his shoes, rolled off his socks … handed em to me … I can’t, Father, thanks … but really I can’t … somehow I staggered outta there … in the hall it was still pretty rank … and all the food was eaten. I lifted up the soup lid … cue violins. A couple crumbs left, I swept em up.
Luckily Gramps was waiting outside with the guy I’d gone off on, he let loose: Nice show, boy, that’s what it takes, otherwise he’d never finish, heh heh … improv! They had a few rolls stashed away for me, plus Gramps had a chunk of salami. And a bottle of rum. We headed out to the railyard.
The Blue Army … I was scared of them at first, a uniform’s a uniform, but the railroad guys didn’t give a damn about us. Gramps’d even become a station mascot of sorts. I didn’t make any trouble, even when I was loaded, so sometimes they’d let me sit on the platform. I’d just sit and act like I was waiting for a train. Look around … occasionally I’d doze off. I think I looked normal enough.
On our way out back, ah, Gramps called out full blast, how do you do, lick your lolly? Howdoyoudo was husding through the concourse … leading Drool by the hand. It took me a while to get it. Besides, I didn’t keep track much, content to let it all merge as long as everyone left me in peace.
Drool was a mongoloid. No one knew for sure whether she was Howdo-youdo’s daughter. No one cared either. They were heading out back toward the out-of-service trains.
You wouldn’t believe, Gramps told me once, the cars that stop out there an the fellas drivin em … saw this set a wheels the other day … even remember the license plate, but not a peep to anyone. I don’t want any trouble. They keep an eye on it! We know the top dogs at City Hall, heh, we still got friends! … Maybe what he was saying was just part of the station mythology, everyone here had a story to tell. Everybody was Monte Christo, every thief an ex-millionaire, every junkie blathered on about the golden hit and how they were gonna do it … tomorrow … the junkies were just passing through, they didn’t live here … every lousy washed-up alkie claimed to’ve been some famous actress or singer. Lies and inventions and sob stories … everybody here lived a life of pure fantasy, the day-to-day worries of finding food and warmth and a place to sleep didn’t leave time for anything else, and sometimes it was brutal. Of course … the main thing was to cloud your mind. I wasn’t the only one lost in a fog. Some of those derelicts’ lives were real drudgery … they went on babbling their tall tales and lies because that was all they had. Nobody cared if people believed them … apart from those moments of hungover weeping … and besides it was fun. It made time move.
Drool really did drool. I saw Howdoyoudo Lolly feed her once. Dunking her bread in a cup of milk.
We sat and drank, slowly, so it would last … it was summer, but the air was … different already somehow. I was about to throw away the stuff the preacher had given me … but Gramps yanked the pictures outta my hand, scrawny old scarecrow bawled me out. I let him have em. I sat on a barrel, the others flopped out on ties around the fire: Gramps, the fella from the Mission, some Polish guy. Ondra shuffled up, sat down next to em, acting like he didn’t see me. The conversation flagged. Hey Gramps, I winked at the old man … didn’t you want me to finish tellin that fable about King Krongold? Gramps squirmed … oh yeah, that’s right, you promised … I winked at Ondra, he still had his back to me, but it looked like he’d perked up his ears … Mission Guy grumbled testily, but Gramps gave him a kick … I mixed it up last time, got totally off track … Merlin did mow down that computer army, only, get this, Gramps … there was still one slinger left, the Old Lion’s page, an he was with Krongold too … but what you gotta understand, Gramps, is this kid was sharp … looked sixteen, but he was actually younger … didn’t matter though, because, an this is historically documented … trink! the Polish guy yapped, I passed him the bottle, sposedly he’d chipped in … the kid’d spent his childhood in the orphanages of Genoa, learned all kindsa stuff there … so it didn’t matter that he was small … an not from a computer, he was flesh an blood, so he didn’t feel Merlin’s axe, not even when the troops were fallin left an right … that’s the way it was, an this page, the slinger, was extremely valiant, so as soon as he sees King Krongold’s unconscious … this slinger, who’s called Ondráš, sneaks into the tower an sees … Merlin creeping toward the chamber where the fair Eleanor lies weeping … an he’s got a dagger an his shadow falls across the floor an … errr … errr … the floorboards creak, an Ondráš winds up his sling an bang … pegs Merlin in the eye! Heh! said Gramps. Wait, but that arrow didn’t bother him, said Ondra … that arrow didn’t bother him cause it was computerized, an what Old Man Lion didn’t know … nobody knew! … was that Merlin was a program too! … so programmed arrows couldn’t hurt him, hah … but Ondráš used a real-life stone from the desert … an Merlin was reeling … that was all the slinger needed, quiet as a mouse he raced past Merlin into the chamber an fell into Queen Eleanor’s arms … no, wait! … they, uh, what was it … jou ar all paranoyt, the Pole declared, wrapping himself in a blanket … right, they take the blanket an sheets an start wavin out the window to Krongold, he spies the movement … an comes to his senses! … an he leaps on his noble Arabian charger an gallops forth … meanwhile Merlin … now you know he’s furious … shaken but furious, an he starts tearin the door to shreds with his nails … Ondráš stood, sling at the ready … an Eleanor sank to her knees, extending her snow-white arms: Make haste, my dear, make haste, Krongold … an throwing off his breastplate the king dashed up the stairs … just then, the bedroom door flew open an in came Merlin, pouncing at them with his ghastly claws … but Ondráš was sharp, he’d been expecting it … so he quick let fly, an boom! In the other eye! Merlin lurched into the wall … a second later he was right back at em again … but that second was all it took! Krongold bursts in, sees Merlin, an stabs him! Eleanor faints in his arms. Who is this lad? King Krongold frowned, gesturing to Ondráš … that, my king, is a virtuous soldier, twas he who twice felled the powerful and evil wizard Merlin! the fair Eleanor said, and she presented Ondráš with a braid of her golden tresses. So it is then … I declare you a knight, the king exclaimed in a thunderous voice … accept this gift, O valiant hero … and he handed Ondráš a huge sword covered in diamonds … the sword of the fallen Sir Dolphus … only heroes may carry the swords of heroes, the king said, his voice shaking the chamber walls … so Ondráš became a knight … Aha! so that’s why Krongold had two swords, I get it … and finding countless treasures in Merlin’s casde, they rigged out a splendid argosy and set sail for Genoa … an Krongold an Eleanor were wed … an Ondráš … uh, right! … Ondráš stayed with em! They adopted him … an they all lived together in a huge castle up in the mountains … high in the air, an kept an eye on the roads … an then comes the next part, where Ondráš takes out his Arabian steed, throws a shabrack on him, an rides off toward his next adventure … heh? … here I am goin hoarse an they’re all sleepin … the Pole’d finished off the bottle … yeah, great … everyone was snoring away, Mission Guy drooling … Ondra curled up at Gramps’ feet, also in rags, fast asleep. I walked out past the ties.