So, it was 2 p.m. I was at the Grand Central Market. I had found the butcher shop and I stood at the hogs’ heads. The holes in the skulls, where the eyes had been, looked at me. I looked back, took a puff at my cigar. So many things to make a man sad. The poor boiled those skulls for soup.
I wondered if I had been set up. These guys might never show.
A poor soul walked toward me. He was dressed in rags. As he got close I spoke to him, “Hey, buddy, you got a dollar for a beer? My damned tongue is hanging out…”
The miserable bastard turned and walked off. Sometimes I gave, sometimes I didn’t. It all depended upon how my feet hit the floor in the morning. Maybe. Who knew?
Well, there wasn’t enough money to go around. There never had been. I didn’t know what to do about it.
Then I saw them. Sanderson and his two monkeys. They were approaching me. Sanderson was smiling and carrying something covered by a cloth. It looked like a bird cage under there. Was it a bird cage?
Then they stood in front of me. Sanderson looked over at the hogs’ heads.
“Belane, just be glad you’re not a hog’s head.”
“Why?”
“Why? A hog’s head can’t fuck, eat candy, watch tv.”
“What you got under the rag, Sanderson?”
“Something for you, baby, you’re going to like it.”
“Sure,” said one of the monkeys.
“Yep,” said the other.
“These guys ever disagree with you, Sanderson?”
“Uh-uh, that would be death.”
“We wanna live,” said one of them.
“To a ripe old age,” said the other.
“Like I said, Sanderson, what you got in the cage?”
“Oh, this ain’t your cage, this cage is empty.”
“You gonna give me an empty cage?”
“This is the decoy, Belane.”
“What do you need a decoy for?”
“We just like to play. We’re playful.”
“Great. Now, where’s the real cage?”
“In the front seat of your car.”
“My car? How did you…”
“Oh, we’re good at that, Belane.”
“But why did you say I was going to like it?”
“Like what?”
“That cage you’re holding there. You said I was going to like it and your two doormats agreed.”
“Just playing. We like to play. It was small talk.”
“Small talk? When you going to stop playing? When is the talk going to get large?”
“The front seat of your car, Belane. Check it out. We’re going now. See you around town. In 30 days.”
They walked off. And I was left with the hogs’ heads.
Well. I got out of there and walked toward parking. As I walked along I saw a wino leaning against a wall, his head down. The flies were having at him. I stopped and stuck a dollar in his pocket.
Then I was into parking. I walked toward the car, got in. There was another bird cage there, covered. I made sure all the windows were shut. Then I took a deep breath and pulled the cloth away. There was a bird in there. A red one. I looked close. It wasn’t a sparrow. It was a canary dyed red. Umm umm. Ow. Oh.
They could have gotten a sparrow and dyed it red. No, they had to get a fucking canary. And I couldn’t turn it loose. It would starve out there. I had to keep it. I was stuck.
And taken.
I started the car and drove out of there. I hustled the signals and finally got on the freeway. As I drove along I heard a little sound. The cage door had popped open and the bird had gotten out. It began to fly wildly about the car. The red canary. A guy in the other lane saw the action and began laughing at me. I gave him the finger. A huge dark scowl crossed his face. I saw him reach. He rolled down his window and pointed the gun at me, fired. He was a lousy shot. He missed. But I felt the wind from the bullet passing by my nose. The bird flew wildly and I gunned the car. There was a bullet hole in each of my windows, one made going in, the other out. I didn’t look back. I had it to the floor. I kept it there until I got to my exit. Then I looked back. My friend was nowhere in sight. I felt the bird then. He was standing on the top of my head. I could feel him there. Then he let go. I could feel the bird droppings as they dropped.
Not a very good day.
Not a hell of a very good day for me.