"Sadly, I'm not interested in that sort of thing," Clarence's father said, patting Inez gently on her behind. "Literature's my game. You might be interested in stopping by the office one of these days, Inez. I'm bringing out an extraordinary first novel about World War Two."
"Don't you mean the Vietnam war, Dad?" Clarence said.
Mr. Mullens ignored him.
"It's lucky that a man came in while I was being raped and scattered the sickening mob that had gathered to watch," Inez said, taking Clarence's mother's raincoat from the closet and putting it on. She smiled sweetly at Clarence's mother. "You'll never miss this old thing," she said.
Clarence felt the dinner had been a big success. "My parents rarely take to anyone as they have taken to you," he said when they had gotten into his car.
The young boy was sitting in front of the television set just where they had left him. When Clarence stepped into the bathroom to wash his hands, he noticed a grimy ring around the top of the tub. "Did you have a nice bath?" he said, going into the kitchen to look for the Ajax.
"I have to go home now," the boy said. "Unless you have something to eat."
"But of course," Inez said, going to the refrigerator. "Clarence, what can we make with one egg and some oil?"
"Mayonnaise," said Clarence. "Unless you want to order something in. I really don't feel like going out again this evening. I'm not a strong person emotionally. That dinner with my parents was probably about as much excitement as I can take for at least a week."
"All that will change after our marriage," Inez said. "You just have to get into the swing of life, Clarence. Why don't we make some mayonnaise? There's some old bread here—the boy could have a mayonnaise sandwich."
"My name's Andrew," the boy said. "I don't have a father. The guy my mother is married to appeared only recently. Both he and my mother drink heavily. According to my mother, I am the victim of immaculate conception. Could we order a pizza? A friend of mine works nearby—he would be glad to deliver."
Clarence told the boy to go ahead and order the pizza. Inez was at work making mayonnaise, using a hand egg beater. The procedure was fascinating. With only two simple ingredients, Inez explained, plus a little vinegar, lemon juice, and dry mustard, she could create real mayonnaise. "Watch," she said. She broke the egg into the bowl, added vinegar, and instructed Clarence to slowly pour the oil in while she beat. Within a half-hour, the whole bowl was filled with yellowish, soupy mayonnaise. Inez took the bowl to the television set, where Andrew was sitting. "Andrew, would you like to try some?" she said in the gentlest voice imaginable.
"My mother is attempting to bring me up as the second Messiah," Andrew said. He leaned forward and changed the television channel to an interesting program about sexual surrogate therapy. A large accountant was describing his experiences with premature ejaculation. "I realize my mother has problems, stemming primarily from her drinking problem." Andrew went on. "However, the idea of thinking of myself as the new Christ does not displease me. I don't mind doing good deeds; I'm doing my best to maintain a childish innocence, though in these times it's not easy. Did anyone call in for that pizza:
"I thought you were going to do it, Andrew," Clarence said, picking up the phone.
After a half-hour the buzzer rang. As Andrew was involved in grooming Inez's hair, Clarence was instructed to go down and open the door. "My friend's name is Ferenc," Andrew said. "Why don't you bring him upstairs? I think you'll find him enthralling, Inez."
Clarence raced down the four flights of stairs. In the entry-way was a dark man, in his early twenties, dressed in paramilitary garb and holding a large box printed with a design of a man in a chef's hat holding a slab of dough.
"Ferenc?" Clarence said through the glass. The man nodded. Clarence opened the glass door. "Andrew is upstairs," Clarence said. "Do you have a moment to come and join us?"
"That will be eleven dollars and ninety-five cents," Ferenc said.
Clarence reached into his pocket. "I believe I've seen you around the campus before," Clarence said. "Do you go to school here?"
"That's right," Ferenc said, following Clarence up the stairs. "I'm working my way through school." He had a slight accent; Clarence determined that he was from Hungary, or some other Iron Curtain country. Yet he hesitated to pry.
On the landing he turned around to address Ferenc. "Only another three flights," he said with a slight smile.
Ferenc was dark and clumsily built. His thin, dark mustache seemed out of place on his potato face.
When they arrived at Clarence's room, Ferenc studied Inez hungrily. Then he turned to Andrew, seated next to Inez on the bed. "Not you again," Ferenc said. "The little Messiah. Has he been telling you his delusions of grandeur?"
"Aw, Ferenc," Andrew said in a whiny voice. "They're not my delusions—they're my mother's. I thought you'd be glad to see me."
Ferenc smiled and put the pizza down on the coffee table.
"Hey," said Clarence. "Don't put the pizza down there— that's where I keep my cutout pictures for my artwork." He raced over and lifted the box, but it was too late; most of the pictures of food he had meticulously cut out from magazines were stuck to the grease oozing through the bottom of the box.
"Do you know, apart from Inez, you two are the first new people Fve befriended in a long time," Clarence said. Neither Ferenc nor Andrew responded. "Apart from Inez," Clarence said again. Andrew picked at a scab on his elbow. "It's true," Clarence said, more loudly than he had intended. "Believe me or not, but it's the truth."
Ferenc had seated himself upon the bed and was intently examining a painting of a cow which hung above the fireplace. At last he spoke. "I perpetually build these cages and then put myself into them," he said. "I might have been a proctologist, had I not met a girl who introduced me to heroin. Now I've had to change my major from pre-med to finance."
"I know exactly what you mean," said Clarence. "Because I was afraid of writing a bad paper, I procrastinated, each summer I had more and more incompletes to write, until the work load became overwhelming. It has taken me more than six years to get through college; I still have a semester left. As for the statement that you two are the first new people I've befriended—I almost never speak to anyone, lacking social grace. It was only because Inez inflicted herself upon me that I became engaged to her, and through her, have now met you, Ferenc and Andrew."
Andrew glared angrily at Clarence. "This sort of dribble doesn't interest me in the least," he said. "If this is what you locked me up here for, you can bet I'm not sticking around any longer. Give me five dollars. I want to go play some video games."
"That sounds like fun," Inez said. "I'm coming with you."
"Should I come?" Clarence wondered aloud.
"Clarence," Inez said, "one of the first signs of a bad relationship is the inability of one partner to allow the other his or her independence. You have a nice chat with Ferenc, listen to your opera or whatever, and give me the extra set of keys. I'll be back later."
As Andrew and Inez walked to the door, Andrew said, "Although I'm only nine years old, I'm very highly sexed. People don't realize how much of a sex life even small children have. After we play the video games, why don't you come home with me, Inez, and I'll introduce you to my mother? Then we can go to my room and listen to records."
"You little devil," Inez said, reaching under Andrew's arms and tickling him ferociously. She turned and grinned wildly at Clarence. "Don't get maudlin, Clarence," she said. "Easy come, easy go!"