The sun was down which made it night time, but Harry and Tyrone were bugged with all the lights that stabbed and slashed and skewered their eyeballs. They hung tough behind their shades. Daytime is a drag, when the sun is shining, the sunlight bouncing off windows and cars and buildings and the sidewalk and the goddamn glare pushing on your eyeballs like two big thumbs and you look forward to the night when you can get some relief from the assaults of the day and start to come alive as the moon rises, but you never get the complete relief you look forward to, that you anticipate. You start to feel the apathy of the day start to seep away as the lames and squares all make it home from the 9 to 5 and sit down to a dinner with the wife and kids, the wife lookin like the same beat up broad with hair in her face and her ass saggin, dumpin the same old slop on the table and the goddamn house apes yelling and fightin about whose piece of meat is bigger and who got the most butter and whats for dessert and after dinner he grabs a can a beer and sits in front of the tube and grunts and farts and picks his teeth thinkin that he oughtta go out and get a good piece a ass but too tired and eventually the old lady comes in and flops on the couch and says the same thing every night. Never changes. Watch ya watchin, hon???? By the time that scene is played all over the apple there’s a little life in the streets, but theres still those damn lights. Yeah, the lights are a drag, but its a lot better than the sun. Anythings better than that. Especially in the middle of summer. Now you have just said a mouthful, mah man. Ah feels like slidin mah pretty little ass to some nice dark corner and groove behind some fine sounds and maybe lay a bad dick on some groovy fox, and ah mean a bad mutha fuckin dick jim. Jesus krist man, you really got pussy on the mind. Cant you ever think above your navel fa krists sake? Sheeit. What the fuck you talking about man? Jus cause they cut the bone outta yours dont mean diddly to me. Mines still moren just a pee pole. Gahd damn, give me five. Harry slapped the palms of Tyrones hands and Tyrone slapped Harrys. Well man, we gonta stand here all night and count the cars goin by, or should we try to drum up a little action? O man, what you mean? you know ah caint count. O krist, man, why dont you cool it, eh? You think they cut that shit with laughin gas? Anyway, lets go where theres some life. Whatta ya say? Hey baby, Im down. Why dont we make it crosstown to the morgue? Hey, yeah, Angels on duty tonight. Theres always a little action at the morgue. Lets make it baby.
Harry Goldfarb and Tyrone C. Love got on the crosstown bus. Harry started to sit in the front, just behind the driver, and Tyrone grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the seat and shook him, his eyes StepnFetchIt wide, yawl outta yoe mine man? shaking Harry as his body shook, darting glances everywhere at once, yawl tryin to get us killed? Yawl tryin to get us lynched from the lamppost? Yawl outta your gawddamn mine? Hey man, lighten up. Whats with you? Whats with me—the bus lurched to a stop and they knocked into the railing around the driver and Tyrone jerked them back as he tried to hide behind his shoulder and peer at the people boarding the bus—whats with me? Is you crazy? This here is the south Bronx man, ah mean the south, SOUTH, you dig? O shit. Lets make it man. They slunk down the aisle, bouncing off the seats, bowing and scraping, Sorry, sorry. No offense man… The other passengers continued reading their papers, talking, looking out the window, reading the advertisements, straining to see the street signs, blowing their nose, cleaning their glasses and staring straight ahead at nothing, as they lurched by. When they reached the rear of the bus they sat down with a long, loud sigh. Hey massa Harry, how come you is a sittin back chere wit us black foke? Well, ahll tell you brother Tyrone, cause under it all ah feels that we is all brothers and under this white skin beats a heart just as black as yours, hahahaha, lay it on me, and they gave each other five. Sheeit baby, you aint white, youse just pale… and you got to remember baby, beautys only skin deep, but uglys to the bone, and they gave each other five again. Harry made a telescope with his hands and peered through it at the ads along the side of the bus. What the fuck you doin man? Its the only way to look at an ad, man. You really get to peep the broads without distractions. Harry deepened his voice: Dont be half safe, put Arried under both your arms. Sheeit man, Mums the word. You think Im putting ya on, eh? Go ahead, try it. Its the only way, man. Im tellin ya. All those lovely ads up there and you never noticed them. Harry scanned the ads as a lookout the horizon. Hey, look at that one. I bet you missed it. Does she or doesnt she? Only her gynecologist knows for sure. What he doin peepin at her thang. Yeah, it dont mean a swing if you aint got that thang. They stretched out and continued rappin and gooffin on their way to the morgue.
They eased themselves out of the bus and stood on the corner for a moment as the bus roared slowly away and the diesel fumes floated unnoticed around them. They lit cigarettes and savored the deliciousness o£ the first drag as they looked around before crossing the street. They went down the dimly lit street, around the back, over the low fence and quickly dropped down to the runway leading to the tunnel, then quickly through the tunnel and off to the right in a small, narrow recess and rang the bell with the opening movement of Beethovens Fifth, DA DA DA DAAAAAA. There was an old serial named Spy Smasher, and the opening music for each chapter was the beginning of Beethovens Fifth as a huge V appeared on the screen and the morse signal for v appeared under it, dot dot dot dash. Angel loved that serial. He thought it was real hip havin Beethoven help them win the war. That was his secret signal for everything. Angel peeped at them for a moment, then opened the door slightly, Hurry up before fresh air gets in here. They slid in and Angel closed the door, shut. The warm, humid summer air was left behind and it was suddenly cool, very cool. They walked past the machinery, up the steel staircase to an office. It was dense with smoke that whirled as the door opened and closed and looked exotic in the blue light. Tony, Fred and Lucy were sitting on the floor, listening to the music from the radio on the desk. Whatta ya say, man? Hey baby, whats happenin? Hows it going sweetheart? Hey, mah man, what’s happenin? Things are pretty good Harry. Whats happenin baby? Groovy baby. Harry and Tyrone sat down and leaned against the wall and started to move slightly in time to the music. Any action tonight Angel? Hey man, theres always action here. This is a lively joint when the Angels around, eh? You straight? Not yet. Itll be here soon. Gogit is on his way. Hey, groovy man. He always got some good stuff. The Spy Smasher ring got Angel to his feet and out of the office. He came back in a minute with Marion and Betty. Hey, whats happenin man? Im cool baby, what goin on? Whatta ya say?