We sat there feeling numb until Bob said, “I don’t think coming over here is going to help much, but I’m sort of in the mood for a change of scenery . . . Maybe out of sight, out of mind ... And I don’t think his tattoos can come this far . . . too much distance between the concession and us.”
“Agreed,” I said.
It wasn’t much, but comparatively, this was the best part of the drive-in for us to hide out. For some reason, East Screen had had a lot less badness going on. There had certainly been some stuff happening over there; Crier, who knew everything had told us about it, but compared to the rest of Lot A, and certainly B, it was pretty tame business.
The movies changed as usual, and I could imagine the Popcorn King in the film room, going from projector to projector, switching them as needed. (Didn’t he need sleep?) That part of Willard that had been a projectionist was coming into play; he knew how to keep things going.
Bob and I dozed a lot, and when we were so hungry we couldn’t take it anymore, we’d go to the camper and lie down and eat, chewing slowly, sometimes talking if we had something to say, listening to the movies filtering into the camper from the speaker in the cab window. It got so I was having a hard time remembering what life was like before the drive-in. I could remember Mom and Dad, but couldn’t quite see their faces, recall how they moved or talked. I couldn’t remember friends, or even girlfriends whose faces had haunted my dreams at home. My past was fading like cold breath on a mirror.
And the movies rolled on.
At certain intervals, the old yellow bus next door to us would crack its back door, and out of it would come this rail-thin man in a black coat, white shirt and dark tie, and with him was this bony, broad-shouldered, homely woman in a flowered housedress and false leather slippers. She walked without picking her feet up much.
They’d walk toward the center of the row, and there would be others there, and they would form a crowd, and the man in the black coat, white shirt and dark tie would go before them and talk, move his arms a lot, strut back and forth like a bantam rooster. He’d point at the movies now and then, then at the group. He’d hop up and down and stretch his facial muscles and toward the end of this little exercise he’d be into much hand-waving you’d think he was swatting marauding bees.
When he tuckered out, everyone would gather around him in a team huddle, and stay that way for some time. When they broke up, they all looked satisfied. They’d stand around while the rail-thin man bowed his head and said some words, then each went on about his limited business.
Every time this little event occurred, the couple coming out of the bus, I mean, and Bob saw them, he’d say, “Well, gonna be a prayer meetin’ tonight.”
It got so it irritated me, him making fun of them, and I told him so.
“They’ve got something,” I said. “Faith. It’s been ages since any of these folks have eaten ... not since the King took over the concession, and look how they act. Orderly. With strength and faith. And the rest of the drive-in . . .”
You could hear screams and chainsaws frequently, and not just from the screen. Now and then a shot would puncture the air and there would be the sounds of yelling and fighting. But not here at East Screen.
“They’ve got food somewhere, Jack. Faith ain’t gonna take care of an empty belly. Trust me on the matter.”
“You’d have to have faith to know anything about it,” I said.
“And I guess you do?”
“No, but I’d like to.”
“It’s all a lie, Jack. There ain’t no magic formula, no way to know how to go. Astrology, numerology, readings in tea leaves and rat droppings, it’s all the same. It don’t amount to nothing. Nothing at all.”
Crier came by to see us.
We were out leaning on the front bumper of the truck, watching the people over at North Screen running around like savages, killing one another, wrecking cars. Bob had his faithful twelve-gauge companion by his side, just in case radical company from over there should come by and want to kill or eat us.
None did.
I figured the reason for this was threefold. Each screen had sort of become its own community,and strange as it was, each tended to stick together; they liked killing and eating their own. Least at this point. Two, Bob had the shotgun and he looked like a man who would use it, and there was the fact that the Christians, as I had come to think of them, had formed their own patrol. The patrol walked around the perimeters of East Screen regularly, armed mostly with tire irons, car aerials and the like, but also a gun or two. The third reason they left us alone was just a surmise on my part. I figured they were patient and were saving us for dessert.
Well, anyway, as I was saying, we were out leaning on the bumper of the truck, and along comes Crier. He looked bad. His lips were cracked and his eyes had a hollow look, as if they were shrinking in their sockets. He was using the hoe handle to keep from falling over. He seemed to concentrate heavily just to put one foot after another. I wanted to give him a piece of jerky bad, but Bob, anticipating my thinking, looked at me quickly and shook his head.
Crier came up and sat on the bumper next to Bob, let his head hang, got his breath. “I hope you boys aren’t going to kill and eat me,” he said almost pleasantly.
“Not today,” Bob said.
“Then you wouldn’t have anything I could eat, would you? I feel like fly-blown shit. You boys look pretty good. Maybe you got some food.”
“Sorry,” Bob said. “We did have, but we ate it. We saved a little of what we got at the concession each time, but now that’s gone. No more stash.”
“Well,” said Crier, “I always ask. It don’t hurt to do that. Getting so there ain’t no use my doing this anymore, this walking around to report the news. Everyone is news now, and no one wants to listen anymore. They just want to kill or eat me. This hoe handle has saved my life a dozen times. Maybe more. I did get beat up pretty bad, though. My ribs are cracked, I think. Hurts when I breathe too deep or walk too fast.”
“What can you tell us about the Popcorn King?” I asked.
“He went in there and he hasn’t come out. Nobody can get in there neither. That blue light around it would fry an egg. I know, I seen an old boy get his hand burned off trying to go in there after the King and some food.”
“Then why doesn’t it kill the King?” I asked.
“Don’t get me to lying. I ain’t got the slightest,” Crier said. “Maybe conditions were just different then.”
“So, that’s it on the King,” Bob said.
“Well, almost,” Crier said. “Those bodies his tiger dragged inside . . . He’s eating those. Got them hung up in the window there, and every time you look, there’s less meat on them.”
That would be right, I thought. Willard and Randy showing their power, showing that they have food, that it’s behind glass, hung up nice and neat, and that the rest of us are lowlifes scrounging for popcorn kernels, killing one another and tearing the flesh off the bones like hyenas. But not him, not the Popcorn King. He’s got it all fine and clean and well lighted, and he probably slices his meat off with a knife. Has soft drinks to go with it. Maybe some chocolate almonds for dessert.
“The concession at B?” Bob asked.
“Taken over again,” Crier said. “But there isn’t any food left. Those Banditos had already cleaned it out. Did I tell you I found a third of a bag of popcorn under a car a few movies back? Over at North Screen too. Just lying there, and hadn’t nobody seen it. Kind of in the shadow of a tire, part of the way under the car. I ate that sapsucker on the spot ... Man, you boys got it made in this section.”
“Right now,” Bob said.
“Why don’t you stay over here then?” I asked.
“Got to keep moving. It’s my way. Besides, I don’t know that your neighbors would want me moving in. I’ve been coming and going as I please so long, they let me do that, but I don’t know about moving in.”
“A word from us wouldn’t do you no good,” Bob said. “We’re sort of l
ow man on the totem pole here.”
“Don’t need a word. No matter what happens, got to keep moving. I used to drive a beer truck, you know. Always on the road . . . Got divorced twice because I couldn’t stay still. Had to stay on the go. Get home and I wanted to drive around. One reason I liked drive-ins. You came and sat in a car, and when you watched the movie it was like you were driving through a new world or something. All you had to do was put your hands on the steering wheel and imagine... Sure you boys haven’t got a thing to eat?”
“Nothing,” Bob said.
“Then I’ll hobble on. Take care. Hope the next time I see you ain’t neither one of us so bad we want to eat one another.”
“Same here,” Bob said.
Crier climbed the hoe handle and started off again, moving down the row of speakers, heading for the pathway between East Screen and North.
“We should have fed him,” I said. “He looks bad.”
“Everyone here looks bad, Jack. It ain’t practical to go feeding folks. Even Crier. He gets good and hungry, he might conk our noggins and take what we got. He’s all right, but he ain’t nothing more than a human being.”
“Which as a group you don’t nave a lot of respect for, do you?”
“It’s damn near got so I don’t have a drop,” Bob said.
I thought about the Christians, their meetings, their faith. It gave me moral strength. Their attitude assured me that there was more to humanity than a good meal, a cold beer and a roll in the hay. There was something strong and noble there too, something that, like a seed, needed fertilizing, and I told all that to Bob, and he said he thought beer, a good meal and a roll in the hay were just fine, and as for the seed that needed fertilizing, he had a strong suggestion for the type of fertilizer that would best be suited for such a seed.
You just couldn’t talk to Bob. He was too narrow-minded.
And so we got worn down and went to sleep, the speaker rattling movie dialogue and sound tracks through the camper as we drifted into nocturnal lands of cold shadow and dark dreams. And it was then that the Popcorn King came to us over the speaker, oozed into our brains and outlined his plans for us, told us how we fit into the scheme of things. And I will admit, they sounded inviting, these plans. He would be there to watch over us, feed us, give us a point on which to fix our wretched lives. And finally there was that voice, that lovely voice that was kind of Randy’s and kind of not; that other voice that was kind of Willard’s and kind of not, the one that hummed softly, shucked and jived, put a word in edgewise in just the right place. Those voices, those honey-poison, hot and cold voices of the Popcorn King.
2
So spake the Popcorn King—first one mouth and then the other:
My little dearies, my little popcorn eaters and movie lovers, my little heathens and mortals, you who take dukies beside your cars, how are you, babies, how are you? And listen up tight now, ‘cause you done gone and went and got yourself the Popcorn King here, and I want to whisper to you, tell you some secrets, make your life complete, and talk on a subject that is dear to both mine and your hearts.
Popcorn.
Food, my subjects. Chow. Grub. Chewables. Hit it, mouth number two.
(chuckachew, chuckachew, chuckachewchewchew)
Yes, brethren—
(pseudo organ music from other mouth)
—I am here to talk to you about how things are going to be. How things are, in fact, though you may not know it yet. But before I do, let me tell you about the corn, about the sweet, popping corn, hot and fine and ready to melt in your mouth; good ole popcorn the color of fresh bird shit, but the texture and taste of life.
Corn, babies, corn.
Hit it again, mouth number two.
(chuckachew, chuckachew, chuckachewchewchew)
So I come off the roof, and I’m feelin’ wild, walk in the house, jive down the aisle. There’s some blue air here, some blue air there, lots of dead bodies shoo everywhere
(chuckachew, chuckachew, chuckachewchewchew)
—blood on the candy, blood on the door, dried and gone nasty, and there’ll be more. (pappa pap, pappapap, pappapap, papachewchewchew)
Yes sir now, babies, friends and pals, gonna tell you a story ‘bout the Popcorn King, how he rolled and walked and talked so clean, yessire billy, I’m the Popcorn King.
(chuckachew, chuckachew, chuckachewchewchew)
Put your ears to the speakers, put your brain on hold, listen up, honeys, and don’t get bold, popcorn’s the magic and that’s no load.
(jujujujujujujujuju-pap, pap, pap, pap, yeah, chuckachew, chuckachew, chuckachew chewchew)
Yeah, Popcorn’s the magic, it’s the tiny bomb, when it sees your insides goes off like a four-alarm.
(chuckachew, chuckachew, chuckachewchewchew)
Now if you been eatin’ your kids, dead dogs too, licking cold shit off the bottoms of your shoes, this oughta thrill you, oughta make you feel grand. I’m here to tell you Popcorn King is a friendly man—
(boop, boop, boop-tadtadtadtadachew, chuckachewchewchew)
—gonna offer somethin’ special, offer somethin’ fine, gonna tell you a story of the popcorn kind.
(chuckachew, chuckachew, chuckachewchewchew)
Listen up tight, don’t stray on me, keep them ears wide open and I won’t tell you no lie.
(jujujujujujujujupap, pap, pap, yeah, chukachew, chuckachew, chuckachew chewchew)
You ain’t gonna make it, you don’t be my friend, so better do what I’m askin’ then.
(boop, hoop, boop-tadatada, tadachew, chuckachewchewchew)
Now we gonna close up shop with the rappin’ man, gonna take us a trip to the Promised Land.
(bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves, we’ll all come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves)
Yes sir, brethren, I have come to you today with a line of pure truth. I come to fill your hearts with love or panic or hate or blood, whatever it takes. Listen up, sinners, let me tell you about the Lords of Popcorn. Let me tell you that those movies are lights from the very eyes of the Lords.
(amen, brother, amen)
Was a time, though I can only distantly remember it and can’t make sense of it, when I was a man like you. Two men, to be exact. And sinners in the eyes of the Lords of Popcorn.
(amen)
Yes sir, a sinner, I surely was, a great sinner ... a damn big sinner. Where’s the amen corner?
(amen, brother, amen)
I didn’t know the laws of popcorn and soda, of hot dogs and chocolate-covered almonds, didn’t know blood and death were the paths to destruction, didn’t know that the very flesh of man was salvation and that all we could do was to please our needs and instincts and all else was out the window. Yeah, didn’t know love and beauty when it was looking me in my own eye.
(no you didn’t, brother, no you didn’t)
That’s right, I didn’t, so the Lords of Popcorn in their ultimate wisdom—blessed are those Lords—seen this, and chillun, they saw I was trying to live like everyone else, and they brought me here.
(yes they did, brother, yes they did)
And I was picked by those Lords as your messiah, your grand executioner, your grand lover, your Popcorn King. They gave me the lightning and the lightning gave me the powers, and these powers made me better than you, and that’s all there is to that tune.
(tell it like it is, Brother Corn)
But I come down off that roof a new man made of two, and I come in here and I saw these movies and I knew the truth, seen it was all a sign.
(come to you in a flash of light, this sign)
That’s right, it did. Say amen.
(AMEN)
Man but I feel good, sanitized and homogenized. Say it again, good brother.
(AMEN)
Oh, but I like the sound of that. One more time.
(AMEN)
All right, glory hallelujah, popcorn and corpses be praised.
(amen on that popcorn and dead folks)
You
see, I saw these movies were the juice of the Lord’s brains, the very juice done squirted out of their heads and onto them big white things we call screens. There is the way to live, brethren. It’s a dog-eat-dog, folk-eat-folk world, and ain’t nothing matters but one thing. That you ain’t the one that gets et, if you know what I mean.
(that’s the truth, Brother Corn, ain’t no denying)
And I said aloud right off the top set of my lips—
(yes, you did)
—I have been sent down here from that roof a changed couple of individuals to make sure those little people out there who are not nearly as neat as I am have an example, someone to follow ... someone with the corn. ‘Cause this place is full of corn, my friends. You too can eat again, and not your neighbor. I’ll eat your neighbors,just bring them to me when they go belly up . . . get tired of living, bring your own self, I’ll be glad to kill your ass dead.
(be thrilled to do it, yes, he will)
And now you say, but what is the point of all this? It is confusing, Brother Corn.
(was gonna ask that)
Sure you were. And the point is I do as I like when I like and you do what I like when I like. And there is just really very little that I want.
(ain’t asking much)
No I’m not. Just that meat I told you about, alive or dead. And another little thing. The most important thing. I want you to know the movies to be real.
(just as real as can be)
They are the reality and you are the non-reality. You cannot prove your reality by touching yourself. That means nothing.
(go on, touch yourself, don’t mean a thing)
It’s what you can’t touch that’s real.
(can’t touch reality, no matter how hard you try)
If you want to become as real as the lights on the screens, you have to give yourself to them, do as they do, live as they live. They are the scripture and I am their voice.
(talking for them just as plain as can be)
So come on over to the other side, Reality City. Embrace the truth of the flickering dream, hold on to reality and let the non-reality flow out of you like piss from a bladder. Take the first step toward gratification, toward becoming real. All you got to do to have this thing and the popcorn—