Everywhere a huge, enveloping softness soft as face powder, soft as petticoats, soft as the snuff in a courtesan’s box. A bat broke loose from a belfry, a loaf broke loose from an oven, six chimes broke loose from a clock. A wounded tongue licked the shine off cathedral domes. At intervals along the boulevards, lamplighters set their gay fires. Stiff-legged nags, tiny harness bells jingling, dragged market carts toward the suburbs. Stiff-legged corks squeaked loose from bottlenecks where they’d stood guard since noon. Or else the blossoms were being tickled by the sleepy insects that were entering them as if they were hotels. Chestnut blossoms, weary from having been admired all day, wore faint smiles of anticipation with the approach of the private night. Pompadours of supper-time smoke billowed from chimneys, separating into girlish pigtails as the breeze combed them out, above the slate rooftops. A few flat clouds folded themselves like crepes over fillings of apricot sky.
I’m curious why you haven’t hadĮlements as cocaine, champagne, pussy, and chocolate.
Only this time ye must sit next to me to me left, would be proper, so’s I can rest me left hand on your tender thigh while I am liftin’ a sociable glass with me right.” “Wiggs?” “Yes, love?” “ You’ve had me to dinner, and now Marcel LeFever is coming. A week from tonight, I think, and ye must come. Morgenstern and I-he sends his regards, by the way- are planning another dinner party, if we can coax the university scientists away from their research for the CIA. Marcel ‘ Bunny’ LeFever has successfully buried his Uncle Luc and has aimed his wondrous nose again in our direction. Ye know what I mean?” “All too well.” “I do have good news. I would have called ye but ye haven’t a phone.” “ Don’t mock the afflicted.” “Or I would’ve dropped by, except I’ve been to New Orleans to deliver a certain vegetable. As fortunate as I am to be born an Irishman and thus possess a license to broadcast this brand o’ pseudolyrical bullshit, that’s how fortunate I am that you-I mean, ye- called. I couldn’t be happier was Alobar to be released from the nick, which, indeed, he may be next month, if it’s not too late. I couldn’t be happier was I to grow another eye, one that shines in the night like a wolfs eye and can twist on its stalk to look up a lassie’s skirt.
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