The Bell Tolls for No One

  “It’s great, Harry.”

  “OK. Now you walk over to the whore and get that breast out from under the broken shoulder strap. Pull it out. I’m gonna hand this jerk-off this glass full of my piss. You hold that cigar next to the nipple of the lady’s breast. And if this jerk-off doesn’t drink all of this piss down to the very last drop, I want you to burn that nipple off with that cigar. Understand?”

  I got it. I walked around and pulled out Mrs. Maxson’s breast. I felt dizzy looking at it—never had I seen anything like that.

  Harry handed Tom Maxson the glass of piss. Maxson looked over at his wife and tilted the glass and began to drink. The blond was trembling all over. It felt so good to hold her breast. The yellow piss was going down the newscaster’s throat. He stopped a moment at about the halfway mark. He looked sick.

  “All of it,” said Harry. “Go ahead, it’s good to the last drop.”

  Maxson put the glass to his lips and drained the remainder. The glass fell from his hand.

  “I still think you’re a couple of cheap punks,” gasped Maxson.

  I was still standing there holding the blond’s breast. She yanked it away.

  “Tom,” said the blond, “will you please stop antagonizing these men? You’re doing the most foolish thing possible!”

  “Oh, playing the winners, eh? Is that why you married me? Because I was a winner?”

  “Of course that’s why she married you, asshole,” said Harry. “Look at that fat gut on you. Did you think it was for your body?”

  “I’ve got something,” said Maxson. “That’s why I’m Number One in newscasting. You don’t do that on luck.”

  “But if she hadn’t married Number One,” said Harry, “she would have married Number Two.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Tom,” said the blond.

  “It’s all right,” said Maxson, “I know you love me.”

  “Thank you, Daddy,” said the blond.

  “It’s all right, Nana.”

  “’Nana,’” said Harry. “I like that name, ‘Nana.’ That’s class. Class and ass. That’s what the rich get while we get the scrubwomen.”

  “Why don’t you join the Communist Party?” asked Maxson.

  “Man, I don’t care to wait centuries for something that might not finally work. I want it now.”

  “Look, Harry,” I said, “all we’re doing is standing around and holding conversations with these people. That doesn’t get us anything. I don’t care what they think. Let’s get the loot and split. The longer we stay, the sooner we draw the heat.”

  “Now, Eddie,” he answered, “that’s the first good bit of sense I’ve heard you speak in five or six years.”

  “I don’t care,” said Maxson. “You’re just the weak feeding off the strong. If I weren’t here, you’d hardly exist. You remind me of people who go around assassinating political and spiritual leaders. It’s the worst kind of cowardice; it’s the easiest thing to do with the least talent available. It comes from hatred and envy; it comes from rancor and bitterness and ultimate stupidity; it comes from the lowest scale of the human ladder; it stinks and it reeks and it makes me ashamed to belong to the same tribe.”

  “Boy,” said Harry, “that was some speech. Even piss can’t stop your flow of bullshit. You’re one spoiled turd. You realize how many people out there are on this earth without a chance? Because of where and how they were born? Because they had no education? Because they never had anything and never will have and nobody gives a fuck, and you marry the best body you can find, your age be damned?”

  “Take your loot and go,” said Maxson. “All you bastards who never make it have some alibi.”

  “Oh, wait,” said Harry, “everything counts. “We’re making it now. You don’t quite understand.”

  “Tom,” said the blond, “just give them the money, the jewelry . . . let them go . . . please get off Channel 7.”

  “It’s not Channel 7, Nana. It’s letting them know. I’ve got to let them know.”

  “Eddie,” said Harry,” check the bathroom. Bring back some adhesive tape.”

  I walked down the hall and found the bathroom. In the medicine cabinet was a wide roll of adhesive. Harry made me nervous. I never knew what he was going to do. I brought the tape back into the bedroom. Harry was yanking the phone cord out of the wall. “OK,” he told me, “shut off Channel 7.”

  I got it. I taped his mouth good.

  “Now, the hands, the hands in the back,” said Harry.

  He walked over to Nana, pulled out both of her breasts and looked at them. Then he spit in her face. She wiped it off with the bedsheet.

  “OK,” he said, “now this one. Get the mouth, but leave the hands loose. I like a little fight.”

  I fixed her up.

  Harry got Tom Maxson turned on his side in his bed; he had her facing Nana.

  He walked over and got one of Maxson’s cigars and lit it. “I guess Maxson’s right,” said Harry. “We are the suckerfish. We are the maggots. We are the slime, and maybe the cowards.”

  He took a good pull on the cigar.

  “It’s yours, Eddie.”

  “Harry, I can’t.”

  “You can. You don’t know how. You’ve never been taught how. No education. I’m your teacher. She’s yours. It’s simple.”

  “You do it, Harry.”

  “No. She’ll mean more to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re such a simple asshole.”

  I walked over to her bed. She was so beautiful and I was so ugly I felt as if my whole body was smeared with a layer of shit.

  “Go on,” said Harry, “get it on, asshole.”

  “Harry, I’m scared. It’s not right; she’s not mine.”

  “She’s yours.”

  “Why?”

  “Look at it like a war. We won this war. We’ve killed all their machos, all their big-timers, all their heroes. There’s nothing left but women and children. We kill the children and sent the old women up the road. We are the conquering army. All that’s left is their women. And the most beautiful woman is all ours . . . is yours. She’s helpless. Take her.”

  I walked up and pulled back the covers. It was as if I had died and was suddenly in heaven, and there was this magical creature in front of me. I took her negligee and ripped it completely off.

  “Fuck her, Eddie!”

  All the curves were absolutely where they were supposed to be. They were there and beyond. It was like beautiful skies; it was like beautiful rivers flowing. I just wanted to look. I was afraid. I stood there, this horn of a thing in front of me. I had no rights.

  “Go ahead,” said Harry. “Fuck her! She’s the same as any other woman. She plays games, tells lies. She’ll be an old woman someday, and other young girls will replace her. She’ll even die. Fuck her while she’s still there!”

  I pulled at the shoulders, trying to gather her to me. She had gotten strength from somewhere. She pushed against me, pulling her head back. She was completely repulsed.

  “Listen, Nana, I really don’t want to do this . . . but I do. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. I want you and I’m ashamed.”

  She made a sound through the adhesive on her mouth and pushed against me. She was so beautiful. I didn’t deserve that. Her eyes looked into mine. They said what I was thinking. I had no human right.

  “Go ahead,” said Harry, “slam it to her! She’ll love it.”

  “I can’t do it, Harry.”

  “All right,” he said, “you watch Channel 7 then.”

  I walked over and sat next to Tom Maxson. We sat side-by-side on his bed. He was making small sounds through the adhesive. Harry walked over to the other bed. “All right, whore, I guess I’ll have to impregnate you.”

  Nana leaped out of bed and ran toward the door. Harry caught her by the hair, spun her and slapped her hard across the face. She fell against the wall and slid down. Harry pulled her up by the hair and hit her again. Maxson made a louder soun
d through his adhesive and leaped up. He ran over and butted Harry with his head. Harry gave him a chop along the back of the neck, and Maxson dropped.

  “Tape the hero’s ankles,” he told me.

  I bound Maxson’s feet and shoved him onto his bed.

  “Sit him up,” said Harry. “I want him to watch.”

  “Look, Harry,” I said, “let’s get out of here. The longer we stay—”

  “Shut up!”

  Harry dragged the blond back to the bed. She still had on a pair of panties. He ripped them off and threw them at Maxson. The panties fell at his feet. Maxson moaned and began to struggle. I punched him a hard one, deep into the belly.

  Harry took off his pants and undershorts.

  “Whore,” he said to the blond, “I’m gonna sink this thing deep into you and you’re going to feel it and there’s nothing you can do. You’ll take all of it! And I’m going to cream deep inside of you!”

  He had her on her back; she was still struggling. He hit her again, hard. Her head fell back. He spread her legs. He tried to work his cock in. He was having trouble.

  “Loosen up, bitch; I know you want it! Lift your legs!”

  He hit her hard, twice. The legs rose.

  “That’s better, whore!”

  Harry poked and poked. Finally, he penetrated. He moved it in and out, slowly.

  Maxson began moaning and moving again. I sank another one into his belly.

  Harry began to get up a rhythm. The blond groaned as if in pain.

  “You like it, don’t you, whore? It’s better turkeyneck than your old man ever gave you, ain’t it? Feel it growing?”

  I couldn’t stand it. I stood up, took out my cock and began masturbating.

  Harry was ramming the blond so hard that her head was bouncing. Then he slapped her and pulled out.

  “Not yet, whore. I’m taking my time.”

  He walked over to where Tom Maxson was sitting.

  “Look at the SIZE of that thing! And I’m going to put it back into her now and come right inside her, Tommy boy! You’ll never be able to make love to your Nana without thinking of me! Without thinking of this!”

  Harry put his cock right into Maxson’s face. “And I may have her suck me off after I’m finished!”

  Then he turned, went back to the other bed and mounted the blond. He slapped her again and began pumping wildly.

  “You cheap, stinking whore, I’m going to come!”

  Then: “Oh, shit! OH, MY GOD! Oh, oh, oh!”

  He fell down against Nana and lay there. After a moment he pulled out. Then he looked over at me. “Sure you don’t want some?”

  “No thanks, Harry.”

  Harry began to laugh. “Look at you, fool, you’ve whacked off!” Harry got back into his pants, laughing.

  “All right,” he said, “tape up her hands and ankles. We’re getting out of here.”

  I walked over and taped her up.

  “But, Harry, how about the money and jewels?”

  “We’ll take his wallet. I want to get out of here. I’m nervous.”

  “But, Harry, let’s take it all.”

  “No,” he said, “just the wallet. Check his trousers. Just take the money.”

  I found the wallet.

  “There’s only $83 here, Harry.”

  “We’ll take it and we leave. I’m nervous. I feel something in the air. We have to go.”

  “Shit, Harry, that’s no haul. We can really clean them out!”

  “I told you: I’m nervous. I feel trouble coming. You can stay. I’m leaving.”

  I followed him down the stairway.

  “That son of a bitch will think twice before he insults anybody again,” said Harry.

  We found the window we had jimmied open and left the same way. We walked through the garden and out the iron gate.

  “All right,” said Harry, “ we walk at a casual gait. Light a cigarette. Try to look normal.”

  “Why are you so nervous, Harry?”

  “Shut up!”

  We walked four blocks. The car was still there. Harry took the wheel and we drove off.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “The Guild Theatre?”

  “What’s playing?”

  “Black Silk Stockings, with Annette Haven.”

  The place was down on Lankershim. We parked and got out. Harry bought the tickets. We walked in.

  “Popcorn?” I asked Harry.

  “No.”

  “I want some.”

  “Get it.”

  Harry waited until I got the popcorn, large. We found some seats near the back. We were in luck. The feature was just beginning.

  Flying is the Safest Way to Travel

  Eddie and Vince, they sat in two seats at the back of the airliner. They were in their early forties. They were dressed in cheap suits, no neckties, wash-and-wear shirts, unshined shoes.

  “That stewardess, Vince, the short one with the great legs, I’d like to have that one. Just look at her ass!”

  “Naw,” said Vince, “I like the tall one. I like her nose and her lips, her stringy uncombed hair. She reminds me of a drunken slut who doesn’t know where she’s at.”

  “She doesn’t have any breasts, man.”

  “I don’t care.”

  The plane ran through a bank of clouds and they watched the white threads, smoky, rolling around out there. Then they were back in the sunlight.

  “Eddie, are we going to do it?”

  “Why not?”

  Vince finished his drink and sat it on the seat tray in front of him. “It’s dumb.”

  “All right. Forget it. I’ll do it alone.”

  “I think it’s dumb, Eddie. Let’s not do it.”

  “Vince, you don’t have the guts of a rabbit.” Eddie finished his drink, put the empty container on Vince’s seat tray, folded his tray and locked it into the back of the seat in front of him. Then he stood up, stepped into the aisle, pulled at the handle of the overhead compartment and extracted a very fat briefcase. He closed the compartment and sat down again with the briefcase on his lap.

  “All right, Vince. You with me or not?”

  “Look, Eddie, think it over . . . ”

  “You with me or not?”

  “All right, all right . . . ”

  Eddie reached down by the seat arm, pressed the little button with the design of the stewardess upon it and waited.

  “Eddie, don’t do it. Let’s just order a couple of drinks.”

  It took three or four minutes but the stewardess arrived. It was the one with the great legs.

  “Yes, sir, did you ring?”

  “What’s your name, stewardess?”

  “Vivian.”

  “Vivian, I want you to lean forward because I want to whisper something to you that the other passengers shouldn’t hear.”

  “Sir, I’m very busy . . . ”

  “I’d suggest you do as I say. It’s very important.”

  The stewardess leaned forward.

  “Now, Vivian,” Eddie whispered, “this briefcase you see sitting here on my lap has enough TNT in it to blow your goddamned legs off and your goddamned ass off, plus all your other parts . . . ”

  The stewardess just stared at Eddie.

  “And, there’s enough here to blow off all my precious parts and also all the parts of everybody on this plane. You will now escort me and my friend up to your Flight Captain and his co-pilot.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the stewardess.

  “Come on, buddy,” Eddie said to Vince.

  The stewardess walked up the aisle and the men followed her. They walked through first class and then entered the flight compartment. The three of them stood behind the pilots.

  “Captain Henderson . . . ” the stewardess began.

  “Captain Henderson,” said Eddie, “you will not send out any radio calls nor will you answer any radio calls.”

  “Take control, Marty,” Henderson said to the co-pilot.

&n
bsp; Then he turned. “Now, what the hell . . . ”

  “Well, look at the Captain,” said Eddie. “He’s fat, isn’t he?”

  “Sure is,” said Vince.

  “Hey, boy,” Eddie spoke to the Captain, “you’re a little bit fat, aren’t you?”

  Captain Henderson didn’t answer. He looked at Eddie with the briefcase. Eddie’s right hand was under the upper flap.

  “Now, Captain, I asked you a question!”

  “Well, I might be ten or fifteen pounds overweight.”

  “Looks more like twenty. Drink a lot of beer?”

  “Look, what the hell is this?”

  “How much beer do you drink, fat boy?”

  “When I’m off duty, five or six bottles.”

  “It might be a pleasure to blow some of that lard off of you. Now, you, co-pilot, what’s your name?”

  “Marty. Marty Parsons.”

  “You just keep this thing on course for New York City, you hear me?”

  “I hear.”

  “Now my friend here, Vince, he doesn’t say much. I’m the leader and he’s the crazy one. He has the old suicide complex. It runs in the family. Hey, Vince, tell them about your brother.”

  “Eddie, these people don’t want to hear about that.”

  “Go on, tell them. I want them to know how it runs in the family.”

  “What is this?” asked Vivian. “Do we have to listen to little stories up here?”

  “Shut up, bitch! Now go ahead and tell the story, Eddie.”

  “Well, I had this brother. His name was Dan. He wasn’t very happy . . . ”

  “Look,” asked Captain Henderson, “what do you people want anyhow?”

  “We’ll get to that soon enough. I want to hear the story. Go ahead, Eddie . . . ”

  “Well, my brother wasn’t very happy. He decided to kill himself. He jumped out of a second story window. He wanted to land on the sidewalk but he didn’t . . . ”

  “O.k. Where did he land, Vince?”

  “Well, he didn’t hit the sidewalk. He landed on an old iron-spiked fence, on his side . . . ”

  “Go ahead, Vince . . . ”

  “The ambulance crew got there and he was stuck on his side with fourteen iron pickets in his side. So the one attendant said, ‘We have to get him off of there right away.’ But the other attendant said, ‘No, that will kill him for sure.’ Nobody knew what to do . . . ”