The air burned.
Was burnt.
Was a phosphor scorched — had become a phosphorescence scorched to the very core of the word.
There was something heating. A pot of something, something in a pot — wasn't an ember of it still heating gently gently heating on the stove?
"To us!" the man bleated.
"By Jove, to all of us!" the man bleated, the ponderous cup — no, mug, call it a mug — leaden in his hand.
With all his might the man sought to elevate the massive vessel from the table, his uncontainable heart smouldering with the violence of choice.
Iberian.
Moravian.
Anatolian.
Sudanese.
Ah, it was somewhere along the Levant, of course.
"I had been having for myself a bit of a travel, you understand, and been putting up somewhere elsewhere, I do believe — along the Levant, was it not?"
Pomeranian!
Perfect, perfect — the stupendous cup, it was a Pomeranian cup — or Pomeranian mug. So that these, therefore, these females, didn't every large-bodied one of them have to be a Pomeranian person, female female female?
Oh, love, love!
The man had never been happier.
"Everybody, everybody! — I want you to hear this! I have never been happier, I have never been happier!"
Was this bleating?
Then so be it, if indeed it be it — a ructation, an eructation, of the bleating kind.
The man cared not. The man was happy. The man was a happy man — just able to twist and turn his head to see the girl in love with her head leant ever so cruelly just so. Leant, burnt, becrusted — wonderful, it was all so wonderful. Well, it put the man in mind of the word indolence. Yes, this was your authentic indolence for you, wasn't it? By golly, what I would like to know is this — is the smoking air redolent enough with enough authentic indolence for you? Oh, it all reminded the man of the way his mother had had of tapping her lacquered fingernails against the backs of playing cards — how the man had loved that, how the man had really loved that — and loved too the way the woman had of rolling her eyes at him in a show of what he took to be a sort of mock surprise at him — or bewilderment — or, that's it, in a sort of a show of a kind of a good-natured mocking befuddlement over him, of her regarding the man with a certain air of what you might have said appeared to be a kind of a genuine mock befuddlement with him, or over him, genuinely actually real.
Unless it had been a wife of his.
Unless it had been one of the man's wives who had rolled her eyes at him. Who had lifted her eyes heavenward in a show of authentically mock consternation with him. But good-naturedly, good-naturedly, even if real.
Or at him.
Well, what matter which and who and all of that? It was only this that counted. But what, in fact, was this, anyway? And where was it, where?
Was he under the card table?
Was the man down under the table where his mother had played card games at the table, clicking her painted fingernails against the backs of the playing cards that the women, all the women, played with at the table?
No, no, of course not.
Hadn't the man made his way up some dreadful hill? Well, he had, hadn't he? And how on earth had he managed it, such a ceaseless twisting turning in the desperately angry heat, the immense child clunking along at his side as the man struggled to keep the grotesque pastry from leaning all the way away from him and with the torporous abandon of the inanimate sagging all the way away from him and slumping into the mad wild buzzing fields of, well, of Pomerania.
The girl had her head leant well away from the man.
Something in a pot was gently heating heating hotly on the stove. They sat at the table, those who were sitting. The man understood he must tell of all this when he had been restored to his own country, and that, when he told, he would say the table had been a refectory table and that the devout could be heard in testimony of their devotions from the world next door and that somewhere elsewhere too far away for anyone to summon the strength for him to see it there was an ember glowing, there was an ember smoldering, as Pomeranian after Pomeranian prepared to sever into parts the gooey domain of the great éclair.
Why did the word chestnut keep occurring to the man? And vastation, not vastitude?
It was cold, or cool, for the season.
But didn't this all depend upon where it was the season was seasoning? Oh, seasoning, seasoning — the man rather liked such effects, and understood them to constitute the profit of his touring among the humble of the earth. Then there was the girl, the gigantic sighing child, and her even larger no less innocent friends — colleagues, the tiny-toothed thing had called them, and yes, yes, so they were and would be, colleagues, the lot of them, colleagues all in all of this amazing romance.
The man caught sight of the flame.
Or was it where the light caught the knife?
Let me correct that.
Meant where knife knife caught light light.
"To iridescence!" the man shrieked — or did I somewhere elsewhere, wherever it was, use this word already? — and looked about himself at the notice such aptitude seemed to provoke in these colleagues of his.
No, tenderness.
This was the one word — this one, this!
Tendresse.
Yes, they would do it, wouldn't they? — these colleagues all about him. No, confederates — may we not say, as the man himself must come to say, confederates? Oh, but of course confederates, and would they not in due course do it with nothing less than with — yes, yes! — than with the customary — nay, celebrated — expression of Pomeranian tendresse?
THE TEST
TOMMY IS HERE, HELLO, TOMMY. Does Tommy want to play? Where is Timmy? Is Timmy in the yard? Yes, there's Timmy. Timmy is in the yard. Is Bobby here? Is Andy here? What about Lew? Where is Lew? The other boys, they are not here yet. Bobby and Andy and Lew, those boys are not here yet. But Tommy is. Hello, Timmy. Hello, Tommy. Did Tommy come to play? Yes, Tommy came to play. Okay, Tommy, ask Mother for something for you to play with. Ma'am, may I have something for me to play with? Yes, Tommy, here is what Timmy has. Oh yes, I want what Timmy has. Do you know what this is? This is a spork, Tommy. What is a spork? Who can say what a spork is? I can, I can. A spork is half a spoon and half a fork. Do you know what this spork is made out of? Who can say what this spork is made out of? This spork is made out of plastic. Can you say plastic? Say plastic. A spork is half a spoon and half a fork and this spork is made out of plastic. My mother doesn't call it that. My mother calls that a foon. What did you say, Tommy? Did Tommy say his mother calls a spork a foon? Why on earth does Tommy's mother call a spork a foon, Tommy? I don't know, missus, I don't know. Very well, boys — play nicely while I start the sandwiches cut in quarters with the crusts cut off and make the chocolate milk. Oh, look — here is another boy, here is Bobby. Hello, Bobby. Here is a spork for you too, Bobby. Go and play with Timmy and Tommy, Bobby. Are Timmy and Tommy in the yard? Yes, Bobby, Timmy and Tommy are in the yard. See the thing Timmy started killing before Tommy got here? Timmy knocked it off a leaf. Timmy used his spork to knock the thing off the leaf the thing was creeping, creeping, creeping on. Timmy has a nail he went and got from the garage. But Timmy used the spork Mother gave for the job of knocking the thing off the leaf before Tommy got here. Can you remember the job? What was the job? The job was knocking the thing off the leaf the thing was creeping, creeping, creeping on. Can you say creeping, creeping, creeping on? Try saying creeping, creeping, creeping on. Raise your hand if you can say creeping, creeping, creeping on. Oh, look what happened when Timmy knocked the thing off the leaf it was creeping, creeping, creeping on. It's in the dirt, it's in the dirt! Is the thing creeping down in the dirt? Oh, look at the thing creeping down in the dirt. Where oh where could the thing think it is creeping down in the dirt to? Do you know where the thing thinks it is creeping down in the dirt to? Look, everybody, Timmy is getting it with his nail. But what about Tommy? Oh, Tommy is doing what Timmy is doing, only Tommy only has a spork. Timmy has a nail and Timmy has a spork. But Tommy only has a spork. What does Tommy only have? Tommy only has a spork. See the boys stick the thing with their things? The boys are sticking the thing with their things. But Tommy started sticking it after Timmy started sticking it and Tommy only sticks it the same way Timmy sticks it and Tommy can only stick it only with a spork. If Timmy sticks it this way, then Tommy sticks it this way. If Timmy sticks it that way, then Tommy sticks it that way. Only Tommy can only stick it with a spork. But Bobby, how about Bobby? Is Bobby doing anything at all? What is Bobby doing? Oh, I know, I know. Bobby is talking to himself in his mind. Bobby is saying things to himself in his mind. Bobby is getting ready for him to say something about something. The way Bobby gets ready for him to say something about something is for Bobby first to say it over and over again in his mind. So what is Bobby doing? Can you say what Bobby is doing? Bobby is getting ready for him to say something by practicing saying something over and over again in his mind. Bobby really wants to say things. But Bobby has to get them all set first in his mind. Look, everybody, look! See the thing? Oh, it has lots of colored dots on it and there is stuff all coming out. Who can see the colored dots on it and the stuff all coming out? Ooey, ooey, it's on my spork. Is it on your spork? Ooey, ooey, it got all over my spork. Wait, everybody, wait! Tommy has it all over his spork. Stick out your spork, Bobby. I don't want to stick out my spork. Oh, come on, Bobby, stick out your spork. No. Big baby. Am not, am not! If you're not a baby, then stick out your spork. I don't have to. What a big baby! Stick out your own spork. Oh fuck, what a big baby! I'm telling, I'm telling. Go tell. Who gives a shit if you go tell? Can't we just play? Jesus, fuck, what a big fucking baby! How come you came? Nobody asked you to come. Big stinking fucking baby can't even stick out his spork. Can't make me, can't make me. Who can't make you? You want to see us make you? Wait, wait, the thing, the thing — is the thing getting away? No, no, the thing is not getting away. How could the thing get away? Does anything ever get away? Not one thing in the world ever gets away. Isn't Timmy watching it? Timmy is watching it. Timmy is guarding it. Do you know the word guard? Say the word guard. Let me hear you say the word guard. I love getting it with a spork. This is the best, getting things with a spork. This is how you can really get things with something. Try it like this. Try it with a nail and spork both. This is the best, a nail and a spork both. Now it's bent in two different ways. It's bent up at one dot and bent around at another dot. You know why this is? Who can say why this is? Raise your hand if you can say why this is. It's because it's been getting stuck in its dots. Hey, stick it all of the way down so it's stuck right down through it into the dirt. Oh, hooray, hooray! Now Bobby knows something he can get ready to say. Suppose we listen. Everybody, everybody, shall we listen to Bobby's mind so we can hear what Bobby is trying to get ready to say? Fellas, fellas, what about we roll him over and see if he's got any of those darn dots of his anywhere on his tummy too. Okay, here is Bobby trying it another way. Guys, guys, let's roll him over and see what the deal is with him underneath. That was Bobby. That was Bobby in his mind getting ready for him to have something to say. Now here's Bobby being Timmy and Tommy in Bobby's mind. A-hole. You hear the a-hole say tummy? Up yours, a-hole. What an a-hole — tummy. Go home, you fucking tummy a-hole jerk. Bobby is such a fucking tummy a-hole jerk. Hey, you fucking tummy a-hole jerk, how would you like it if we take down your pants and look at what's on you underneath? Bobby's hand feels all sticky to him. Do you remember which boy's hand feels all sticky to him? Bobby, it's Bobby, it's Bobby's hand. Bobby is the boy whose hand feels all sticky to him. Mother gets out the meat. Mother gets out the bread. Mother gets out a tiny bottle with white stuff in it. Oh, but wait, wait. Where is the ketchup? Where is the mustard? Where in the name of all that is holy is that fucking jar that had that last little fucking bit of fucking bit of fucking mayo in it? Shall we listen for another little while to what is going on inside of Mother's mind? Songs, there are songs, it is almost all songs that Mother is singing to herself inside of Mother's mind — such as willow, tit willow, that's one. Such as the flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la. And ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I've found thee. And here comes the one that goes come, come, I love you only, O come, come to me. That's the last one, that's the last. Let's see if you can remember them all. It is time to see if you remember them all. First, what's first? Willow, tit willow. Second, what's second? The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la. And next, say next? Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I've found thee. And last, last? Come, come, I love you only, O come, come to me. But what about the boys, the boys? Has Andy come yet? Has Lew? Who has come to Timmy's yard to play so far? Can you say who has come to Timmy's yard for them to play so far? Wait, wait, here is Andy. Hi, Andy. Hi, missus. Is Lew with you, Andy? Did you say Lew? Is Lew coming over? Really Lew? All in due course, Andy, all in due course. May I go play with Timmy, please? Why of course, Andy, of course. Take this spork and go look in the yard. Tommy's here. So is Bobby. All we need now is Lew. Be careful with your spork. Will you be careful with your spork? Tell the boys for them to be careful not to poke their eyes or anything. Can you do that for me, Andy? Yes, missus, I will. Oh, that's a good boy, Andy. Have a nice time playing. These sandwiches will all be ready for all of you in just a jiffy. O the flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la. O the flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la. Can you wait for Lew? I can't wait for Lew. Everybody, hey, everybody, say Lew! Hey, Andy. Hi, Timmy. Hi, Tommy. Hi, Bobby. Hey, what are you guys doing? You're not hurting that, are you? Don't hurt that. Let's just dig, okay? Let's play a game of digging, okay? Uh-oh, listen, it's Bobby in his mind. I'm turning the cocksucker over. Get out of the fucking way, you a-holes, I'm turning the cocksucker over. Scram, you darn cocksucking sons of darn bitches, I'm flipping the cocksucking sonofabitch over. Look how gooey my spork is, Timmy. You see how gooey my spork is, Timmy? Who has the gooiest spork, Timmy? Tisk, tisk, did you hear that, everybody? Shame on Tommy saying gooiest. All right, everybody, everybody all together now — shame, shame on Tommy for Tommy saying gooiest. Hey, Timmy, what are you rolling it over for? Did everybody see Timmy roll it over? Willow, tit willow. Meat. Bread. A little bit of this and a little bit of that. Then get the crusts all cut off. Then cut it all in quarters. Oh shit, it's all upside-down now and look at your spork. Missus, can I have a new spork? I'm busy, Tommy. Missus, I need another spork. Now, now, Tommy, didn't I give you a perfectly good spork to begin with? Look at it, missus, please. Now, now, Tommy — is Tommy going to cry? Oh, Tommy, can't you see I am busy making everybody lunch? You go back outside and just be patient. Can't I have that spork? How come I can't have that spork? Oh, Tommy, I am so disappointed in you. That spork is going to be Lew's spork. That spork's Lew's. Oh, missus, mine is all icky, icky, icky. Tommy, Tommy, am I going to have to send you home? Don't you see how nicely the other boys are all playing? Don't you want chocolate milk? Give me this one and Lew can have mine. Why can't Le