finds to his deepest horror that he is stuck! “ This woman has been dead for three weeks, ” says the officer in genuine revulsion.
Jason strikes wildly against the thighs in his effort to free himself, jolts one leg off the bed so that it dangles there, disjointed and swinging, the long yellow to e nails scratching on the wooden floor. The four assistants seize Jason and wrench him forcibly away from the corpse of his dead wife. The body follows him punishingly in movement for a moment, as a sheet of paper will follow a comb after the comb has been run through hair; then, freed by its own weight, it falls back in a pile on the badly soiled sheets. The four men carry Jason to the table where his book still lies with its marker in it. They hold him up against the table and the police officer, without ceremony, pulls Jason ’ s genitals out flat on the tabletop and pounds them to a pulp with the butt of his gun.
He leaves Jason writhing on the floor and turns to march out, along with his four assistants. At the door he hesitates, then turns back to Jason. A flicker of compassion crosses his face.
“ You understand, of course, ” he says, “ that I am not, in the strictest sense, a traditionalist. I mean to say that I do not recognize tradition qua tradition as sanctified in its own sake. On the other hand, I do not join hands with those who find inherent in tradition some malignant evil, and who therefore deem it of terrible necessity that all custom be rooted out at all costs. I am personally convinced, if you will permit me, that there is a middle road, whereon we recognize that innovations find their best soil in traditions, which are justified in their own turn by the innovations which created them. I believe, then, that law and custom are essential, but that it is one ’ s constant task to review and revise them. In spite of that, however, some things still make me pu k e ! ” He turns, flushed, to his four assistants. “ Now get rid of that fucking corpse! ” he screams.
After wiping his pink brow with a handkerchief, he puts it to his nose and turns his back on the bed as the men drag away, by the feet, the unhinged body of Jason ’ s wife. The officer notices the book on the table, the book Jason has been reading, and walks over to pick it up. There is a slight spattering of blood on it. He flips through it hastily with one hand, the other still holding the hand kerchief to his nose, and although his face wears an expression of mild curiosity, it is difficult to know if it is sincere. The marker falls to the floor beside Jason. The officer replaces the book on the table and walks out of the room.
“ The marker! ” Jason gasps desperately, but the police officer does not hear him, nor does he want to.
○ ○? ○
3
The Brother
right there right there in the middle of the damn field he says he wants to put that thing together him and his buggy ideas and so me I says “ how the hell you gonna get it down to the water? ” but he just focuses me out sweepin the blue his eyes rollin like they do when he gets het on some new lunatic notion and he says not to worry none about that just would I help him for God ’ s sake and because he don ’ t know how he can get it done in time otherwise and though you ’ d have to be loonier than him to say yes I says I will of course I always would crazy as my brother is I ’ ve done little else since I was born and my wife she says “ I can ’ t figure it out I can ’ t sec why you always have to be babyin that old fool he ain ’ t never done nothin for you God knows and you got enough to do here fields need plowin it ’ s a bad enough year already my God and now that red-eyed brother of yours wingin around like a damn cloud and not knowin what in the world he ’ s doin buildin a damn boat in the country my God what next? you ’ re a damn fool I tell you ” but packs me some sandwiches just the same and some sandwiches for my brother Lord knows his wife
Jason strikes wildly against the thighs in his effort to free himself, jolts one leg off the bed so that it dangles there, disjointed and swinging, the long yellow to e nails scratching on the wooden floor. The four assistants seize Jason and wrench him forcibly away from the corpse of his dead wife. The body follows him punishingly in movement for a moment, as a sheet of paper will follow a comb after the comb has been run through hair; then, freed by its own weight, it falls back in a pile on the badly soiled sheets. The four men carry Jason to the table where his book still lies with its marker in it. They hold him up against the table and the police officer, without ceremony, pulls Jason ’ s genitals out flat on the tabletop and pounds them to a pulp with the butt of his gun.
He leaves Jason writhing on the floor and turns to march out, along with his four assistants. At the door he hesitates, then turns back to Jason. A flicker of compassion crosses his face.
“ You understand, of course, ” he says, “ that I am not, in the strictest sense, a traditionalist. I mean to say that I do not recognize tradition qua tradition as sanctified in its own sake. On the other hand, I do not join hands with those who find inherent in tradition some malignant evil, and who therefore deem it of terrible necessity that all custom be rooted out at all costs. I am personally convinced, if you will permit me, that there is a middle road, whereon we recognize that innovations find their best soil in traditions, which are justified in their own turn by the innovations which created them. I believe, then, that law and custom are essential, but that it is one ’ s constant task to review and revise them. In spite of that, however, some things still make me pu k e ! ” He turns, flushed, to his four assistants. “ Now get rid of that fucking corpse! ” he screams.
After wiping his pink brow with a handkerchief, he puts it to his nose and turns his back on the bed as the men drag away, by the feet, the unhinged body of Jason ’ s wife. The officer notices the book on the table, the book Jason has been reading, and walks over to pick it up. There is a slight spattering of blood on it. He flips through it hastily with one hand, the other still holding the hand kerchief to his nose, and although his face wears an expression of mild curiosity, it is difficult to know if it is sincere. The marker falls to the floor beside Jason. The officer replaces the book on the table and walks out of the room.
“ The marker! ” Jason gasps desperately, but the police officer does not hear him, nor does he want to.
○ ○? ○
3
The Brother
right there right there in the middle of the damn field he says he wants to put that thing together him and his buggy ideas and so me I says “ how the hell you gonna get it down to the water? ” but he just focuses me out sweepin the blue his eyes rollin like they do when he gets het on some new lunatic notion and he says not to worry none about that just would I help him for God ’ s sake and because he don ’ t know how he can get it done in time otherwise and though you ’ d have to be loonier than him to say yes I says I will of course I always would crazy as my brother is I ’ ve done little else since I was born and my wife she says “ I can ’ t figure it out I can ’ t sec why you always have to be babyin that old fool he ain ’ t never done nothin for you God knows and you got enough to do here fields need plowin it ’ s a bad enough year already my God and now that red-eyed brother of yours wingin around like a damn cloud and not knowin what in the world he ’ s doin buildin a damn boat in the country my God what next? you ’ re a damn fool I tell you ” but packs me some sandwiches just the same and some sandwiches for my brother Lord knows his wife
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