ended up being shot into his future, just like me.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He kept moving.
"Hey, asshole, why didn't you tell me what would happen if I hit him?"
People standing nearby stopped to stare at the old crazy fart in red, shouting down the street at a kid who was obviously trying to ignore him.
Page 60
"I'm talking to you!"
Gus was watching now, as were half the people on the sidewalk, but not Junior. If I'd had any legs under me I would have sprinted over and--Stopping, he put his hands on his hips and turned slowly. His face showed only disgust.
"Don't you get it yet? I can't do anything for you! You think I wouldn't have said something if I could? You think I want to be here? Are you really that stupid?"
"Then why _didn't _you tell me?"
"Be-cause-I-can't!"
We shouted at each other across that wide space. Sooner or later a cop was bound to appear and it was sooner. Police in Vienna wear green uniforms and white caps that make them look more like crossing guards than police. This dude was husky, wore a matching husky moustache and an attitude you could
smell in five different languages. He chose to interrogate me. The prick-- he had to pick on an old weak man. In red.
"Na, was ist?"
"What's the problem, officer?" Probably because I answered in English and didn't hesitate looking him in the eye, his expression downshifted to sullen and confused--a bad combination if you're on the receiving end with a cop.
He responded in limping, phrase-book English. "Why do you screaming?
It is not allowed to scream so in Wee-ena."
"I'm not. I'm calling my grandson." I pointed at Junior. I hoped the cop would see the family resemblance. The kid shrugged. The cop pursed his lips and moustache hairs went up into his nose. Out of the corner of my eye Gus
Gould came hotfooting over toward us. He must have thought I was completely bonkers.
The cop's nametag said Lumplecker. I paused a moment to digest that and stop myself from laughing out loud. "Officer Lumplecker?"
"Ja?"
"What year is it?"
"Bitte?"
"The year. This year, now. What's today's date?"
Eumplecker shot me a lumpy look, like I was trying to pull a fast one on him.
"I do not understand you. My English is poor. Here is your friend. You may ask him your questions."
"Come on, Frannie, we gotta get to the cafe." Gus nudged me with his hip while smiling a lot of Page 61
old yellow teeth at patrolman Lumpy. Some bystander in leather shorts and green knee socks nearby said, _"Was ist mil ihm?" _The cop turned his annoyed attention at this unsuspecting Fritz and started shouting at him in machine-gun German.
Gus and I drifted off without saying so much as an _auf wiedersehn._
"What's the matter with you this morning, Frannie? Are you on drugs?
Did you take something?"
My father used to ask me that question when I was young and permanently in trouble. "Are you _on _something?" was his way of putting it. He hoped I was so there would be a valid excuse for my detestable behavior. And if he could somehow get me "off," I'd return to normal again. Fat chance. At the time the only drug I was on was me.
"Wait a minute! How come you can see him?" I pointed at Junior ten feet away.
Gus unwrapped a piece of gum and put it in his mouth. "How can I _see _him?
Why wouldn't I?"
I walked to the boy. "Why can he see you now? Back in Crane's View you said no one could see you but me and the cat."
"Because we're both in the wrong time slot now. Neither of us belongs here."
It was spring. Girls passed in sherbet-colored summer dresses, their perfumes wiggling come-hither fingers at your sense of smell. I might have been old as hell but my nose still worked. Couples strolled slowly from here to nowhere enjoying the warm weather. Street musicians played everything from classical guitars to musical saws.
Vienna. Austria. Mozart. Freud. Wienerwald. Sacher Torte. I'd not gone there even when I had the travel bug because I'd never had the
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He kept moving.
"Hey, asshole, why didn't you tell me what would happen if I hit him?"
People standing nearby stopped to stare at the old crazy fart in red, shouting down the street at a kid who was obviously trying to ignore him.
Page 60
"I'm talking to you!"
Gus was watching now, as were half the people on the sidewalk, but not Junior. If I'd had any legs under me I would have sprinted over and--Stopping, he put his hands on his hips and turned slowly. His face showed only disgust.
"Don't you get it yet? I can't do anything for you! You think I wouldn't have said something if I could? You think I want to be here? Are you really that stupid?"
"Then why _didn't _you tell me?"
"Be-cause-I-can't!"
We shouted at each other across that wide space. Sooner or later a cop was bound to appear and it was sooner. Police in Vienna wear green uniforms and white caps that make them look more like crossing guards than police. This dude was husky, wore a matching husky moustache and an attitude you could
smell in five different languages. He chose to interrogate me. The prick-- he had to pick on an old weak man. In red.
"Na, was ist?"
"What's the problem, officer?" Probably because I answered in English and didn't hesitate looking him in the eye, his expression downshifted to sullen and confused--a bad combination if you're on the receiving end with a cop.
He responded in limping, phrase-book English. "Why do you screaming?
It is not allowed to scream so in Wee-ena."
"I'm not. I'm calling my grandson." I pointed at Junior. I hoped the cop would see the family resemblance. The kid shrugged. The cop pursed his lips and moustache hairs went up into his nose. Out of the corner of my eye Gus
Gould came hotfooting over toward us. He must have thought I was completely bonkers.
The cop's nametag said Lumplecker. I paused a moment to digest that and stop myself from laughing out loud. "Officer Lumplecker?"
"Ja?"
"What year is it?"
"Bitte?"
"The year. This year, now. What's today's date?"
Eumplecker shot me a lumpy look, like I was trying to pull a fast one on him.
"I do not understand you. My English is poor. Here is your friend. You may ask him your questions."
"Come on, Frannie, we gotta get to the cafe." Gus nudged me with his hip while smiling a lot of Page 61
old yellow teeth at patrolman Lumpy. Some bystander in leather shorts and green knee socks nearby said, _"Was ist mil ihm?" _The cop turned his annoyed attention at this unsuspecting Fritz and started shouting at him in machine-gun German.
Gus and I drifted off without saying so much as an _auf wiedersehn._
"What's the matter with you this morning, Frannie? Are you on drugs?
Did you take something?"
My father used to ask me that question when I was young and permanently in trouble. "Are you _on _something?" was his way of putting it. He hoped I was so there would be a valid excuse for my detestable behavior. And if he could somehow get me "off," I'd return to normal again. Fat chance. At the time the only drug I was on was me.
"Wait a minute! How come you can see him?" I pointed at Junior ten feet away.
Gus unwrapped a piece of gum and put it in his mouth. "How can I _see _him?
Why wouldn't I?"
I walked to the boy. "Why can he see you now? Back in Crane's View you said no one could see you but me and the cat."
"Because we're both in the wrong time slot now. Neither of us belongs here."
It was spring. Girls passed in sherbet-colored summer dresses, their perfumes wiggling come-hither fingers at your sense of smell. I might have been old as hell but my nose still worked. Couples strolled slowly from here to nowhere enjoying the warm weather. Street musicians played everything from classical guitars to musical saws.
Vienna. Austria. Mozart. Freud. Wienerwald. Sacher Torte. I'd not gone there even when I had the travel bug because I'd never had the
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