Are You Listening, Rabbi Löw

  ‘Trousers is the expression we use in England Schultz. Pants are for ladies. But Schultz, we should so hate to see you go. I do really mean it, all joking aside. Rebecca please. Tell Mr Schultz how we should miss him were he to leave us.’

  ‘We would be very sad, Mr Schultz.’

  The sun warmly in through the windows. Sound of a pigeon cooing on the sill. Drips of thawing snow outside splattering. Binky Sunningdale raising his glass of sherry to the light. Schultz turning to Rebecca.

  ‘Rebecca I believe you. But I don’t believe him. Out of him I’m going to sue the living fucking shit.’

  ‘Ah here I am distrusted once again. How does one make oneself convincing that I have no evil intent. Have a spot more sherry. And dear me Schultz the loneliness would be distressing after you were gone. No one tearing their hair out. Slamming down and breaking phones. No screams and shouts. No long distance calls to Antarctica concerning Eskimo touring rights. I mean how little we have here anyway to occupy our minds except counting the presently bountiful box office money.’

  ‘You’re going to be counting writs Binky from now on. Believe me. And the fucking world is going to know that nobody but nobody chisels Sigmund Franz Isadore Schultz and gets away with it.’

  ‘Don’t Schultz trip over the carpet.’

  Rebecca handing over the mid day mail to Binky as Schultz on his feet, parcels cradled in his arm heads towards the open door, and swings it shut with a slam. His slippered feet pounding away down the hall. Distant phones ringing. Another door slamming. And suddenly an agonized loud scream. Binky and Rebecca rushing out into the hall. And a cry coming out through the door of the water closet.

  ‘My god Rebecca what’s this now reverberating through our little firm of Sperm Productions. It does sound awfully like our esteemed fellow director Izzy Schultz is screaming in the chairman’s crapper.’

  ‘You bet your fucking ass it’s me in here.’

  ‘Good lord Rebecca and it sounds as if he may have fallen down the toilet bowl. And is being sucked away by the flush. Dear me even echoes are coming back from the buildings across the street.’

  ‘It’s coming from out of in here you fucker.’

  ‘O my dear, he does still go on screaming. Do get the first aid kit. Here we go again.’

  Rebecca running down the hall. Past three secretaries wide eyed in the reception room doorway. Binky pressing his ear to the lavatory door.

  ‘Is that really you Schultz in there, screaming. In this highly feminine manner.’

  ‘It’s fucking well me Binky. I’m in agony, I can’t move.’

  ‘Dear me. You mean your bowels are stuck.’

  ‘I don’t mean my fucking bowels are stuck.’

  ‘What then on earth may I enquire is the difficulty.’

  ‘My balls are stuck. Caught in the fucking zipper of my fly. Of these god damn fucking new pants I just bought in Jermyn Street. I’ll sue the fuckers who made a zip like this like a guillotine. I can’t get my balls free. The skin’s caught. Every time I move a fraction of an inch the pain is killing me.’

  ‘Stand your ground my dear man. Be brave. Hold tight to your testicles. We are to the rescue. I did think by your screaming you were conferring with your lawyers in there.’

  ‘Come on Binky. I’m in agony.’

  ‘The door my dear chap. Get away from the door. So we may open it. And view the little problem.’

  ‘I told you already I can’t move.’

  ‘The door Schultz opens inwards.’

  ‘I know it opens inwards.’

  ‘Well you must then get back out of the way. Or else we shall have to pull it down. I say Rebecca. This is a bit of devilment isn’t it. You don’t suppose our Schultz is in there presuming upon our sympathies and having a joke upon us.’

  ‘You fucking bastard Binky I hear you out there. I got to have relief you fucker. These are my jewels, there’s blood dripping already with the fucking zip caught in them.’

  ‘Rebecca do summon the stage carpenters from the theatre. Don’t tell them it’s old Schultzy boy who’s got his testicles in a mangle as that might delay them rejoicing and also mean they may not come.’

  ‘They better come. And hey jesus meanwhile I got to wait in here in pain and agony.’

  ‘Be British Schultz. Stop whining in there.’

  ‘I could lose my fucking balls.’

  ‘Dear me, Schultz you mustn’t worry so. With organ transplanting these days, chaps will knit a new pair on you in what, as his Lordship might say, is commonly known as a jiffy. They of course may not jangle and ring with the pure tone of your originals but should be entirely serviceable. Who knows they might have a spare pair in the organ bank discarded by a member of the peerage. Imagine a pair soon of lordly balls. And what they might do for your love life. Not to mention your social status. And dear me also imagine we could end up having to refer to you as Lord Schultz. Bang bang and your wife could have little honourables. Indeed you could go bang bang bang all over the ruddy place, as lords are rarely denied indulging their appetites.’

  ‘O boy have I got a lot to get even with you for. Jesus added up it goes to the skies. Get Rebecca to ring my lawyer and get him over here as a witness. These tailor sons of bitches who did this to me are not going to get away with this, whoever invented fucking zippers in the first place.’

  ‘Surely Schultz it’s you who have zippered your own balls up. One is beginning to think that you may yet soon catch your inflated prick in a tiny paper clip. Ah but you can at least depend upon me to witness this mischief for you. Amazing to say this office has just made a purchase of the most marvellous video camera.’

  ‘Like shit am I going to let you witness anything or take moving pictures of my fucking private parts.’

  ‘Have it your own way Schultz but we could show all in full action replay. Our assistant stage carpenter, who should be here any second, ripping the door out. Then with our wide angled lens zooming in to the testicles for an appropriate close up shot of the zipper locked securely upon your gonads. Even have an appropriate sound track of your agonized screams. Very effective in court. And wonderful headlines Schultz. In the first edition evening paper. Zipper Zaps Balls of the Producer of Kiss It Don’t Hold It It’s Too Hot. Or should the show be renamed, Kiss It Don’t Zipper It, It’s Too Painful. You know we did have a boy at school who was trying to fuck a milk bottle. Like you he got stuck. Poor little chap had to be removed to hospital to get it off him.’

  ‘This is no joke Binky in here. I’m serious. I’ll sue this fucking office for this door opening the wrong way and will wipe that laugh out of your throat. There’s blood. O god this is terrible in here.’

  ‘Ah and we’re not joking Schultz. In fact we’re reorganizing our office. We’re coming to grips in the recognition that certain situations and company structure require a clarity of decision making in order to accomplish objectives. And especially to avoid such things as selling to the lowest bidder. And meanwhile I’m afraid bad news Schultz, your lawyer’s already in court for the day. Shall we call for an ambulance.’

  ‘No I need Jorricks. Get Jorricks.’

  ‘Ah Schultz of course. We should have thought of that. Just the chap to lovingly and gently bandage up your balls for you. We’ll tell him to bring plenty of celluloid tape. But hold on now our number one assistant carpenter is here. Ran all the way from the theatre. Good job he was on the job.’

  His fingertips pressed in prayer Binky surveying the carpenter laying out his tools on the floor. Taking a saw serrated at the end and beginning to saw through the door along the door frame of the water closet. Schultz hanging on to the edge of the sink. Blood on the fingertips. O my god Rabbi save me. Save my testicles I beseech you. Jesus and they get a carpenter who would have to be the most smart alec little son of a bitch to saw down the door.

  ‘Mr Schultz if you can just move an inch further back I can saw out a hole so we can reach you.’

  ‘Hurry. Hurry. I’m contor
ted bent over in agony in here.’

  The front entrance hall of Sperm Productions now crowded with secretaries, assistants and the day’s supply of ventriloquists, singers, actresses, magicians and musicologists and the usual plethora of female theatrical hopefuls several of whom were accompanied by their mothers. His Lordship entering, shotgun cases in either hand and stopping at his own adjacent office door.

  ‘Dear me, what’s going on Binky.’

  ‘Ah Lord Nectarine. How nice to see you. Yes a spot of bother I’m afraid. In there in the water closet has occurred a little difficulty. I fear the door shall have to be pulled out. Hope it won’t inconvenience you.’

  ‘Seems a perfectly good door Binky why doesn’t someone simply open it.’

  ‘Ah good question your Royal Grace. But the fact of the matter is, old Schultzy boy poor chap, is inside there and has irretrievably caught up his balls in a zipper and can’t pee, shit or apparently move.’

  ‘And, you bastards out there. I’m going fucking blind from the pain.’

  Lord Nectarine, wearing two ties, one knotted on top of another, dropping both shotgun cases and grabbing his hands to his stomach as he slowly sinks to the floor on his knees. An eruption of laughter from his lips, and gasping out words between guffaws.

  ‘Oh my god, O my god, Schultz you do, you do really, take the fucking cake.’

  We really must

  Must

  Find a

  Zoo

  For you

  6

  The cut out centre of the sawn grey panelled water closet door falling out into the front main hall of Sperm Productions. A gathering of show biz hopefuls clustering around. Binky peering in at Schultz in his green striped pyjama top, bare arsed bent over double. One supporting bloody hand clutched on the wash basin and the other propped back on the lavatory seat. Binky leaning further in over the bulkhead.

  ‘O my god Schultz. It does appear you really are in a dilemma. A doctor and an ambulance should be here any second. Indeed I hear a gong in the street. That may be them already.’

  ‘O jesus they got to get to me before I’m dead from suffering.’ ‘They will, they will my dear chap. If you can but be British about it and sustain for another few moments. And my word what attractive looking trousers.’

  Two white coated ambulance men arriving puffing up the stairs, a stretcher in tow. A young doctor following. Several frightened mothers and their starlet daughters squeezing in a crunch to rapidly exit out the door as someone in the crowded reception room said a murder had been committed and the corpse was being removed.

  The ambulance men and the doctor making a bee line for his contorted Lordship still on the floor half way in and half out of his office door. Still holding his stomach, both shotgun cases clutched between his knees. The medical men struggling to unravel him as more guffaws emitted from the lordly lips, being that his Royal Grace was ticklish in the extreme. Binky turning around from the water closet to the new higher pitch of laughter.

  ‘Dear me no, my good chaps. Not him. That’s our dear old Lord Nectarine. This way. In there. Him.’

  Jorricks’s raincoat blanketing Schultz in his new tight tapered trousers, contorted knees up on the stretcher, being lugged out the hall. Rebecca alongside carrying his remaining parcels. A still convulsed Lord Nectarine now in his office draped across the top of his desk clutching his stomach. Binky filming with his video camera. Schultz groaning, a blood drenched hand held up over his eyes as the ambulance men manoeuvred him slowly down around the narrow four flights of stairs. Binky descending in the lift and waiting on the pavement, stationing himself with the little crowd gathered on the street to watch this anonymous celebrity be carried towards the blue light flashing on the ambulance and its back doors waiting open.

  ‘Come on Schultz don’t be a meanie, before they take you away, smile once for the camera.’

  ‘Don’t think I’ll forget this, Binky.’

  ‘Dear me Schultz it’s why I’m going to all this trouble to make this superbly directed film of you that we may watch again and again.’

  Binky waving a fingertip goodbye to Schultz disappearing head first into this vehicle of mercy. The doors shutting and klaxon blaring as it turns the corner and speeds away. Rumbling over the melting bumps of ice. Oxygen tanks and blankets. Jeez maybe it’s not compassion but at least this doctor seems to have a smile of encouraging sympathy on his face. Fucking Binky and his Lordship couldn’t control their joy. And just like Al they’re taking me away. Only that bastard probably had his old withered balls still on. O my god recently I come out of a conflagration and now I promptly enter straight into utter humiliation. Lesson thirteen in my life. Never pull a zipper in anger. What the fuck is happening to my existence to reduce it to such a shambles. That money should now be overflowing out of my pockets and this gets to happen to me. When living on my wits having no money did nothing to me anywhere near as bad. Except I committed suicide getting married. Binky is out to ruin me and the show. I’ll murder the cunt if he thinks he’s going to hire away talent that I found and nurtured and made into feted West End stars. He better remember I fucking well found Magillacurdy sleeping in a graveyard when he had only the urn on the next grave to piss in. I can’t believe it. Joe Jewels that cobra. Swallowed me like a god damn innocent mouse. Maybe success has blinded me to man’s inhumanity to man. Could have got another one percent out of him plus another forty five thousand. Holy shit, given their chance every human being in the world will pull a fast one and then turn against you. It makes you fucking wonder how you can survive to grow up even to be only twelve years old when I first got desperate to get laid, and all I could do was to go on pulling it, not realizing you could shove it somewhere softer than your hand. But this battle is not over yet. And the winners are going to be different let me tell you in no shit terms. And one winner is known by the middle names of Franz Isadore. And that’s fucking gospel by Schultz.

  The ambulance arriving at the curved entrance under the portico, of Celestial Pavilion Hospital. The attendants lifting out the stretcher to put it on a trolley and wheeling it into Casualty. Amid the disinfecting smells, moans and groans. O my god back in this place again who would believe it. This is how a trolley ride could start to the crematorium as it’s already done for Al. Christ even going down the same hall. Christ it must be bad. They’re taking me straight to an operating room. At least this looks like a nice dark complexioned

  Indian doc. Ought to ask him if he can find me an Indian wife who might not ever love me but if I feed, clothe and give her a place to sleep at least she might work, screw, keep her mouth shut and obey. And failing that I think the time has come I got to urgent find a psychiatrist who can cure me of fucking.

  ‘Will you sign this sir.’

  ‘Jesus what is it.’

  ‘We are giving you an anaesthetic sir to operate. Now if you’ll just let us put this over your mouth and count to ten sir.’

  ‘Jesus no.’

  ‘It will only be a little gas sir. I’m afraid you have caught a considerable amount of flesh in the zip. And in such a sensitive area it could be quite painful.’

  ‘I’m not going to be unconscious if it’s the last thing I do.’

  ‘Believe me Mr Schultz it’s going to be much better that way. We have to make a cut.’

  ‘Holy jeez a cut.’

  ‘Yes. To incise the skin free.’

  ‘Can’t you tear the zipper apart and release me to freedom.’

  ‘I’m afraid Mr Schultz it would also tear your scrotum.’

  ‘This is a choice like do you want to die by guillotine or hanging.’ ‘I’m afraid so Mr Schultz.’

  ‘OK hang me.’

  Sound of washing. Rubber gloves snapping on. A figure entering the room. A voice vaguely familiar. Or in this terrible panic am I losing my mind. And Jorricks was meeting me with the car and will wonder where the fuck I am. The word incise could also mean in any decent dictionary, cleave, split or gash. These lights
are blinding. Christ almighty. Who’s this looking at me now. It can’t be. But shit and shinola it is. The Matron.

  ‘Good heavens not you again.’

  ‘It’s me Matron.’

  ‘And to what do we owe this little surprise.’

  ‘Oh jesus Matron do I have to say it in so many words.’

  ‘Not if you don’t want to. Mr Kahn will supply details when he is finished scrubbing up.’

  ‘They’re going to give me gas.’

  ‘Ah Mr Kahn what’s our little trouble here.’

  ‘Well Matron I’m afraid the patient has rather unfortunately caught part of his lower region in a zipper.’

  ‘Oh dear let me see.’

  ‘Jesus Matron this is embarrassing.’

  ‘You mustn’t be embarrassed, it isn’t as if yours are the first testicles I’ve ever seen. And it is isn’t it, the Mr Schultz, the impresario. That one has the honour of speaking to.’

  ‘Jesus Matron don’t call me names. Maybe you should be dealing with Mr Duke.’

  Schultz lifting up a hand over his eyes. Gentle fingers touching and lifting aside an uninjured part. What’s happening to me now never in a thousand years could I ever believe would be true. Matron’s voice is sending a shiver of lust from one end of me to the other. I may have lost a lot of blood but jesus I can feel the arteries going like trip hammers engorging with every ounce of the blood I got left. Giving me the last thing I want which is now the most embarrassing massive hard on of my entire life. Holy cow how can I stop the fucking thing springing up and hitting her in the face. Hey come on doc. Let’s not wait. Give me gas. Or give me death. Before I die of embarrassment.

  ‘Well doctor I do think Mr Schultz is already showing incontrovertible signs of a rapid recovery. Ah and by the way Mr Schultz, our Mr Duke is sadly no longer with us.’

  ‘O jesus, when did he die. I missed that.’

  ‘He was flown to Los Angeles.’