Honeymooners A Cautionary Tale Read Online Free PDF Page A

in
Berkeley. I’m going to run off that kid I’ve been sharing the dump
with. That student. I promised him an A for his trouble. And he’ll
get it, too. I’m a fellow who keeps his word about such
matters.
     
    Back in the kitchen Ralph
placed a carton of orange juice and a botde of tonic on the table.
Cats roamed about everywhere on the counters. They took turns
jumping in and out of the room through a tear at the bottom of the
screen door. Jim shooed a couple of the flea-infested creatures off
the table and placed the pint in its center and sat down
wearily.
    What are Erin’s boys doing
here? Jim asked Ralph. —Where’s Alice Ann?
    Who knows, Ralph said.
—Alice Ann and Erin are off somewhere. Erin dumped the twins on
me. Shopping, they said. That was hours ago. Maybe it was
yesterday. I can’t remember. They’re probably off in some hot tub
smoking dope. Erin has these hipper-than-thou friends. I can’t let
myself worry about it.
     
    What time do you have,
Ralph? Jim asked.
     
    Ralph looked at his watch
and then shook his wrist. —This sorry thing never keeps good
time.
     
    At least you have a watch
that works. So what does it say?
    About two o’clock. Which
means that’s only the ballpark. Give or take ten, fifteen minutes.
I don’t know. It could be a half hour off, for all I know. Why? Do
you have a heavy date or something?
     
    I’ve got a doc appointment
at three. Get some ice, Ralph.
     
    A doc appointment? Are you
okay? Is something wrong with you? Ralph said. He held an ice tray
under water at the sink.
     
    I had an appointment set for
earlier today. For one o’clock. But things came up. Or things
didn’t come up is what I should say.
     
    What? Ralph said, and shook
ice cubes from the tray into a bowl. —What in the world are you
talking about, old Jim?
     
    They just happened to have a
cancellation at three. Lucky for me, I guess. If I don’t make it at
three, I’ll have to wait two weeks for another opening. I hate the
fucken medical profession.
     
    Well, what’s wrong with you,
old Jim? Ralph put the bowl of ice cubes on the table. He emptied
the cold contents from a couple of coffee cups into the sink, then
rinsed them out and sat down. —You have a little dose of something?
You been sticking your thing in places you shouldn’t?
     
    You’re the one to talk, you
dog, Jim told Ralph. Jim poured vodka over ice he put in one of the
cups and added a splash of orange juice. —Ralph, if I tell you, you
have to promise to keep quiet. You have to take this information to
your grave with you. I’d have to have your word of honor on it.
Which is pretty much a joke, I know. But this is really private
business.
    Sure, old Jim, Ralph said.
He cocked his head and bent forward, his elbows almost to the
middle of the table. There was a slight squint in one eye, like a
man taking aim. —Mum’s the word, old Jim. Honest to God. What? What
is it, old Jim?
     
    Ralph, I just can’t tell
you.
     
    Jesus, old Jim, you have my
word on it. Hey, if you can’t tell me, who can you tell? Is it
really a dose of something? Something like that? I was just fooling
when I said that, but is that it? Who you been pumping, anyway, old
Jim?
     
    I found this lump, Jim told
Ralph. —On my, you know, testicles.
     
    Jesus, old Jim! Oh no! You
did? Really? That’s awful. That’s awful, old Jim. A lump, you say?
Hey, listen, it’s probably nothing at all. An infection. An ingrown
hair. Something like that. That’s my best bet. Hey, listen, what we
need is a real drink. Some good stuff, that’s the ticket. I’ve got
some good Scotch stashed in my bedroom closet. I hope I have,
anyway. If those damn thieving kids haven’t found it yet. What do
you think, old Jim?
     
    That’s all right, Ralph.
This stuff is okay with me, Jim told him, and fixed another
drink.
    Have you had any symptoms?
Ralph said. — You know, any of those seven warning signs. How big
is the lump?
     
    About the size of a fucken
coconut.