Candy by Terry Southern Page A

undershirt, and from time to time, would lock his hands behind his neck and do an obscene wiggle like a burlesque dancer. It was the sight of this bald little roly-poly man doing bumps and grinds in his undershirt that was provoking Livia’s hilarious shrieking.
    Obviously, they hadn’t waited for Candy to return with the ice cubes to begin their merrymaking.
    Seated in a corner, Aunt Ida—insanely calm—was reading a hospital-bound copy of Popular Mechanics.
    When they saw Candy standing in the doorway, the men abruptly ceased their barbaric squirming and changed to a chaste and stately minuet. Uncle Jack bowing sedately and fat little Luther doing a charming curtsy.
    “Too much! Too much!” Livia howled, falling on the bed helplessly.
    Good Grief! Candy thought. They’ve gotten completely hysterical!
    The two men soon tired of doing the minuet and reverted to their primitive technique—Luther scuffling around the room on his knees, Uncle Jack war-whooping and stamping his feet.
    Just then the door opened and Krankeit entered.
    To everyone’s surprise, he didn’t seem to be shocked by what was happening, and actually waved his hand to the dancers as if to tell them not to bother about him but to go on with their fun.
    Perhaps it was for her sake, Candy thought with a catch in her throat, to save her from the painful embarrassment of a scene.
    In gratitude for Krankeit’s good sportsmanship, Uncle Jack and Luther linked arms like chorus girls and began kicking rhythmically to the tune “Give My Regards to Broadway.”
    The young doctor smiled good-naturedly, but refused to go as far as taking part himself when Luther beckoned him to come and join the chorus line.
    “I take it back!” Livia cried gaily to Krankeit from the bed. “I thought you were going to be one of those melancholy ones, but you’re not a bad chap at all—God, if there’s one thing depresses me it’s to have some mopey Hebe around when people are trying to be cheerful, don’t you agree?”
    At this remark, a nervous tic appeared in Krankeit’s cheek, but he soon mastered it and said to Uncle Jack, “Well, I’m glad to see you’re up out of bed and getting the kinks out of your bones. Mustn’t overdo it though. Mustn’t take on too much the first day. . . . Careful your bandage doesn’t come off. . . .”
    Uncle Jack’s dressing had come undone, and he was waving a loose yard of gauze, can-can style, in time to the step. Now, with amusing versatility, he changed again, metamorphosing into a gorilla—lumbering about, scratching himself under the arms, and pouting his lips disdainfully.
    “Sid has become a real scream since he got that bang in the head,” Livia commented.
    The “ape” lurched to where Ida, deathly pale, was still reading Popular Mechanics; gripping her magazine tightly, she kept her eyes trained on the page and did not look up.
    Uncle Jack made an insulting monkey-face in her direction, and turned to the wall. He seemed to be making some rapid adjustments in his costume. From time to time, he made a soft hooting sound in imitation of a chimpanzee. Then, finally ready, he turned to face the crowd—he had undone his bathrobe, lifted his nightgown, and, with a fatuous leer, was exposing his member!
    Good Lord! Candy thought in panic. Not again!
    “You can’t say he’s not the life of the party,” Livia quipped in high spirits.
    Poor Luther, who had taken one brief look at what was happening, had buried his face in a chair, like an ostrich.
    Uncle Jack stood not more than two feet from Ida and cynically waved his member at her. At last she looked up from her magazine. “Well—uh—well, perhaps something should be done,” she suggested in a discreetly unruffled voice, catching Krankeit’s eye.
    “Oh my no!” Krankeit declared, with a scowl of professional concern.
    “Well, after all—I mean don’t you think—uh—” (The ape-man was very close to her. His gross organ virtually loomed in the corner of