Waxy stood, walked around his table, and stumbled out into the street. Corn on the cob, lobster, scrapple, potpie, turkey, cranberry sauce, watermelon, spaghetti!
Lovely, lovely Dorothy, where in the hell did you get spaghetti? With antipasto? Chianti? Mama mia! 'At's-a some spicy meatball!
Anything for you, Waxy—
Waxy opened his eyes, realizing that he had just run into someone. He looked at the person's face, and it was Packy Dern.
"Uh, hi Packy."
Packy looked about the dusty street, then frowned at Waxy. "Hi, Waxy. Uh, where're you goin'?" "Damned if I know."
Packy nodded once. "See you there." The boss elephant man continued his stumble down the street.
—and the lovely Dorothy Drake again filled Waxy's vision. His feet walked upon clouds of whipped cream, the vision just out of reach. Those legs, that body, that smile, spaghetti! Waxy, I can help you with the paperwork. "Dorothy," he called. "Dorothy!" "What is it, Waxy?"
He opened his eyes and found himself next to the kraal, standing in front of Dot the Pot's porch. She was garbed in tattered overalls, her hair was snaggled, and Waxy suddenly remembered the lady busting Poge Loder's nose. Still, before him flashed images of the bullhand, her bosom straining against her blue-sequined costume, French knit stockings, the smell—the smell goddammit—of spaghetti!
Waxy closed his eyes, rubbed them, then looked away from the glorious vision just to clear his mind. He saw a boy and a girl sitting upon the kraal fence. They both screamed in surprise and fell over backwards when they realized that they were looking at themselves.
Little Will and Shiner Pete held hands as they stood before Waxy's table, Cookie Jo and Dot the Pot standing behind them. Waxy sat upon his cushion while Packy stood next to him, his face a study in perpendicular outrage. Waxy tapped his reed pen upon the table and poked, first at Little Will, then at Shiner Pete.
"Why?"
Shiner Pete looked Waxy square in the eye. "Little Will and I want to get married."
Waxy dropped the pen. "Hoo! Would that turn Poge's crank." He studied the pair, then held out his hand. "But why all this other stuff?"
Pete shuffled his feet around some, then spoke. "You didn't seem too keen on marriage the last time I was in town. We thought if we could square away your troubles with Poge—"
"What's that got to do with me and Dot?" Waxy pointed at the boss elephant man. "And Packy and Cookie Jo?"
Dot the Pot stepped forward and placed her hand upon Little Will's shoulder. "I asked them to do Cookie Jo and me a favor. If it's anybody's fault, it's mine."
Cookie Jo glanced at Packy, then at Waxy. "And mine." She looked at Packy, but the boss elephant man turned his glance toward Waxy. "Look, old son, can't we just put this thing to rest?"
Waxy leaned back against the wall, his eyebrows attempting to mate with his hairline. "I don't know." He looked at the boss elephant man. "What about you?"
Packy's face reddened as his voice lowered. "Well, I was going to ask Cookie once we got back anyways—" Cookie Jo issued a small scream and almost flattened Packy against the wall.
"You never said. Packy, you never said."
His composure almost restored, Packy looked into Cookie Jo's eyes. "Cookie, some things go without saying." He shrugged. '"Sides, I didn't know if you'd go for it."
Waxy looked at Shiner Pete and pointed at Cookie Jo. "What did you do? Did you have her slinging hash in the altogether?"
Pete's face flushed and he remained silent. Waxy scratched his chin, then looked up at Dot the Pot. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"You going to make me say it?"
Dot grinned. "You can bet your brass buttons on that, Waxy."
"That spaghetti was hitting below the belt."
Dot withdrew her hand from Little Will's shoulder and leaned over Waxy's table. "You want spaghetti? I'll figure out how to make it."
Waxy looked down and hunched his shoulders up and down. "What're you going to do with a one-armed man?"
"It's not your arm I'm interested in." Dot moved around the table and knelt next to Waxy. "You are such a jerk."
Waxy looked up at Shiner Pete and Little Will. "I guess that leaves you two." Waxy waved his arm about. "Does Poge know about any of this?"
Both Pete and Little Will shook their heads.
Waxy pursed his lips for a moment, and then nodded. "Good. Never tell him. Never. Neither him nor Baggage Horse Betty." Waxy grinned. "There's a time and a place for everything. Now, as to you two—"
Weeks later, far to the south in Tarzak, Warts, the Pendiian route book man, was conferring with his assistant, Agdok Shti-maak, one of the turtle-shelled inhabitants of the planet Wallabee. Turtlehead held out a paper with a two-fingered hand. "Then there is this copy of the entry for the town of Miira."
Warts sighed, took the sheet of paper, and read it:
Workday, the 1st of Layup, Second year since the Crash Waxy Adnelli on the Miira Books
Today the road gang returned. No one died, and the Miira-Kuumic Road is finished. Everybody is getting ready for The Season the second in Tarzak.
Marriages annulled:
Baggage Horse Betty Loder to Sunburst Sid Bates;
Dot the Pot Drake to Daisy the Percheron;
Poge Loder to his mother, Agnes Loder;
Waxy Adnelli to Waxy Adnelli;
Poge Loder to the Miira town cesspool;
Waxy Adnelli to various and sundry plants and animals in the immediate vicinity of the town.
Married today:
Poge Loder to his wife, Baggage Horse Betty, to be made retroactive enough to take care of the three Loder boys;
Mortimer Loder and Agnes Loder, to be made retroactive enough to legitimize Poge in the eyes of the religion to which he is afflicted;
Boss elephant man Packy Dern to Cookie Jo Wayne;
Waxy Adnelli to Dot the Pot Drake;
Shiner Pete Adnelli to Little Will Kole.
And may the Great Boolabong look over us, each and every one.
Warts handed the paper back to his assistant. "Turtlehead," he said, "our primary purpose is to preserve John J. O'Hara's vision of the show. We must devote our every effort at making a success out of The Season the second." He waved a lumpy hand at the paper. "I think that human mating and religious rituals are something better left to specialists."
Turtlehead glanced at the paper, then looked back at Warts. "Do you still want me to move to Miira and help Waxy?"
Warts nodded. "Waxy has complained about the workload." Warts tapped a lumpy finger against the paper. "Still, I wonder why Poge wedded the town cesspool? Is it symbolic?"
"It would seem to be, since such an arrangement hardly seems productive." Turtlehead placed the paper into the Miira Book, then looked back at Warts. "Perhaps it was arranged. It was the custom upon my planet."
Warts scratched his lumps and nodded. "Perhaps. After The Season, I might ask Waxy to explain a few of these things. Meanwhile, there is The Seaaon for which to prepare." Warts noticed a curious expression upon Turtlehead's face, that of it which could be seen beneath his shell. "Is something bothering you?"
Turtlehead angrily tapped one finger against the cover of the Miira Book. "It seems rather callous for Waxy to wed all of those plants and animals, and then to dump them for one female human."
Warts nodded. "As I said, perhaps the subject is better left to specialists."
FIFTEEN
As the bulls crossed the delta bridges on the way to Tarzak for The Season the second, Little Will noticed changes. From her rolling perch upon Reg's neck, the sun reflecting from the many whitewashed adobe houses lining the streets made her squint her eyes. Across the delta, the houses of the fishing village started by Leadfoot Sina dotted the dark yellow dunes above the blueness of the sea. A single pier extended from the beach over the water. Tied to the pier were two large fishing boats with fixed masts and several smaller craft.