Orcutt began chewing, closing his teeth slowly, and sighing as pleasure took possession of him. He leaned into the wall.
Well wind didn't blow him up there.
Well maybe Windy, Wise, and Noisy did.
With a fireman's carry.
The spirit moved him. Reverend, what do you think?
Henry's out there, why don't you ask him, Doctor? And he's smiling.
Furber sat up in a tumble of clothing.
Luther, please bring him kindly. Thawed, he'll speak. He was as hard as Christmas candy once before, when he was sick, remember? Set him right there nicely — by Chamlay the Beastly Badger, or by Ezra and Bessie, who've crossed their hearts in the table — or there, where Orcutt's leaning so in solemn silence, sunk in his dirty pleasure.
Furber rummaged in the pile.
Henry's eyes are out, but his tongue's in, I think.. Ink.
He picked at a mitten.
So the Lord says… ah… I am the Lord, says the Lord; I make all things. I stretch forth the heavens alone. I frustrate the omens of liars. Ha ha. I make diviners mad. I turn wise men backward and their asses inside out, and make their knowledge foolish… At last here come the monkeys on the horses.
Hold yourself together, Jethro, don't go to pieces. You have responsibilities here.
Do I go to pieces, Doctor? Here's a riddle: why am I so cold upon your faces? That's most unseemly in a man of my position, eh?… No answer. Then I shall keep my own good company.
Draped in hats and scarves and overcoats, Furber struggled to his feet.
Let's see: there'll be A to admire me, he said, ticking A off on the finger of a glove he had drawn only partly on so the finger flopped when he touched it.
Then there'll be B to bless me; C to cherish me; D … to undress me; E? to encourage me; F to — fondle… fondle… what an odd word. As ink. All as in ink. Ink's odd.
Hawkins laughed.
You look a sight.
He sounds a sight.
I shall recite a limerick of my own composition. It's very topical.
He held up an admonitory finger.
There was a young man of De Pauw—
The originality, my churchling smirkers, does not reside in the first line. Pffitt.
There was a young man of De Pauw,
who begot a giraffe with his jaw.
When compelled to admit it,
he said that he did it,
to repeal the Mendelian law.
It don't mean anything to me.
Sit down, Jethro, we've still got business.
But my dears — there's more:
All mankind now started to wonder,
concerning this cosmical blunder.
If giraffes, by this pass, can be got by an ass,
Who's the papa of lightning and thunder?
Say, Furb, that's pretty good. That's not so bad.
Then cried the Archbishop of London,
we are all quite certainly undone.
What such a jaw can,
an Anglican can,
by belling his balls with a bludgeon.
Whoo-ee, man. Whoo-ee.
By blowing his balls through a blowgun.
Whoo—
Furber, you're disgusting.
Don't be a pill, Olus. Furb, I didn't know you had it in you.
Olus is a sticky pill,
he will make you sick,
he will.
Hey — good — he caught you right off, Olus.
However this fraud from De Pauw,
who claimed to have broken the law,
broke down and
admitted 'twas not his jaw did it,
but his god father's beastly guffaw.
Hah—
Thank you, your gracious appreciation is applauded.
I'd like to settle some things in my mind, Furber, if you don't mind, Chamlay said.
A minister? A clown, Tott said. Lots of times we've had him in our house.
You smut muzzling mutt, Furber shouted.
Sit down, Furber, sit down!
But E's here to empty me — watch — he's wearing pink and has a passion to enter me. D's here to disparage me — there's nothing he can say, I'm black inside my clothing, black as ink. And then C — to chastise me, send me to Gilean, stripe my back. B to blame, to bully, to bluster, to bitch… A? A's last — to admonish me — no, surely more than that — no, perhaps to administer, nothing comes after.
Hey how do you think up those things?
But draw near here, you sons of the sorceress, the seed of the adulterer and the whore.
Furb—
You didn't know I knew the table of the elements.
It's quite a trick to make up poems like that.
Oh art is everywhere admired. And A is anger, or anguish, or ague, or agony…
Quick a trick.
As in ink.
How do you think up all that?
Stop baiting him, Luther, and let's get on.
The Reverend Andrew Pike's my muse.
What's he saying? who?
Oh it's that preacher, Luther, years ago, who was scalped by the Indians, Tott said.
Bait? Did someone say, bait?
Shut—
The righteous man perishes and no one takes it to heart. He was quite a ladies'—well, an Indian-maiden man, you might say.
T is for Tott and for tattletale. A greedy young spinster — hear that, Totty?
a greedy young spinster
ate, live, a lobster
and now every winter
when she sits dinner
as a kind of remonster
he pinches her inner.
Sit still, Bessie.
How about it, Doc?
Merciful men are taken away and no one minds.
With Curt there glaring at me? Ah, no thanks. Curt's heavy in his head and I'm heavy in my eyes.
Unfortunately, Olus said, Furber's the one that's light of tongue.
Do something with him, Tott yelled.
Wraps, said Furber, squashing a hat on his head and whirling a muffler around. God is kind… Hello… Good day… The weather's fine… Good hat. Good coat. Good glove. Oh God is kind. Say, against whom are you sporting yourself, pink pants? against whom are you making a wide pink mouth, and drawing out the tongue? are you not a child of transgression, a seed of falsehood?
Look Doc, Chamlay said, let's try to get on in spite of that.
He gestured.
I intend to get on, he said.
H is for snotspittle.
Jesus. Someone shut him up.
Kind cat. Kind dove. Kind dog. Kind gnat. Oh God is love. You should have listened to me. Then you should have had peace like a river. Henry's having some. He's smiling… smiling… Love this. Love that. Love lip. Love lap.
I'm here to settle this Pimber business in my mind, and I'm going to — no matter what.
H is for gorgespew.
Aaah.
Dear sweet kind cow. Dear sweet good goat. Dear black blind bat.
Come off it, Furber. That's enough. Dump all that stuff and settle on it.
Why am I so cold upon your faces? Answer: because I am the master of the resting places.
Is he drunk or something?
He's trying to keep Curt from his questions, Tott said. I know him.
Feed the fire now. Keep each your places. Soften Henry's mouth. His ghost will speak. It's out there now, hanging stiffly in him like a drying onion.
Fetch me my bag, Olus, will you? I don't know where it's got to.
Here's a fur hat for a hunter. Prosper the beetles.
Leave that stuff off, Furber.
A muffler from mother. It's like kitten cover. And body is to spirit as — these gloves to a lover.
I'll see if I can give him something — calm him some — he's had a seizure.
Don't worry about him, he's a toothless little weasel.
T is for truthlessness. T is for tickle my tummy and I'll tickle your testicle. T is for touch me not or for tit for tat.
Let him be, hell settle. He's all done in.
This Omensetter then — I say we should go out and get him.