The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [120]
U.S.A.
Dear Hoodlum,
This ship had no ballast and we were tossed like peanuts all the way to Bermuda which for me was curtains. But the ship's crew were damn good skins and gave me enough money to get to New York grimy and broke. Now let me tell you just one thing; if you have ever entertained the idea of coming back here, no matter what your condition there, I have one word of advice. Don't I turned on my accent full blast when I got to Boston but found little encouragement from friends. Another thing. I went out with a Radcliffe girl to see if I could finally carve out a normal sex life. My efforts met with blowing and no throwing which makes me think I need to see the coo coo doctor.
What about you? And that woman who worked in the laundry and the other one, the boarder? And tell me, how do you manage to get so much ass? What's the secret and what am I doing wrong? I'm going mad. As much as blowing is classically significant, I don't find it a substitute for the real thing and to complicate matters, I don't even know what the real thing is. Every day I walk down Brattle Street hoping some old lady will break her leg getting into her car and with my European aplomb I'D rush to her assistance and she'D say, my dear boy, aren't you sweet, won't you come and have tea with me when I get out of the hospital. But no one has so much as even tripped so far. I saw Constance Kelly too. Her face is covered with pimples. I went up to her and turned on my accent and she laughed right in my face. Jesus, I'm homesick for the ould sod. I even broke down and wept in Harvard Square with Constance and do you think she held my hand and stroked my brow? She just turned on her heel and ran.
Do me a favor. See if there are any jobs open for lavatory attendants in London and I'D come back. But in closing I want you to remember this, that this is America and we out-produce, out-sell, out-manufacture, out-fight and out-screw the rest of the world but the latter is elusive.
God bless,
Kenneth O'KEEFE
(Absentee Duke of Serutan)
Easy now, Kenneth. This is the way you do it Just walk up to them and pinch them right in the arse. Ah what tender meat, baby. But if all else fails. Remember, in France they have the guillotine. Cut it off altogether. And Mac, Fm sure, would send you a false one if you ever needed it again. I spot a blonde head over there with gold spangles.
And I hear hymns. Away in a manger. Taxis collecting outside. Follow the leader. Out this hall and through the mouth behind this blonde girl. I can smell her. We're all here together, rabbit stew and dumplings.
On the street, Dangerfield approached by this shining girl.
"Excuse me, you're Mr. Dangerfield, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Mr. MacDoon tells me you're an American. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"Well I'm an American and I'd like to go in your taxi. I think Americans ought to stick together. What are you doing over here?"
"I'm—"
"That's swell. I came here for Christmas. England's so rustic. And this taxi is quaint. Meet my friend, Osgood."
"How do you do."
"His name's Osgood Swinton Hunderington. Isn't that nice?"
"Excellent"
"Let's all ride together. My name's Dorothy Cabot. I've got a middle name, Spendergold."
"Mine's spice."
"Ha ha. Gee I'm glad we're going to ride together."
Three of them in the taxi. Past the packs of choir boys and mothers lugging red toys, Mary with a film contract. No one can tell me about the law of contracts. And Mary I'm going to have a word with you. Running wild in London and perhaps you've put your picture up on one of those public notice boards for gentlemen to take your measurements. And I'd say they were partial to the big ones. Pumpkins. Like one I saw when Mac went into a shop to buy a tin of Australian corn beef. And that was when Mac told me about designing the brassiere. About the uplift and to get them to point out a little. To preserve the supple look and a certain degree of bounce. We agreed the bounce was extremely important in separating the real from the false. And Mary I'd say yours were nothing but the truth. And this Dorothy here has two tiny pearls hanging from her ears. Her hair a soft curve round the back of her head. And Mac I'd suggest that Dorothy here had the pear shape which you said was rare and in demand. I'll move over a little and take a look through the open coat. Just as I thought, the strapless kind. And Dorothy you've got a pretty jewel on your pale winter breast. And hairless hands. Mine are cool and joined. I've not often been a man for light hair, preferring the black, the deep, the West. But you're rich and I prefer that. But from the poor the lilies grow and roses too. I'm a fair flower.