Wolf Whistle Read Online Free PDF

It took him a minute, his hands were shaking so bad, not from anything Bobo had done, just only from making this bizarre sale to a woman.
    Seem like Red didn’t hear the spotey little boy neither. Red said, “Y’all come back,” to Lady Montberclair. Now what’d I say that for, Red wanted to know. The last thing on earth Red wanted was for Lady Montberclair to be coming back into his store again, acting modern.
    Lady Montberclair said, “Much obliged,” again. She was on her way out the door.
    Everybody else heard it, though, what that spotey little shine did, dared to have did. Runt Conroy sure heard it. Runt heard it and wondered if he could teach his parrot to say hubba-hubba. His parrot couldn’t say a word, only sound that durn retarded parrot could make was a noise like a cash register. Maybe it could learn hubba-hubba.
    Gilbert Mecklin heard it, the housepainter, just about the time he was helping his blind daddy come back up the steps. Gilbert didn’t have time to pay it no mind, but he heard it. Heard him whistle, too. Wolf whistle, real low.
    Pap said, “Are you sure that’s a hellhound? To the touch it seemed to be built more like a rat.”
    Gilbert said, “Well, it’d have to be a moughty big rat to get mistook for a hellhound, Pap.”
    Rufus McKay heard it, in his sleep, and sat up real sudden in the shoeshine chair and sang, “Pardon me, boys, is that the Chattanooga Choo-Choo?” and slumped back down and slept again.
    The pigeons moved about on their perches in the rafters, restless.
    Solon Gregg heard it, too, the man of flames.
    Solon said, “What did you say?” Speaking to the spotey colored child.
    He said this slow and deliberate and mean.
    Probably nobody in Red’s Goodlookin Bar and Gro. knew that history was about to be made, well, I mean, how could they?
    One of the pigeons in the rafters, bout that time, he took himself a good long shit, oh boy, felt good, whew, cleaned his old bird-guts right out, sho did. He turned to another pigeon, sitting up in the rafters with him, he say, “You sleep?” Other pigeon said, “Naw.” Pigeon say, “Look at that child, the little nigger, the one what got him two pieces of Bazooka in his hand.” Second pigeon say, “Uh-huh.” Pigeon say, “That boy, now he’s surprised, he surprised he-ownself, you better believe it.” Second pigeon say, “Is?” Pigeon say, “That boy he thank he most be talking to he-ownself, just loud enough, you know, to satisfy the dare.” Second pigeon say, “Do?” Pigeon say, “Look like to that little spote somebody be reading his mind.” Second pigeon say, “Maybe I was sleeping after all. I ain’t shore I’m keeping up with this conversation.”
    Solon stepped between Lady Montberclair and the door, blocking her way out.
    He said, “Hole up, Miss Sally, jess one minute, tell we get something straightened out cheer.”
    Lady Montberclair could not get past without touching Solon, so she stopped.
    Solon said to the child, “Why don’t you jess wipe that grin off your face, boy, and tell us yore name?”
    The child said, “Huh?”
    The front porch cleared off, blues singers and children and all.
    Solon said, “Don’t you know how to talk to a white man?”
    The boy said, “I own no.”
    Solon said, “Yew own no.”
    Red was watching all this from behind the counter. His white hair was sticking up like chicken feathers. He said, “Solon, let me pour you a little taste, son, you bout to need a little taste, ain’t you?”
    Lady Montberclair said to the boy, “Come on here with me, Junior, walk out to the car with me and get in the backseat, I’ll drive you home.”
    Solon kept the door blocked with his body, and so nobody moved. He said, “I don’t thank so. Not tell this here boy tells me his