The Baby in the Icebox: And Other Short Fiction Read online

  “Who’s that you got in the chair?” he asked, in a puzzled sort of way.

  For answer, Johnny held up the mug.

  “Oh,” said Red. “Bob Plummer. Damn, I didn’t know that was Bob Plummer. Hello, Bob. How you was?”

  “Hello,” said Bob. “I’m all right.”

  “Say, that reminds me,” Red went on. “We haven’t got your ante yet for the Foggy Club. You’ll let me have it in the next couple of days, won’t you?”

  “Yeah, I heard about the Foggy Club,” said Bob. “If you don’t mind though, I think I won’t join.”

  “What, not join?” said Red. “Why, we were counting on you.”

  “No, thanks, I’d rather not.”

  “Well, gee, I sure am sorry. Old man won’t let you smoke, hey?”

  “No, that’s not it. He says I can smoke, if I want to. But you know how it is. He’s a minister, and it would make trouble, so I just don’t do it. Not regular, anyway.”

  Well, there we were, licked before we started. Somebody said something about Mamma’s boy, but just then Johnny dipped a brushful of lather out of the mug, and it wilted away to a few weak snickers. The game was over and we hadn’t scored a point.

  “No,” said Bob, after he had got up out of the chair, and carefully inspected his face, “it’s not so easy, being a minister’s son. There’s a lot of things you can’t do.”

  He leaned close for a look at his chin. We had an uneasy feeling that more was coming, and that we wouldn’t enjoy it a bit. And in a moment, we saw what it was. He had given Johnny a quarter, had received fifteen cents, and was fingering his change. He was going to tip Johnny Vandergrift!

  The room reeled around us. Johnny Vandergrift, who had brought the first automobile to town! Johnny Vandergrift, who had once seen an airplane! Johnny Vandergrift, who wore a brown derby hat on Sunday!…

  “Here you are, John,” said Bob. “That’ll pay for the wear on the razor.”

  “Keep it,” said Johnny. “There’s no wear on the razor, because I’ve shaved you three times now and haven’t clinked a whisker yet.”

  There was more, but on the whole I prefer to draw the veil at this point.

  MARCH 2, 1930

  It Breathed

  IN THE WAR I put in some time on observation post, and it was in top of the tallest tree in France, and you climbed up by a ladder, and they had a little iron box up there what look like a coffin, and you could go in there when the shells was falling, and they generally was. And how we done was to have two hours in that box and six hours off. Only a guy name of Foley got sick, and that give us two hours on and four off, on account we only had three men instead of four. And that there wasn’t so good, because even doing two and six we didn’t never get no good sleep, and doing two and four we didn’t hardly get no sleep at all.

  So it went on like that for two days. And then Katz, he called up headquarters on the telephone again to ask them to come get Foley, and they put up a argument or something, and he kind of got a little wild.

  “So you ain’t got no car you can spare, hey?” he hollers. “Well, you better get one, and get it quick. Because this guy is sick. He’s got the flu or something and if you think three men can run this post and take care of him too you made a mistake and you can tell the Captain I said so.”

  So Foley, he was laying right there in the bunk in the little shack we had under the tree, and of course, he heared everything that Katz was saying. So after he hung up, Katz begun to blubber, on account he didn’t want Foley to think we minded bringing him water, and bathing his head, and all like of that, and he asked Foley not to pay no attention to what he said. So Foley, he wasn’t paying no attention to nothing, and all he done was nod his head a little bit and wave his hand like he didn’t want nobody to bother him.

  So then me and Katz went over to draw the rations, and where we drawed them was from a infantry field kitchen, and it was in a trench about a half mile from where the tree was at. So we ain’t hardly started before he begun some more of his wild talk.

  “Damn this thing!” he says. “Damn all of it! How did it ever get started anyway?”

  “It won’t be so bad,” I says, “after they send for Foley and give us another man so we can get some sleep.”

  “Sleep!” he says. “Ha, ha, ha!”

  “Well,” I says, “what else seems to be bothering you?”

  “Plenty,” he says. “Them shells, for one thing. Always going off. I got so I jump every time a twig falls off one of them trees on the ground. And another thing: That would be fine, wouldn’t it, to get knocked off right at the end?

  “Two weeks!” he keeps on. “After a while only one week. After a while only one day. Then pft! Just like that. Knocked off. And then this.”

  “This what?” I says.

  “All of it.” And he waves his hand over the whole front, where it was kind of stretched out in front of us. “Yeah, that’s the worst. The rest, that ain’t nothing alongside of that.”

  I didn’t have no idea what he meant, but I give a kind of a look around and says: “Oh, I don’t know. It wouldn’t be no bad-looking country if they would fill up them shell holes and leave the grass grow a little.”

  “Not by daylight,” he says. “But at night, ha, ha, ha! Listen.” And he stopped still and looked at me with a kind of a crazy look in his eye.

  “Listen,” he says. “You know this whole thing is alive? You know it’s alive and it breathes?”

  “Well,” I says, “I never noticed it.”

  “That’s because you ain’t got that two o’clock watch,” he says. “Oh, my God, when that fog comes down and you can’t hear a thing, and all of a sudden it turns over and breathes! And me up there all alone in that tree—”

  “Katz,” I says, “it ain’t a thing the matter with you except you’re blotto from not having no sleep, so—”

  “Blotto!” he says. “Yeah, I’m blotto, plenty blotto. But that ain’t all. I’ve been feeling like this a long time, and—”

  “And,” I keeps on, “you can damn well snap out of it. Hell,” I says, “you think you’re the only one that’s got it tough?”

  And I spoke pretty short, because I was good and tired of listening to him bellyache. So we fixed it up that we would switch that two o’clock watch and I would take it ’stead of him. And at first he didn’t want to, but I made him do it because if it would make him shut up, the two o’clock watch was same to me as any other watch.

  And that night when two o’clock come I went up and started the watch. And I wasn’t hardly up there than I seen what he meant, all right. A whole lot of people, they got the idea that on a battle front it’s a hell of a lot of noise going on all the time. And most of the time it is, like shelling in the afternoon when the balloons is up, and machine guns at night when they’re sending up flares to spot raids, and all like of that. But from two o’clock in the morning on to dawn it ain’t nothing so still as a battle front.

  Still, I made out all right, because it didn’t mean nothing to me. But then all of a sudden I felt my lips go numb and my heart begun pounding like it would jump out of my throat. I was just looking at my watch, and it was 3:28 and I was getting ready to make my 3:30 entry in the book, when I heared it, just like he said. Maybe you think I’m lying, but I tell you it give kind of a sigh and then went right quiet again. And I was still pretty shaky when he come up to relieve me at four.

  “Well,” he says, “you was right.” And he wasn’t wild no more, but stood there looking out at it.

  “How you mean?” I says.

  “Plenty of them got it tougher than I got it. Foley, for instance.”

  “Did they send for him?” I says.

  “No,” he says. “He just went.”

  He went in the box and lit a cigarette. “You better enter it in the book,” he says. “I took note of the time. It was three twenty-eight.”

  NOVEMBER 17, 1929

  The Hero

  THE OFFICE OF THE town commis
sioners, second floor. Water Witch Fire Engine House. It is an afternoon in May. The members of the board, who are Mr. Hinsch, chairman, and Messrs. Matchett and Oyster, have just returned from lunch after a public hearing which lasted all morning, and are now about to go into executive session, from which, of course, the public is excluded.

  Mr. Hinsch: Well, gentlemen, the way I get it, we got to act on this matter of a pension for Scotty Akers, what I mean for his family. And I say let’s not have no more bum argument like we had this morning. It’s too damn hot.

  Mr. Matchett: I never seen the beat of them people, a-whooping and a-hollering, and a-carrying on, the way they done.

  Mr. Oyster: And it don’t make no difference which way we settle it, we got one side or the other sore as hell at us.

  Mr. Hinsch: That’s right. It don’t make no difference what we do, we got ourself in Dutch.

  Mr. Matchett: And us only trying to do the right thing.

  Mr. Hinsch: It’s this here goddam fight that makes all the trouble.

  Mr. Oyster: This here fight makes it bad. Wonder why the hell Scotty couldn’t of been squirting water in the fire when that string-piece beaned him, ’stead of on them Water Witches.

  Mr. Matchett: Scotty sure was a caution, thataway.

  Mr. Hinsch: How come that fight to get started? I ain’t never got that straight in my head yet.

  Mr. Oyster: Scotty started it.

  Mr. Matchett: Yep, Scotty started it, just like he always done.

  Mr. Oyster: You see, when them Semper Fidelises drives up in their truck, they finds them Water Witches already at the fire. Well, Scotty, he was driving the Semper Fidelises’ truck. And soon as he seen them Water Witches, he hollers out: “Hell, ain’t you got the fire out yet? Get out of the way and let some firemen get to it.”

  Mr. Matchett: That’s what Scotty said. I was there and I heard him.

  Mr. Hinsch: It’s a wonder Scotty couldn’t of shut up once in a while. I always did say Scotty could of shut his trap and improved hisself.

  Mr. Oyster: And with that, them Water Witches turns the hose on the Semper Fidelises. And they had a fight. And right in the middle of it the roof of the house that was on fire falls and a string-piece beans Scotty on the head. And when they pick him up, he’s dead.

  Mr. Matchett: And the house burns down.

  Mr. Oyster: That’s the hell of it, the house burns down.

  Mr. Hinsch: What I say, if them two companies got to have a fight every time they go to a fire, why can’t they put the fire out first and then have the fight coming back?

  Mr. Matchett: That’s the way them Eyetalians does when two funerals have a race. They always race coming back from the graveyard. That there is a better way. It stands to reason.

  Mr. Oyster: You would think them boys would stop to think that a house costs money. And them trucks costs money, too.

  Mr. Hinsch: And here we got all them Semper Fidelises saying the town had ought to pay Scotty’s family a pension, account of him getting beaned like you might say in the line of duty, and all them Water Witches says it’s a hell of a note to sock a pension on the taxpayers, account of Scotty being the one that started the fight. And it don’t make no difference which way we settle it, we got ourself in Dutch.

  Mr. Matchett: A fellow don’t hardly know what to do.

  Mr. Hinsch: Them companies wasn’t so bad before this here Rotary Club butted in with all their lovey-dovey stuff.

  Mr. Matchett: Why, no! What I mean, they had a fight now and then, but they didn’t have nobody get killed or no house burn down, like of that.

  Mr. Oyster: But them Rotarys wasn’t satisfied. They had to get up a association and have all the firemen belong to it, so them two companies would love one another. Who the hell ever hear tell of a couple of fire companies that love one another?

  Mr. Hinsch: I don’t think much of that stuff. You got to have competition.

  Mr. Oyster: And come to find out, they love each other so damn much they had a fight and the house burns down. And Scotty gets killed.

  Mr. Hinsch: Them Rotarys makes me sick. Why the hell does them fellows belong to a order like that?

  Mr. Matchett: I hear a fellow say they don’t pay no benefits nor nothing.

  Mr. Oyster: That’s right. Jim Peasely, that was president last year, told me so hisself. They ain’t got no insurance or nothing like that.

  Mr. Matchett: And they ain’t got no regalia.

  Mr. Oyster: And then another thing, why don’t they have their meetings at night? Daytime ain’t no time for a order to meet. I’d like to see them try to pull off a initiation, what I mean, a real initiation, with a big class of candidates, like that, in the daytime. Why, you couldn’t do it.

  Mr. Matchett: All they got is a password.

  Mr. Oyster; Password? Why, hell, they ain’t got a password no more than a snowbird has. They got a motto, that’s all they got. “Serve yourself,” or something like that, I forget just what it is. But not no regular password, not even a grip.

  Mr. Hinsch: Is that right?

  Mr. Matchett: I swear to God, I never knowed that. I thought they had a password and a grip.

  Mr. Hinsch: Ain’t they got nothing at all?

  Mr. Oyster: Not a damn thing! And to hear them fellows talk, and read them pieces in the paper, you would think it was something.

  Mr. Hinsch: When I get an order, I want something for my money.

  Mr. Matchett: Me, too. I’m in the Junior Order and Heptasophs now, and before long—well, I reckon you boys know what I got my eye on. I hope to get took in the Odd Fellows.

  Mr. Oyster: Shall we tell him, Hinsch?

  Mr. Hinsch: Go ahead and tell him.

  Mr. Oyster: We got a little surprise for you, Matchett. It’s all fixed up for you with the Odd Fellows. They act on it next meeting. Fact of the matter the committee has already passed on it.

  Mr. Matchett: Is that right!… Well, boys, that there was sure some surprise, and I tell you it makes a fellow sure feel good. I kind of had an idea, but a fellow can’t never be sure.

  Mr. Oyster: Yep, she’s all fixed up. You’ll be right on the steamboat when this summer’s excursion pulls out.

  Mr. Matchett: It sure does make a fellow feel good.

  Mr. Hinsch: What I say, if them Rotarys hadn’t of butted in with this here Buddy Association, everything would of been all right. Them firemen didn’t need no association. They ought to of kept them companies separate. But then they got in this here bum argument about what color plumes they’re going to have on their hats and then everything is balled up like hell.

  Mr. Oyster: That there is a hot thing to have a argument about, ain’t it, what color plumes they’re going to have? My God! What difference does it make what color plumes they have? They could have green plumes and it wouldn’t make no difference to me.

  Mr. Hinsch: Me neither. But I say them Water Witches had one thing on their side. White plumes gets dirty awful quick.

  Mr. Oyster: Well, Hinsch, I say it’s according as according. If a fellow takes care of his hat right, what I mean, not make no football outen it and use it to dust off the back porch, why them plumes stays clean about as long as a man could expect. Me, I kind of like them white plumes. They show off good on parade.

  Mr. Hinsch: They don’t show off as good as red plumes. A fellow can see a red plume a long ways off.

  Mr. Oyster: The trouble with them red plumes was that Myersville had them.

  Mr. Hinsch: Myersville ain’t got no red plumes no more. They changed them to blue this year.

  Mr. Oyster: I know they changed them, but the trouble is nobody out in the state don’t know about it. What them Semper Fidelises was thinking about was the state carnival. Them boys is taken first prize on appearance for three years now, and they didn’t want nobody getting them mixed up with Myersville. Well, yes, it’s a shame the way things is all shot to hell since them Rotarys butted in the way they done. Them companies ain’t got no more show at the carnival
now than a snowball in hell.

  Mr. Hinsch: I hear them Semper Fidelises ain’t going down to the carnival if they don’t get what they want for Scotty Akers.

  Mr. Oyster: Yeah, I hear that too. First time in fifteen years we ain’t had two companies at the carnival. I would think them Rotarys would be ashamed of theirself.

  Mr. Matchett: Well, boys, this sure is good news. What I say, a fellow had ought to go in the Junior Order first. The place for a young fellow is in the Junior Order. Then, when he gets so’s he can take on another one, he ought to get took in the Heptasophs. Anyway, that’s what I done, and if I had the thing to do over again, I would do it the same way. Then, when he gets a little older and he knows where he’s at, it’s time to get took in the Odd Fellows. Ain’t that right?

  Mr. Hinsch: A fellow hadn’t ought to be in no hurry about the Odd Fellows. Junior Order first, I say.

  Mr. Oyster: It don’t pay to be in no hurry.

  Mr. Hinsch: Fact of the matter, Oyster, I ain’t never got it straight in my head whether Scotty died in line of duty or not. That there is a question.

  Mr. Oyster: The way I look at it, Scotty was there when the bell rang. Then Scotty drove the truck out and got to the fire. And he was at the fire. We know that much, and there can’t be no argument about it. Well, suppose Scotty had of been squirting water on the fire? The string-piece might of beaned him just the same.

  Mr. Hinsch: That’s so, all right. Fact of the matter, you might say the string-piece would of been more liable to of beaned him if he was squirting water on the fire than like it was. A fellow runs a awful risk, taking a hose in close on a fire when it gets started good.

  Mr. Oyster: And then another thing. Take where Scotty was standing. He didn’t have to pull that nozzle in close to the fire like that, just to sock it on them Water Witches. It looks to me like Scotty was just getting ready to turn it on the fire anyhow.

  Mr. Hinsch: That’s right. I was thinking about that myself.

  Mr. Oyster: And then, it don’t make no difference if Scotty started the fight, he helped to put out a whole lot of fires, and a fellow don’t hardly know which fire he’s going to get killed at.