A vase shattered against the wall, inches above his head. In the next moment, a free-for-all was underway, with each couple battling to eject every other couple from the room. Fighting coalitions formed and dissolved with the lightning changes of the tactical situation. Em and Lou were thrown into the hall, where they organized others in the same situation, and stormed back into the room.
After two hours of struggle, with nothing like a decision in sight, the cops broke in.
For the next half-hour, patrol wagons and ambulances hauled away Schwartzes, and then the apartment was still and spacious.
An hour later, films of the last stages of the riot were being televised to 500,000,000 delighted viewers on the Eastern Seaboard.
In the stillness of the three-room Schwartz apartment on the 76th floor of Building 257, the television set had been left on. Once more the air was filled with the cries and grunts and crashes of the fray, coming harmlessly now from the loudspeaker.
The battle also appeared on the screen of the television set in the police station, where the Schwartzes and their captors watched with professional interest.
Em and Lou were in adjacent four-by-eight cells, and were stretched out peacefully on their cots.
"Em--" called Lou through the partition, "you got a washbasin all your own too?"
"Sure. Washbasin, bed, light--the works. Ha! And we thought Gramps' room was something. How long's this been going on?" She held out her hand. "For the first time in forty years, hon, I haven't got the shakes."
"Cross your fingers," said Lou, "the lawyer's going to try to get us a year."
"Gee," said Em dreamily, "I wonder what kind of wires you'd have to pull to get solitary?"
"All right, pipe down," said the turnkey, "or I'll toss the whole kit and caboodle of you right out. And first one who lets on to anybody outside how good jail is ain't never getting back in!"
The prisoners instantly fell silent.
The living room of the Schwartz apartment darkened for a moment, as the riot scenes faded, and then the face of the announcer appeared, like the sun coming from behind a cloud. "And now, friends," he said, "I have a special message from the makers of anti-gerasone, a message for all you folks over one hundred and fifty. Are you hampered socially by wrinkles, by stiffness of joints and discoloration or loss of hair, all because these things came upon you before anti-gerasone was developed? Well, if you are, you need no longer suffer, need no longer feel different and out of things.
"After years of research, medical science has now developed super-anti-gerosone! In weeks, yes weeks, you can look, feel, and act as young as your great-great-grandchildren! Wouldn't you pay $5,000 to be indistinguishable from everybody else? Well, you don't have to. Safe, tested super-anti-gerasone costs you only dollars a day. The average cost of regaining all the sparkle and attractiveness of youth is less than fifty dollars.
"Write now for your free trial carton. Just put your name and address on a dollar postcard, and mail it to 'Super,' Box 500,000, Schenectady, N.Y. Have you got that? I'll repeat it. 'Super.' Box..." Underlining the announcer's words was the scratching of Gramps' fountain-pen, the one Willy had given him the night before. He had come in a few minutes previous from the Idle Hour Tavern, which commanded a view of Building 257 across the square of asphalt known as the Alden Village Green. He had called a cleaning woman to come straighten the place up, and had hired the best lawyer in town to get his descendants a conviction. Gramps had then moved the daybed before the television screen so that he could watch from a reclining position. It was something he'd dreamed of doing for years.
"Schenec-ta-dy," mouthed Gramps: "Got it." His face had changed remarkably. His facial muscles seemed to have relaxed, revealing kindness and equanimity under what had been taut, bad-tempered lines. It was almost as though his trial package of Super-anti-gerasone had already arrived. When something amused him on television, he smiled easily, rather than barely managing to lengthen the thin line of his mouth a millimeter. Life was good. He could hardly wait to see what was going to happen next.
(1953)
DELL BOOKS BY KURT VONNEGUT
Bluebeard
Breakfast of Champions
Cat's Cradle
Deadeye Dick
Galapagos
God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater
Jailbird
Mother Night
Palm Sunday
Player Piano
The Sirens of Titan
Slapstick
Slaughterhouse-Five
Wampeters, Foma & Granfalloons
Welcome to the Monkey House
A DELTA BOOK
Published by
Dell Publishing
a division of
Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.
1540 Broadway
New York, New York 10036
Acknowledgment is made to the following magazines and publishers in whose pages these stories first appeared: The Atlantic Monthly: "Der Arme Dolmetscher" (originally published under the title "Das Ganz Arm Dolmetscher").
Collier's Magazine: "The Foster Portfolio," "All the King's Horses," "Tom Edison's Shaggy Dog," "More Stately Mansions," "Report on the Barnhouse Effect," "Epicac," and "The Euphio Question."
Cosmopolitan: "Next Door," "The Manned Missiles," and "Adam."
Esquire: "Deer in the Works."
Fantasy and Science Fiction Magazine: "Harrison Bergeron."
Galaxy Publishing Corporation: "Unready to Wear'' and "Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow" (originally published under the title "The Big Trip Up Yonder"). Ladies' Home Journal: "Long Walk to Forever," "D.P.," and "Go Back to Your Precious Wife and Son."
The New York Times: "New Dictionary" (originally published under the title "The Random House Dictionary").
Playboy: "Welcome to the Monkey House."
Saturday Evening Post: "Who Am I This Time?," "Miss Temptation," "The Lie," and "The Kid Nobody Could Handle."
Venture: "Where I Live" (originally published under the title "So You've Never Been to Barnstable").
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright (c) 1950, 1951, 1953, 1954, 1955, 1956, 1958, 1960, 1961, 1962, 1964, 1966, 1968 by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address: Delacorte Press/Seymour Lawrence, New York, New York.
The trademark Delta(r) is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.
www.randomhouse.com
eISBN: 978-0-30742344-3
v3.0
Kurt Vonnegut, Welcome to the Monkey House
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