The Broom Of The System Part 16

"Wetzel."

"Let's go, pal. You can wait out here."

"Go with the orderly, please."

"It'll kick, wait a second."

"Jesus."

"Look at the eyes. They roll over. They'll roll back when it kicks."

"It's kicking."

"Thank G.o.d."

"My ears are ringing."

"Holy s.h.i.t."

"You better get a drip ready. Call up on five and fill them in, Cathy, OK? First get the drip."

"s.h.i.t."

"Thanks, you guys. Shorlit, you want to see if he's got ID?"

"I'll roll him over."

"It's pretty much kicked."

"Christ, he wet his pants."

"I'm going to call up and let Golden know we didn't murder anybody."

"No ID."

"Check his chest. A necklace, tags."

"Umm ..."

"Undo him. It's OK, it kicked."

"I'm gonna go call. Try to find ID, then take him over to Series Start."

"Jesus."

"h.e.l.l of a start to the night."

"Here's a necklace."

"Pretty nice one."

" 'To JB From LB.' "

"His eyes are back, anyway."

"It's OK."

Just a troubling flash of the Queen Victoria dream, last night. Just a strobe of a florid patch of red dough, curled in scorn. A new one, though. Sinister. Lenore is not unresponsible. This one should make Jay's day.

I am driving in Mexico, in a Lincoln. The air conditioner is broken. It is unbearably hot. I am wearing a wool suit. The suit is soaked with perspiration. The sand of the desert is black. I have reservations at a motel. I pull up to the motel and park by a cactus. There are scorpions. The motel sign says NO VACANCY, even though it's in Mexico. But I have a reservation, and I a.s.sert that I do to the desk clerk standing behind the counter in a lobby that smells like a burp. The desk clerk is an enormous mouse, with a huge handlebar mustache. The mouse is wearing a faded woolen Mexican poncho.

"I have a reservation," I say.

"Si," says the mouse.

The mouse leads me through a hole in the wall (eat it, Jay, I defy you not to eat it up) to a room that is lovely and air-conditioned and perfect and complete in every way except that it has no sheets on the bed.

"Gee," I say, "there are no sheets on this bed."

The mouse looks at me. "Seor," "Seor," he says, "if you sheet on my bed, I will keel you." he says, "if you sheet on my bed, I will keel you."

We both laugh, and the mouse punches me in the arm.

"Good moming."

"Good morning. How are you this morning?"

"I'm just fine, thanks, Patrice. Shall we begin?"

"Oh, please."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"Oh, no."

"What is your name?"

"My name is Patrice LaVache."

"What is your married name?"

"My married name is Patrice Beadsman."

"How old are you?"

"I am fifty years old."

"Where are you?"

"I am at a sanitarium in Madison, Wisconsin."

"What is the name of the sanitarium?"

"Whom do you look like?"

"I look like John Lennon."

"Why?"

"I am sharp-featured and wear round John Lennon gla.s.ses and have brown hair in a ponytail."

"Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?"

"Because I want to be."

"How long have you been here?"

"Years and years."

"What do you see?"

"I see a trellis I have to climb."

"Why do you have to climb the trellis?"

"Because I am at the top of the trellis and I have to climb it."

"What is wrong with the trellis?"

"West bids four hearts."

"What is wrong with the trellis?"

"The trellis is white, with vines with thorns. They scratch my stomach my stomach is fat."

"What is wrong with the trellis."

"The trellis has a crack at the top near the window and it pulls away from the wall and breaks off, the trellis breaks off, with vines that bleed when they break."

"How high."

"May I please breathe?"

"Yes."

"How high?"

"Around ... the sun. It's a doozy."

"Where are you hurt."

"My back is hurt. My collarbone is hurt. Like a blister I popped open. I gave birth to a blister in the flowers."

"How far did you fall?" "...."

"I fell for years."

"Were you hurt."

"I am."

"What do you want."

"Punish me, please."

"Please tell me what you want to be punished for."

"For climbing, and falling, and breathing."

"Who was at the top of the trellis?"

"May I please breathe?"

"Yes."

"Who was at the top of the trellis."

"n.o.body."

"Who was at the top of the trellis."

"A window."

"Whose window."