customers waitin’. Can’t you see I got trade?”
The first two men who had been in the day before came up to the bar in a hurry:
“Two beers, on the double!”
Mrs. Feeley drew them:
“Sneak out for a quickie?”
“We been weldin’…hotter than the hinges! Give us another.”
Mrs. Feeley did. She took forty cents out of the half-dollar the man gave her and decided on a coup d’etat. She drew three beers, picked up one herself and with a sad face said:
“Here’s a peaceful Christian death to poor Timmy.”
“Great God, Woman! What are you talkin’ about?”
“He’s not long for this world,” Mrs. Feeley rolled her eyes piously. “Lyin’ there unconscious…they don’t give us hardly no hope at all; the poison’s clear up to his heart by now.”
“When’s all this?” the man put down his glass.
“Whyn’t you tell us yesterday?” his companion said.
“Much good it would o’ done,” Mrs. Feeley tossed her head. “You an’ yer likes, in your mad pursuit o’ the Almighty Dollar, a fine lot you care for a poor lad, a hero…caterin’ day an’ night to your lusts, providin’ you with beer an’ not even able to pay for it because he was too generous! Give you too much for your money, that’s what he done!” She used a trick she had acquired early in life and reserved for special occasions when aid was required: she quivered her chin.
“Is he in the Vet’rans?”
Mrs. Feeley shook her head.
“He’s a emergency…too sick to be moved.”
“Gee, I’m sorry. We never knew nothin’. He never says a word, just draws the beer quiet-like with that faraway look. What did you say was wrong?”
“Bustured appendix. They’ll never sop up all the poison outa him. Lyin’ here like a dead haddock he was.”
“He never mentioned havin’ no relatives,” the second man said.
“That ain’t surprisin’,” Mrs. Feeley said.
“Anythin’ we can do?”
“You can go out an’ drag in the lame, the halt, an’ the blind if you can’t do no better…we gotta have customers! An before five o’clock!”
“Golly! We gotta get back. That foreman’s a…beggar!”
“Pass the word,” Mrs. Feeley said, “Bound to be some vet’rans workin’ with you that was his friends. What we need is a few sailors. Leave it to the Navy to look out for their own!”
“Don’t you say nothin’ about the Army,” the first man said. “My boy never come back from North Africa.”
“Yeah? So that gives you license to forget an’ neglect them that did come back, I guess? Timmy ain’t without friends.”
“You can say that again, lady. When we come back at noon we’ll take up a collection…get him some flowers.”
“Save it for the wake,” Mrs. Feeley retorted.
“That’s one thing, when I die I told my old lady not to wake me! I don’t want ’em to wake me!” the second man said.
“Don’t worry, Buster,” Mrs. Feeley said. “When you die, they won’t be able to wake you: not even with a A bomb!”
The men hurried back to the factory and Mrs. Feeley began polishing glasses.
Guess that put a flea in their ear. An’ didn’t I fix that truck driver? Miss Tinkham always says the Devil can quote Scripture for his own purposes. She looked up as Miss Tinkham and Mrs. Rasmussen came in. They had several paper bags and the string bag was full too.
“That’s the biggest two dollars’ worth I seen in some time,” Mrs. Feeley said.
“They ain’t no caviare or hummin’-bird’s tongues in here, but it’ll stick to your ribs!” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
“Gimme the Bon Ami,” Mrs. Feeley got a rag and started polishing the windows.
The paste dried quickly and Mrs. Feeley rubbed it off with wadded-up newspaper. The window gleamed in the bright sunshine.
“You know what this place needs?” she turned to her friends. “It needs a new name…an’ a new policy. Too drab! Miss Tinkham, you an’ me is goin’ to put a nice border o’ Bon Ami with a scallop edge to it all
The first two men who had been in the day before came up to the bar in a hurry:
“Two beers, on the double!”
Mrs. Feeley drew them:
“Sneak out for a quickie?”
“We been weldin’…hotter than the hinges! Give us another.”
Mrs. Feeley did. She took forty cents out of the half-dollar the man gave her and decided on a coup d’etat. She drew three beers, picked up one herself and with a sad face said:
“Here’s a peaceful Christian death to poor Timmy.”
“Great God, Woman! What are you talkin’ about?”
“He’s not long for this world,” Mrs. Feeley rolled her eyes piously. “Lyin’ there unconscious…they don’t give us hardly no hope at all; the poison’s clear up to his heart by now.”
“When’s all this?” the man put down his glass.
“Whyn’t you tell us yesterday?” his companion said.
“Much good it would o’ done,” Mrs. Feeley tossed her head. “You an’ yer likes, in your mad pursuit o’ the Almighty Dollar, a fine lot you care for a poor lad, a hero…caterin’ day an’ night to your lusts, providin’ you with beer an’ not even able to pay for it because he was too generous! Give you too much for your money, that’s what he done!” She used a trick she had acquired early in life and reserved for special occasions when aid was required: she quivered her chin.
“Is he in the Vet’rans?”
Mrs. Feeley shook her head.
“He’s a emergency…too sick to be moved.”
“Gee, I’m sorry. We never knew nothin’. He never says a word, just draws the beer quiet-like with that faraway look. What did you say was wrong?”
“Bustured appendix. They’ll never sop up all the poison outa him. Lyin’ here like a dead haddock he was.”
“He never mentioned havin’ no relatives,” the second man said.
“That ain’t surprisin’,” Mrs. Feeley said.
“Anythin’ we can do?”
“You can go out an’ drag in the lame, the halt, an’ the blind if you can’t do no better…we gotta have customers! An before five o’clock!”
“Golly! We gotta get back. That foreman’s a…beggar!”
“Pass the word,” Mrs. Feeley said, “Bound to be some vet’rans workin’ with you that was his friends. What we need is a few sailors. Leave it to the Navy to look out for their own!”
“Don’t you say nothin’ about the Army,” the first man said. “My boy never come back from North Africa.”
“Yeah? So that gives you license to forget an’ neglect them that did come back, I guess? Timmy ain’t without friends.”
“You can say that again, lady. When we come back at noon we’ll take up a collection…get him some flowers.”
“Save it for the wake,” Mrs. Feeley retorted.
“That’s one thing, when I die I told my old lady not to wake me! I don’t want ’em to wake me!” the second man said.
“Don’t worry, Buster,” Mrs. Feeley said. “When you die, they won’t be able to wake you: not even with a A bomb!”
The men hurried back to the factory and Mrs. Feeley began polishing glasses.
Guess that put a flea in their ear. An’ didn’t I fix that truck driver? Miss Tinkham always says the Devil can quote Scripture for his own purposes. She looked up as Miss Tinkham and Mrs. Rasmussen came in. They had several paper bags and the string bag was full too.
“That’s the biggest two dollars’ worth I seen in some time,” Mrs. Feeley said.
“They ain’t no caviare or hummin’-bird’s tongues in here, but it’ll stick to your ribs!” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
“Gimme the Bon Ami,” Mrs. Feeley got a rag and started polishing the windows.
The paste dried quickly and Mrs. Feeley rubbed it off with wadded-up newspaper. The window gleamed in the bright sunshine.
“You know what this place needs?” she turned to her friends. “It needs a new name…an’ a new policy. Too drab! Miss Tinkham, you an’ me is goin’ to put a nice border o’ Bon Ami with a scallop edge to it all
Similar Books
