powerful grip. He looked somewhat doughy, and the white hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and occasional flush of red on his face made him seem soft and weak, but he was actually quite strong. A beardless Santa on steroids.
Frost said, “The swelling on your face has gone down slightly.”
Bill had forgotten about his face. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t even itch. Without thinking, he raised a hand to his face and felt the lumps and had a sudden fear they might not go away.
“Come with me,” Frost said.
He and Frost walked away from the breakfast table toward the trailers. Frost said, “What I need, Bill, is someone to work for me.”
“Looks like you got plenty of help here.”
“I do, but the truth of the matter is, except for Conrad, who is my right-hand man, these people are quitebusy with running their acts. Taking care of their trailers, the like.”
“Then what would I do?”
“I need someone to help manage. To help organize. I do most of that myself. Conrad does the rest, but I need someone who can fit in with the general populace. Someone that isn’t special in appearance.”
“What about the blonde?”
“My wife, Gidget. I can’t say she cares much for my day-to-day activities. I find her a blessing, but she can be distracting too. To put it bluntly, that isn’t really any of your business.”
“Sure,” Bill said politely, smelling money behind all this, and wondering if the blonde was some kind of freak herself. Maybe had a cock and balls.
“What I can do is give you room and board and nothing else.”
“Oh.”
“I know that isn’t very promising, but that’s temporary. After a month or two we can evaluate how the two of us feel about one another, and we can decide if we’d like to continue together. If you like, next town, while your face is swollen like that, we can let you in on the freak show.”
“As a freak?”
“While you look like one, yes. We’ll come up with a name for you.” Frost’s face took on a disappointed look. “When your face heals, I’m afraid there won’t be much point in that. But—freaks get tips. Sometimes, they make pretty good. The Afro-American twins, Elvis and Thomas, are favorites. I think because they fight with one another . . . Wouldn’t that be terrible? To not like one another and to be tied together forever.”
“I know I wouldn’t care for it.”
“One believes he is lighter skinned than the other, and that is a source of friction between them.”
“I thought they were just stupid.”
“Retardation plays a part. But so does skin color. Actually, I believe the two of them are exactly the same shade.”
“They both look like niggers to me. Actually, you think about it, they’re just one two-headed nigger.”
Frost stopped walking. “Bill, if you’re going to work for me, and I know you haven’t agreed to, you’re going to have to have more respect for these people, and for other races. I can’t tolerate that kind of talk. Retards. Niggers. This is all outside of my beliefs, and this is my train, as I like to refer to it. So, if this is my train, and I’m the engineer, and you want to ride on it, there are some rules. One. Do not denigrate my freaks. The word freak itself is acceptable. In fact, they call themselves freaks.”
“I heard the retar—the black fellas calling each other nigger.”
“There is that. But I hope you understand what I’m saying. I’d like to have you here, but if you’re going to speak of my people that way, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
Bill studied Frost’s face. He looked stern and serious. Bill thought: Asshole. Freak lover. Freak yourself. Nigger lover. But he said, “I understand. I don’t mean nothin’ by what I say sometimes. I’ll try to be more feeling.”
“Good. Then you’ll stay?”
“Sure,” Bill said.
Thirteen
The train, as Frost called it, traveled out of there that day after breakfast with Frost driving a green Chevy station wagon with Gidget in it and
Frost said, “The swelling on your face has gone down slightly.”
Bill had forgotten about his face. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t even itch. Without thinking, he raised a hand to his face and felt the lumps and had a sudden fear they might not go away.
“Come with me,” Frost said.
He and Frost walked away from the breakfast table toward the trailers. Frost said, “What I need, Bill, is someone to work for me.”
“Looks like you got plenty of help here.”
“I do, but the truth of the matter is, except for Conrad, who is my right-hand man, these people are quitebusy with running their acts. Taking care of their trailers, the like.”
“Then what would I do?”
“I need someone to help manage. To help organize. I do most of that myself. Conrad does the rest, but I need someone who can fit in with the general populace. Someone that isn’t special in appearance.”
“What about the blonde?”
“My wife, Gidget. I can’t say she cares much for my day-to-day activities. I find her a blessing, but she can be distracting too. To put it bluntly, that isn’t really any of your business.”
“Sure,” Bill said politely, smelling money behind all this, and wondering if the blonde was some kind of freak herself. Maybe had a cock and balls.
“What I can do is give you room and board and nothing else.”
“Oh.”
“I know that isn’t very promising, but that’s temporary. After a month or two we can evaluate how the two of us feel about one another, and we can decide if we’d like to continue together. If you like, next town, while your face is swollen like that, we can let you in on the freak show.”
“As a freak?”
“While you look like one, yes. We’ll come up with a name for you.” Frost’s face took on a disappointed look. “When your face heals, I’m afraid there won’t be much point in that. But—freaks get tips. Sometimes, they make pretty good. The Afro-American twins, Elvis and Thomas, are favorites. I think because they fight with one another . . . Wouldn’t that be terrible? To not like one another and to be tied together forever.”
“I know I wouldn’t care for it.”
“One believes he is lighter skinned than the other, and that is a source of friction between them.”
“I thought they were just stupid.”
“Retardation plays a part. But so does skin color. Actually, I believe the two of them are exactly the same shade.”
“They both look like niggers to me. Actually, you think about it, they’re just one two-headed nigger.”
Frost stopped walking. “Bill, if you’re going to work for me, and I know you haven’t agreed to, you’re going to have to have more respect for these people, and for other races. I can’t tolerate that kind of talk. Retards. Niggers. This is all outside of my beliefs, and this is my train, as I like to refer to it. So, if this is my train, and I’m the engineer, and you want to ride on it, there are some rules. One. Do not denigrate my freaks. The word freak itself is acceptable. In fact, they call themselves freaks.”
“I heard the retar—the black fellas calling each other nigger.”
“There is that. But I hope you understand what I’m saying. I’d like to have you here, but if you’re going to speak of my people that way, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
Bill studied Frost’s face. He looked stern and serious. Bill thought: Asshole. Freak lover. Freak yourself. Nigger lover. But he said, “I understand. I don’t mean nothin’ by what I say sometimes. I’ll try to be more feeling.”
“Good. Then you’ll stay?”
“Sure,” Bill said.
Thirteen
The train, as Frost called it, traveled out of there that day after breakfast with Frost driving a green Chevy station wagon with Gidget in it and