“What kinda sign?”
“Don’t matter, long as it is against whatever the President stands for.”
“What is that?” I ast.
“We’ll think of something.”
So that’s what we did. I found a big ole piece of cardboard, an we spent twenty-five cents on a red crayon, an Dan tole me what to write on the sign.
“Vietnam Veterans Against the War,” he say.
“But the war’s over.”
“Not for us it ain’t.”
“Yeah, but it’s been ten years...”
“Screw it, Forrest, we’ll tell em we been here all that time.”
Anyhow, we gone on down to Lafayette Park across from the White House. They was all sorts of protesters there, an bums an beggars, too. They all gots signs, an some are hollerin across the street an a lot have got little tents or cardboard boxes to live in. They is a fountain in the middle, where they get their water from, an two or three times a day everbody get together an pool their money an send out for some cheap sambwiches an soup.
Dan an me, we set up our operation on a corner of the park, an somebody tole us where a appliance store was so that we can get a couple of refrigerator cartons that afternoon, which will be our homes. One of the fellers say it is a lot better now that wintertime has come, account of when it is halfway warm, the Park Service turns on the sprinkler system deliberately in the middle of the night, to drive us away. Lafayette Park is kinda different than the last time I was here—or at least the President’s house was. Now they has got a big iron fence around it an concrete posts ever few feet, an a bunch of armed guards pacin back an forth. It is like the President don’t want nobody to come see him.
Anyhow, Dan an me commenced to beggin from the passersby, but ain’t too many people interested. End of the day, we has made about three bucks. I am beginnin to get worried about Dan, account of all his coughin an how thin he is an all, an I remembered how back when we come home from Vietnam he had gone on up to the Walter Reed Hospital an they fixed him up.
“I don’t want no more of that place, Forrest. They done fixed me up once, an look where it got me.”
“But, Dan,” I says, “ain’t no reason for you to be sufferin. You still a young man.”
“Young, hell! I’m a walkin corpse—Can’t you see that, you idiot?”
I tried, but there wadn’t no talkin him out of it—He just wadn’t goin to the Walter Reed Hospital. That night we was in our boxes, an things was pretty dark an quiet in the Lafayette Park. We was gonna get a crate for Wanda, too, but I decided she could sleep with Dan, account of she might help keep him warm.
“Forrest,” Dan says after a while, “I know you think I must of stolen the money from the srimp bidness, don’t you?”
“I dunno, Dan. I mean, that’s what some other people say.”
“Well, I didn’t. Wadn’t none there to steal when I left.”
“What about drivin off in the big car with the girl?” I ast. I just had to ast it.
“That wasn’t nothin. That was the last money I had in the bank. I just figured what the hell, ya know. If I’m gonna be broke, I might as well go out in style.”
“Then what happened, Dan? I mean, we had a lot of money in that bidness. Where’d it go?”
“Tribble,” he says.
“Mister Tribble!”
“Yeah, that sombitch run off with it. I mean, he must have, cause he was the only one who could have. He had all the accounts an all, an after your mama died, he was runnin the whole show. One day he says to everybody that there ain’t enough money to meet the payroll this week, but to stick around an there will be, an the next week, that sombitch is gone!”
“I can’t believe it. Why, Mister Tribble was honest as the day is long!”
“Yeah—a chessman. I reckon you might believe so. But I think he’s a crook. You know, Forrest, you got some good sides to you, but your main problem is, you trust everybody. You don’t think there are people out there who are gonna screw you any chance they get. They take one look at you, an they say ‘sucker.’ An your big dumb ass don’t know the difference. You treat everybody like they are your friend. It ain’t that way in the world, Forrest. A lot of people ain’t your friend. They are just lookin at you the way a banker looks at somebody comes in for a loan—How I’m gonna fleece this rube? That’s the way it is, Forrest. That’s the way it is.”
Then Dan, he commenced to start coughin again, an finally he gone on to sleep. I got my head out of the icebox crate, an the sky have cleared an it is cold an still, an the stars are all shinin, an I am just about asleep when they is like a warm mist come above me an all of a sudden, there is Jenny, sort of smilin an lookin at me!
“Well, you sure did it this time, didn’t you?”
“Yup, I reckon I did.”
“You had it right in your hand, didn’t you? And then you get so excited about the ceremony that you forget to release the pressure valve—and look what happens.”
“I know.”
“And what about little Forrest? How’s he gonna take this?”
“I dunno.”
“Well, I can imagine,” Jenny says, “that he’s gonna be real disappointed. After all, all that stuff was his idea in the first place.”
“Yup.”
“So don’t you think you ought to tell him? After all, he was gonna come up there and spend Christmas with you, right?”
“It’s what I was gonna do tomorrow. It ain’t like I have had much time.”
“Yeah, well, I think you better get it done.”
I could tell she was sort of mad, an I wadn’t feelin too good about things mysef.
“I guess I done made a fool of mysef again, huh?”
“Well, let me say this, you was a sight, runnin across those fields covered in pig shit, bein chased by that mob an all them hogs, too.”
“Yup, I spose I was, but you know, I kinda figgered you might of been able to help me out there a little—You know what I mean?”
“Forrest,” she says, “it wadn’t my turn to watch after you.”
An then the mist sort of dissolved an I was lookin at the sky again, an a big ole silver cloud sailed across the stars, an the last thing I remember was Wanda done give out a big ole grunt from Dan’s icebox carton.
Next mornin, I got up early an found a pay phone an called Mrs. Curran’s number. Little Forrest had already gone off to school, but I tole her what had happened. She seemed kinda confused by it all, an so I said I would call again that night.
When I get back to Lafayette Park, I seen Lieutenant Dan in some kinda argument with a man in a marine’s uniform. I couldn’t hear what they was sayin, but I figgered it was a argument because Dan was givin the man the finger an the man was givin the finger back. When I get up to our boxes, Dan sees me an says to the feller, “and if you don’t like it, my friend Forrest, here, will whip you ass!”
The marine turn around an look at me, up an down, an all of a sudden he gets a sort of shit-eatin smile on his face, an I can see he has got picket teeth in front an he is a officer an is carryin a briefcase.
“I am Colonel Oliver North,” he says to me, “and who are you, gonna whip my ass?”
“My name is Forrest Gump, an I don’t know nothin about this ass-whippin bidness, but if Lieutenant Dan say to do it, that’s good enough for me.”
Colonel North sort of size me up, an then gets a look on his face kinda like a lightbulb went off inside his head. He is all spit-an-polish from shoes to hat, an on his uniform he is wearin about a dozen rows of ribbons.
“Gump? Say, you ain’t the Gump won a Congressional Medal of Honor over at Vietnam?”
“That’s him,” says Dan. An Wanda, who is still inside her box, give out a big ole grunt.