me.
''What's that Cornelius."
"The last stop of the elevated train."
"That's a bar, where it says WicMes.''
"Yes."
Mrs Sourpuss took a new crisp ten dollar bill from a black shiny purse. Her eyebrows raised, she lifted her microphone and told Glen to stop. The hearse went on crossing the wide avenue, followed by the two cars behind. A man in a grey uniform directing them to halt inside the gates.
"Would you be a real marvelous darling Cornelius and get me a bottle of whiskey.''
''Certainly of course. Any particular kind.''
"Canadian."
Stepping out under this haunted structure. The many times I climbed up and down from this train. Like a house on stilts full of windows. The end of the line or the beginning if you're heading downtown. Bartender with sleeves rolled up. Travellers hunched over drinks at the circular bar. Jukebox playing jingle bells, a sleigh ride through the snow. A customer saying that's what you're going to need in another hour if this keeps up.
Outside snow getting heavier. Telephone wires bending along the lonely avenue north. Across the street the black high iron railings. And beyond, the rooftops of the great marble monuments. Some granite and grey. Spruce trees and winterish maples, oak and beech. All the death out there covered up. Cold white and lonely. Mrs Sourpuss pulling open a cabinet.
''Have some Cornelius, it's going to be damn cold."
''Thank you, no. Not while I 'm on duty.''
"You call this duty."
"No."
''Well then let's have a few shots."
"I think I better not."
"Be a pussy foot. Don't expect me to sit here gushing tears."
''I suppose some mourners are sadder than others.''
"Don't give me that. Plenty are glad. Unless it's a kid or something."
"Here's your change."
'' You keep that, it's yours.''
"I 'm sorry but I just couldn't accept such a thing.
"You know in just a minute I'm going to pin a medal on you. You're just so god damn nice. Take it. "
"Well thank you very much.''
"Don't mention it. I married it. Well here's seeing you.''
Fanny drinking back a mouth full of whiskey, adam's apple going up and down as she swallows. Can't wait till I see her black stockinged legs again. Vine never mentioned tips. As part of what looks like my fantastic emoluments. To use an old fashioned term. Throw it to Vine to increase his word power. Took Fanny two sentences and a gargantuan gratuity to relieve me of a life time of self respect. Nearly seven dollars richer. Just for being her errand boy. Enough to buy hot dogs and root beer on plenty of ferry trips and still have change for a pizza.
"Cornelius, you're strong aren't you. Don't let anybody touch me."
Now wants to know if I'm a Samson. Glen smirking again up front. Think he'd learned his lesson. Be driving us next in the door of the Sourpuss mausoleum. Knocking the liquids out of the deceased. Send the attendants running for their lives. And give me a chance to stop somewhere quiet and count my money.
"I was married to a football player, Cornelius. He could hold me up over his head in the palm of his hand. But he couldn't make a dime. Cried like a baby when I left him. He kind of got sick in the mental department. Tried to kill me when I wouldn't come back. If he's waiting, Cornelius sock him, will you.''
A winding road up and down these vistas. Past a statue of a little boy with his knickered legs crossed sitting on a bench. Holds a red carnation in his hand. I was dressed like that when I lost my first fight. They left me back a grade for being dumb. And I thought I could beat the second toughest kid in the class. He had books under his sweater where I hurt my fists. Knocked me into a hedge and I started to cry. Now Mrs Sourpuss wants me to unleash a haymaker on the iron jaw of some huge gorp.
"Tell you the truth Mrs Sourpuss. I'm athletic. But this guy your first husband.''
"My second husband.''
"Well your second. He sounds pretty big. Do you really think he'll be waiting. I mean we like to give complete service where
''What's that Cornelius."
"The last stop of the elevated train."
"That's a bar, where it says WicMes.''
"Yes."
Mrs Sourpuss took a new crisp ten dollar bill from a black shiny purse. Her eyebrows raised, she lifted her microphone and told Glen to stop. The hearse went on crossing the wide avenue, followed by the two cars behind. A man in a grey uniform directing them to halt inside the gates.
"Would you be a real marvelous darling Cornelius and get me a bottle of whiskey.''
''Certainly of course. Any particular kind.''
"Canadian."
Stepping out under this haunted structure. The many times I climbed up and down from this train. Like a house on stilts full of windows. The end of the line or the beginning if you're heading downtown. Bartender with sleeves rolled up. Travellers hunched over drinks at the circular bar. Jukebox playing jingle bells, a sleigh ride through the snow. A customer saying that's what you're going to need in another hour if this keeps up.
Outside snow getting heavier. Telephone wires bending along the lonely avenue north. Across the street the black high iron railings. And beyond, the rooftops of the great marble monuments. Some granite and grey. Spruce trees and winterish maples, oak and beech. All the death out there covered up. Cold white and lonely. Mrs Sourpuss pulling open a cabinet.
''Have some Cornelius, it's going to be damn cold."
''Thank you, no. Not while I 'm on duty.''
"You call this duty."
"No."
''Well then let's have a few shots."
"I think I better not."
"Be a pussy foot. Don't expect me to sit here gushing tears."
''I suppose some mourners are sadder than others.''
"Don't give me that. Plenty are glad. Unless it's a kid or something."
"Here's your change."
'' You keep that, it's yours.''
"I 'm sorry but I just couldn't accept such a thing.
"You know in just a minute I'm going to pin a medal on you. You're just so god damn nice. Take it. "
"Well thank you very much.''
"Don't mention it. I married it. Well here's seeing you.''
Fanny drinking back a mouth full of whiskey, adam's apple going up and down as she swallows. Can't wait till I see her black stockinged legs again. Vine never mentioned tips. As part of what looks like my fantastic emoluments. To use an old fashioned term. Throw it to Vine to increase his word power. Took Fanny two sentences and a gargantuan gratuity to relieve me of a life time of self respect. Nearly seven dollars richer. Just for being her errand boy. Enough to buy hot dogs and root beer on plenty of ferry trips and still have change for a pizza.
"Cornelius, you're strong aren't you. Don't let anybody touch me."
Now wants to know if I'm a Samson. Glen smirking again up front. Think he'd learned his lesson. Be driving us next in the door of the Sourpuss mausoleum. Knocking the liquids out of the deceased. Send the attendants running for their lives. And give me a chance to stop somewhere quiet and count my money.
"I was married to a football player, Cornelius. He could hold me up over his head in the palm of his hand. But he couldn't make a dime. Cried like a baby when I left him. He kind of got sick in the mental department. Tried to kill me when I wouldn't come back. If he's waiting, Cornelius sock him, will you.''
A winding road up and down these vistas. Past a statue of a little boy with his knickered legs crossed sitting on a bench. Holds a red carnation in his hand. I was dressed like that when I lost my first fight. They left me back a grade for being dumb. And I thought I could beat the second toughest kid in the class. He had books under his sweater where I hurt my fists. Knocked me into a hedge and I started to cry. Now Mrs Sourpuss wants me to unleash a haymaker on the iron jaw of some huge gorp.
"Tell you the truth Mrs Sourpuss. I'm athletic. But this guy your first husband.''
"My second husband.''
"Well your second. He sounds pretty big. Do you really think he'll be waiting. I mean we like to give complete service where
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