keep Morissey’s life from being ruined by an accident that could have happened to anyone, launched Gunther’s body for a voyage down Sugar Creek.
• • •
On the morning of Mother’s Day, Father and Felix and I didn’t have any exotic weapons along. Since Felix was headed for battle, seemingly, we brought only the Springfield .30-06. The Springfield was no longer the standard American infantry weapon. It had been replaced by the Garand, by the M-l. But it was still used by snipers, because of its superb accuracy.
We all shot well that morning, but I shot better than anybody, which was much commented upon. But only after I had shot a pregnant housewife that afternoon would anybody think to award me my unshakable nickname, Deadeye Dick.
• • •
I got one trophy out on the range that morning, though. When we were through firing, Father said to Felix, “Give your brother Rudy the key.”
Felix was puzzled. “What key is that?” he said.
And Father named the Holy of Holies, as far as I was concerned. Felix himself hadn’t come into possession of it until he was fifteen years old, and I had never even touched it. “Give him,” said Father, “the key to the gun-room door.”
• • •
I was certainly very young to receive the key to the gun room. At fifteen, Felix had probably been too young, and I was only twelve. And after I shot the pregnant housewife, it turned out that Father had only the vaguest ideahow old I was. When the police came, I heard him say that I was sixteen or so.
There was this: I was tall for my age. I was tall for any age, since the general population is well under six feet tall, and I was six feet tall. I suppose my pituitary gland was out of kilter for a little while, and then it straightened itself out. I did not become a freakish adult, except for my record as a double murderer, as other people my age more or less caught up with me.
But I was abnormally tall and weak for a time there. I may have been trying to evolve into a superman, and then gave it up in the face of community disapproval.
• • •
So after we got home from the Rod and Gun Club, and I could feel the key to the gun room burning a hole in my pocket, there was yet another proof that I had to be a man now, because Felix was leaving. I had to chop the heads off two chickens for supper that night. This was another privilege which had been accorded Felix, who used to make me watch him.
The place of execution was the stump of the walnut tree, under which Father and old August Gunther had been lunching when the Marítimo brothers arrived in Midland City so long ago. There was a marble bust on a pedestal, which also had to watch. It was another piece of loot from the von Furstenberg estate in Austria. It was a bust of Voltaire.
And Felix used to play God to the chickens, saying inthat voice of his, “If you have any last words to say, now is the time to say them,” or “Take your last look at the world,” and so on. We didn’t raise chickens. A farmer brought in two chickens every Sunday morning, and they had their peepholes closed by a machete in Felix’s right hand almost immediately.
Now, with Felix watching, and about to catch a train for Columbus and then a bus for Fort Benning, Georgia, it was up to me to do.
So I grabbed a chicken by its legs, and I flopped it down on the stump, and I said in a voice like a penny whistle, “Take your last look at the world.”
Off came its head.
• • •
Felix kissed Mother, and he shook Father’s hand, and he boarded the train at the train station. And then Mother and Father and I had to hurry on home, because we were expecting a very important guest for lunch. She was none other than Eleanor Roosevelt, the wife of the President of the United States. She was visiting war plants in the boondocks to raise morale.
Whenever a famous visitor came to Midland City, he or she was usually brought to Father’s
• • •
On the morning of Mother’s Day, Father and Felix and I didn’t have any exotic weapons along. Since Felix was headed for battle, seemingly, we brought only the Springfield .30-06. The Springfield was no longer the standard American infantry weapon. It had been replaced by the Garand, by the M-l. But it was still used by snipers, because of its superb accuracy.
We all shot well that morning, but I shot better than anybody, which was much commented upon. But only after I had shot a pregnant housewife that afternoon would anybody think to award me my unshakable nickname, Deadeye Dick.
• • •
I got one trophy out on the range that morning, though. When we were through firing, Father said to Felix, “Give your brother Rudy the key.”
Felix was puzzled. “What key is that?” he said.
And Father named the Holy of Holies, as far as I was concerned. Felix himself hadn’t come into possession of it until he was fifteen years old, and I had never even touched it. “Give him,” said Father, “the key to the gun-room door.”
• • •
I was certainly very young to receive the key to the gun room. At fifteen, Felix had probably been too young, and I was only twelve. And after I shot the pregnant housewife, it turned out that Father had only the vaguest ideahow old I was. When the police came, I heard him say that I was sixteen or so.
There was this: I was tall for my age. I was tall for any age, since the general population is well under six feet tall, and I was six feet tall. I suppose my pituitary gland was out of kilter for a little while, and then it straightened itself out. I did not become a freakish adult, except for my record as a double murderer, as other people my age more or less caught up with me.
But I was abnormally tall and weak for a time there. I may have been trying to evolve into a superman, and then gave it up in the face of community disapproval.
• • •
So after we got home from the Rod and Gun Club, and I could feel the key to the gun room burning a hole in my pocket, there was yet another proof that I had to be a man now, because Felix was leaving. I had to chop the heads off two chickens for supper that night. This was another privilege which had been accorded Felix, who used to make me watch him.
The place of execution was the stump of the walnut tree, under which Father and old August Gunther had been lunching when the Marítimo brothers arrived in Midland City so long ago. There was a marble bust on a pedestal, which also had to watch. It was another piece of loot from the von Furstenberg estate in Austria. It was a bust of Voltaire.
And Felix used to play God to the chickens, saying inthat voice of his, “If you have any last words to say, now is the time to say them,” or “Take your last look at the world,” and so on. We didn’t raise chickens. A farmer brought in two chickens every Sunday morning, and they had their peepholes closed by a machete in Felix’s right hand almost immediately.
Now, with Felix watching, and about to catch a train for Columbus and then a bus for Fort Benning, Georgia, it was up to me to do.
So I grabbed a chicken by its legs, and I flopped it down on the stump, and I said in a voice like a penny whistle, “Take your last look at the world.”
Off came its head.
• • •
Felix kissed Mother, and he shook Father’s hand, and he boarded the train at the train station. And then Mother and Father and I had to hurry on home, because we were expecting a very important guest for lunch. She was none other than Eleanor Roosevelt, the wife of the President of the United States. She was visiting war plants in the boondocks to raise morale.
Whenever a famous visitor came to Midland City, he or she was usually brought to Father’s
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