Typical American Read Online Free PDF Page B

of the birds. A practiced look through the ranks; he'd snap the victim's neck, bare its jugular, slit it. Into the barrel, still kicking, to drain. Later, a roll in hot water, to loosen the feathers. Then he would pluck and dress the body, working with such speed and authority that his boss no longer came muttering

    down the stairs, but only shouted from the landing for a count.
    That meant, most of the time, that some restaurant was ready for a pickup. The times it didn't mean that were a disappointment. The times it did, the animals would nose at their wire walls. Ralph would wash his hands, a ritual. Scraping noises; and then, like the gates of the Western Paradise, the trap door would open, lowering into the basement an almost intolerable beam of light. The rabbits would freeze, eyes glowing red; the pigs would squeal. Ralph would compose himself, at the ready. A figure would appear — shadow, penumbra; and Ralph like a priest would proffer up through the unearthly shaft, through the snow of sun-spangled dust, his mute communication to the outside world — placing carefully in the hands of another human being, stooped down to receive them, these — his chickens, his doing.
    Then the door would clang shut, and he would sit back down to work, seeing nothing — spinning halos, that was, spots of light, shapes — until his eyes readjusted.
    How long did this go on? He couldn't have said. Ages. Until one evening Little Lou came to visit with news. Pinkus had been named chairman of the department.
    "Go," he advised.
    Now Ralph knew better than to let his hopes swell but still they surged like a rain-drunk river. He got his books out, studied a few days, called. Pinkus agreed to see him. Ralph dressed carefully for the visit, in clean clothes. He was there, on campus, an hour early. How beautiful it was! He had forgotten. He admired the columned buildings, august even in the rain. He admired the herringbone brick paths. He admired the sycamores, rising like important ideas from pedestrian plots of short grass. He admired the statue in front of the engineering building, though it was not of an engineer, but only a miner, with something that looked like a washcloth on his head.
    Still he was early. He tried to relax.

    Until he was late. Why hadn't he worn his watch?
    A clean-shaven Pinkus glanced at his; but when he saw that Ralph noticed, said, "So you're a few minutes late, forget it. What are we, railroad trains, we have to run on time?"
    He said this quickly, though, like a man on a schedule.
    Ralph stared at Pinkus's new office, twice the size of his old one, with five big windows spread over two walls.
    "So is there something I can help you with?" Pinkus said.
    Over his head hung a clock.
    Pinkus tried again. "Is there something you'd like to ask me? Something you'd like to tell me?"
    What could Ralph have said then? He shook his head, shamed.
    "What is this, twenty questions?"
    "I like," managed Ralph, "finish my Ph.D."
    "You'd like to finish your Ph.D."
    "I ... I ... "
    "But your visa. How'd I know that? Your visa, right?"
    "Visa."
    "Please explain to me one thing," said Pinkus. "Please explain to me how this happened, with your visa."
    Ralph shook his head.
    "You don't know?"
    "Don't know."
    "You don't know, or you won't say?"
    "Don't know."
    Pinkus scratched his chin. "I tell you who to call. The Foreign Student Office ..."
    "Cannot do."
    "You've asked them already?"
    Ralph hesitated. "Yes."
    "You've asked them?"
    "Yes."
    "And they said what?"
    When Ralph couldn't answer, Pinkus swivelled in his chair and looked out each of his five windows, one after another, right to left. Then again, left to right.

    "Listen," he said finally, slower now. "I don't like to tell lies and, excuse me, neither do I like to hear them. Let me tell you something. The best way to handle your problem is the honest way. I know, in China, everything's through the back door. You think I don't know? I have ears, I listen, I know. But China is