Requiem for a Dream (3 page)

The sun was down which made it night time, but Harry
and Tyrone were bugged with all the lights that stabbed and slashed
and skewered their eyeballs. They hung tough behind their shades.
Daytime is a drag, when the sun is shining, the sunlight bouncing off
windows and cars and buildings and the sidewalk and the goddamn glare
pushing on your eyeballs like two big thumbs and you look forward to
the night when you can get some relief from the assaults of the day
and start to come alive as the moon rises, but you never get the
complete relief you look forward to, that you anticipate. You start
to feel the apathy of the day start to seep away as the lames and
squares all make it home from the 9 to 5 and sit down to a dinner
with the wife and kids, the wife lookin like the same beat up broad
with hair in her face and her ass saggin, dumpin the same old slop on
the table and the goddamn house apes yelling and fightin about whose
piece of meat is bigger and who got the most butter and whats for
dessert and after dinner he grabs a can a beer and sits in front of
the tube and grunts and farts and picks his teeth thinkin that he
oughtta go out and get a good piece a ass but too tired and
eventually the old lady comes in and flops on the couch and says the
same thing every night. Never changes. Watch ya watchin, hon???? By
the time that scene is played all over the apple there's a little
life in the streets, but theres still those damn lights. Yeah, the
lights are a drag, but its a lot better than the sun. Anythings
better than that. Especially in the middle of summer. Now you have
just said a mouthful, mah man. Ah feels like slidin mah pretty little
ass to some nice dark corner and groove behind some fine sounds and
maybe lay a bad dick on some groovy fox, and ah mean a bad mutha
fuckin dick jim. Jesus krist man, you really got pussy on the 
mind. Cant you ever think above your navel fa krists sake? Sheeit.
What the fuck you talking about man? Jus cause they cut the bone
outta yours dont mean diddly to me. Mines still moren just a pee
pole. Gahd damn, give me five. Harry slapped the palms of Tyrones
hands and Tyrone slapped Harrys. Well man, we gonta stand here all
night and count the cars goin by, or should we try to drum up a
little action? O man, what you mean? you know ah caint count. O
krist, man, why dont you cool it, eh? You think they cut that shit
with laughin gas? Anyway, lets go where theres some life. Whatta ya
say? Hey baby, Im down. Why dont we make it crosstown to the morgue?
Hey, yeah, Angels on duty tonight. Theres always a little action at
the morgue. Lets make it baby.

Harry Goldfarb and Tyrone C. Love got on the
crosstown bus. Harry started to sit in the front, just behind the
driver, and Tyrone grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the seat
and shook him, his eyes Step-n-Fetch-It wide, yawl outta yoe mine
man? shaking Harry as his body shook, darting glances everywhere at
once, yawl tryin to get us killed? Yawl tryin to get us lynched from
the lamppost? Yawl outta your gawd-damn mine? Hey man, lighten up.
Whats with you? Whats with me—the bus lurched to a stop and they
knocked into the railing around the driver and Tyrone jerked them
back as he tried to hide behind his shoulder and peer at the people
boarding the bus—whats with me? Is you crazy? This here is the
south Bronx man, ah mean the south, SOUTH, you dig? O shit. Lets make
it man. They slunk down the aisle, bouncing off the seats, bowing and
scraping, Sorry, sorry. No offense man. . . . The other 
passengers continued reading their papers, talking, looking out the
window, reading the advertisements, straining to see the street
signs, blowing their nose, cleaning their glasses and staring
straight ahead at nothing, as they lurched by. When they reached the
rear of the bus they sat down with a long, loud sigh. Hey massa
Harry, how come you is a sittin back chere wit us black foke? Well,
ahll tell you brother Tyrone, cause under it all ah feels that we is
all brothers and under this white skin beats a heart just as black as
yours, hahahaha, lay it on me, and they gave each other five. Sheeit
baby, you aint white, youse just pale ... and you got to remember
baby, beautys only skin deep, but uglys to the bone, and they gave
each other five again. Harry made a telescope with his hands and
peered through it at the ads along the  side of the bus. What
the fuck you doin man? Its the only way to look at an ad, man. You
really get to peep the broads without distractions. Harry deepened
his voice: Dont be half safe, put Arried under both your arms. Sheeit
man, Mums the word. You think Im putting ya on, eh? Go ahead, try it.
Its the only way, man. Im tellin ya. All those lovely ads up there
and you never noticed them. Harry scanned the ads as a lookout the
horizon. Hey, look at that one. I bet you missed it. Does she or
doesnt she? Only her gynecologist knows for sure. What he doin peepin
at her thang. Yeah, it dont mean a swing if you aint got that thang.
They stretched out and continued rappin and gooffin on their way to
the morgue.

They eased themselves out of the bus and stood on the
corner for a moment as the bus roared slowly away and the diesel
fumes floated unnoticed around them. They lit cigarettes and savored
the deliciousness o£ the first drag as they looked around before
crossing the street. They went down the dimly lit street, around the
back, over the low fence and quickly dropped down to the runway
leading to the tunnel, then quickly through the tunnel and off to the
right in a small, narrow recess and rang the bell with the opening
movement of Beethovens Fifth, DA DA DA DAAAAAA. There was an old
serial named Spy Smasher, and the opening music for each chapter was
the beginning of Beethovens Fifth as a huge V appeared on the screen
and the morse signal for v appeared under it, dot dot dot dash. Angel
loved that serial. He thought it was real hip havin Beethoven help
them win the war. That was his secret signal for everything. Angel
peeped at them for a moment, then opened the door slightly, Hurry up
before fresh air gets in here. They slid in and Angel closed the
door, shut. The warm, humid summer air was left behind and it was
suddenly cool, very cool. They walked past the machinery, up the
steel staircase to an office. It was dense with smoke that whirled as
the door opened and closed and looked exotic in the blue light. Tony,
Fred and Lucy were sitting on the floor, listening to the music from
the radio on the desk. Whatta ya say, man? Hey baby, whats happenin?
Hows it going sweetheart? Hey, mah man, what's happenin? Things are
pretty good Harry. Whats happenin baby? Groovy baby. Harry and Tyrone
sat down and leaned against the wall and started to move slightly in
time to the music. Any action tonight Angel? Hey man, theres always
action here. This is a lively joint when the Angels around, eh? You
straight? Not yet. Itll be here soon. Gogit is on his way. Hey,
groovy man. He always got some good stuff. The Spy Smasher ring got
Angel to his feet and out of the office. He came back in a minute
with Marion and Betty. Hey, whats happenin man? Im cool baby, what
goin on? Whatta ya say?

Whats shakin baby? Makin it, makin it. You know, same
old thing. They joined the others on the floor, Marion sitting next
to Harry. Tyrone looked at Fred, You lookin good man. You know me
man, strength and health. Watch you do, change embalmers? Sheeit man,
theys got stiffs out in them boxes that looks betteran you. Ooooo,
thats some deep shit man. O sheeit. That dude walk in that room an he
scare them stiffs outen here. O man, thats rank. Dont letim shit all
overya man, open ya mouth. You know somethin baby, yawls a
degenerate. The giggling was becoming laughter and becoming louder
and louder. Hey man, who let you out without a leash. Oooo, thats—DOT
DOT DOT AAAA-AAAASH. Angel spun around and out of the room and the
silence maintained itself as effortlessly as it had started as
everyone  felt that it was Gogit and waited to see him bebop his
way through the door. He did. Hey mah man, whaz hap-penin? Hey baby.
Lay it on me jim—slap. You straight baby? Sheeit, ahm ah straight?
What the fuck yoe think ahm doin here, lookin at the scenery? Yeah,
its kindda dead, eh? Ah got some boss shit, man. Ah mean its dy no
mite, right from the eyetnlians. Everybody started taking their money
out and Gogit put the heroin on the table and scooped up the money.
Lets go git it on. Everyone left the office and started roaming
around the dimlit refrigeration room, reaching down cracks, crevices,
under floorplates, behind machinery, between loose bricks, for their
works. No matter how many other sets they might have stashed around
town, everyone always had a set stashed in the Bronx County Morgue.
They went back to the office, got paper cups filled with water and
each one staked out a small portion of  the floor for
themselves. The radio was still playing but the concentration was .so
intense that no one heard the music or was aware of anything but
their own cooker as they carefully dumped the heroin in it, then
added the water and heated it until the dope dissolved, then drew the
liquid up through the cotton in the cooker into the dropper, then
tied up. Each knew they were not alone in the room, but paid
absolutely no attention to what was going on around them. When their
favorite vein was ready they tapped the needle into it and watched
the first bubble of blood pulse through the fluid and streak to the
surface, their eyes glued to it, their senses aware only of the fact
that they got a good hit and that their stomachs were churning with
anticipation and then they squeezed the bulb and shot the shit into
their vein and waited for the first rush and then let the dropper
fill with blood again and squeezed that in and  then booted
again and went with the flow as they flushed and felt the sweat ooze
from their skin then filled their droppers with water and let their
works set in the cup of water while they leaned back against the wall
and lit a cigarette, their movements slow, their eyes half closed,
everything inside them quiet and mellow; the air smooth, their lives
free from all concerns; their speech slower, quieter. Harry started
picking his nose. Hey man, this shit is somethin else. Gogit mah man,
you is alright. Yoe gahddamn right ah is. Yoe seen the rest now you
sees the best. The laughter and giggling was low and slow, and oooo,
so cool. Hey man, pick me a winner. Harrys right pinky was still
buried deep in his nose, his brows knit in deep concentration as he
probed, his entire being involved in the sensuous pleasure of the
search, the near orgasmic satisfaction of finding a solid substance
to be picked and pried from the drying sides with the nail, then
extracted with care from the darkness of the cavern to the caressing
blue light to be deliciously rolled between the tips of his fingers.
The sound of his voice was soothing to his ears as it reflected an
inner peace and contentment. Be cool man. Different strokes for
different folks, eh man? Marion kissed Harry on the cheek, I think
youre beautiful Hare. I like to see a man enjoy himself. There was a
little more intensity to the laughter, but still low and, ooooo, so
slow.

Sheeit, whyent chuall leave the dude alone and letim
do his thang in peace. It got to be a drag, man, to be a booger
freak. Yeah, anytime he wants to lose ten pounds he just picks his
nose. I should tell my sister that. She makes two of me. She really
gets up tight when she sees me. Well baby, yawl just turn her on to
some smack and her butter ball ass go right down the drain and ah
mean right now. Hey man, you sure you aint finger fuckin yourself?
Hey Harry, yawl wanna borrow a finger? Sheeit, whyent chuall get
offen his muthafuckin ass? Sheeit, thats as good as pussy, right
Harry? Go git it on man, git it on!!! Harry grinned as the others
laughed and took time out to take a poke on his cigarette, then
rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. I should have
you all locked up for interferin with religious freedom. Betty made
the sign of the cross at him, In the name of the father, the son and
the holy booger. Harry joined the laughter and Angel turned the radio
up a bit and they gradually started nodding and finger poppin in time
to the music. Hey Angel, any interesting customers out there? Na,
theyre all a bunch of stiffs, har, har, har. Angels head was nodding
up and down as he continued to laugh, and when he spoke the words
sputtered through his laughter, theyre all a bunch of dead beats.
Sheeit, I bet they look better than you baby. Dont say that. I think
Angel is cute. Yeah, haha, like Count Dracula. I bid you velcome.
Drink you blood before it clots. Lucy giggled for a few seconds,
shaking her head, Ah wonder what that dude would do here, hehehe, hed
be one hungry mutha. You aint shitin man. Alls he gotta do it bite
into Gogit and hed o.d. Thats a funny scene, a strung out vampire.
Harry put his arms around Marion and pulled her close to him, Be cool
baby, or I'll biteya on the chroat, and started nibbling her neck.
She giggled and squirmed and soon they both tired and just leaned
against the wall, smiling loudly. No kiddin Angel, do ya ever get
anything special in here, like some young good lookin heads? Sheeit,
this muthafuckas a ghoul man. Everyone was giggling and scratching.
Thats okay man, I  understand. Some likeim hot and some likeim
cold. Hey Gogit, watch you put into Freds stuff? Marion was giggling
and gagging on a mouthful of smoke, Hey Fred, go over to the other
side of the room. Id feel a lot safer. They were all laughing and
gig-glin an rubbing their noses between taking pot shots at Fred and
drags on their cigarettes. The smoke was becoming so thick that the
blue light made the room look as if a small part of light blue sky
had somehow fallen into the room. Sheeit, ah dont care what was in
the stuff, ah wants to know whats he gonna do with it? He got to find
it first. There was one here yesterday that was a real doll, man. I
mean gorgeous. A real knockout. A redhead. A real redhead, and built
like a brick shithouse. She had a pair like this and a ass that didnt
quit. Fred looked and spoke as  eagerly as the dope allowed him,
No shit man? How old was she? Hey, what could I tellya? About
nineteen or twenty. Sheeit, aint this a bitch? This mutha worryin how
old she is. Hes got scruples man, he dont wanna get caught with
anyone underage. Right Fred? Everyone was grinning as broadly as
possible and chuckling, their heads bouncing and bobbing. Where is
she? Maybe Fred'd like to meater, MEAT? Betty was shaking her head
and chuckling, You know something, you guys are sick. Hey, dont knock
it. Its ecologically sound. Ya gotta recycle everything man. The
faces still grinned and the heads still bobbed and the laughter got a
little louder. Sheeit, yoe honky ass mutha fuckas is weird jim, ah
mean weird. Yawl sound like a bunch a guhd-damn cannibals. Hey man,
whats all the static? I was just askin a friendly question. The
laughter was getting a little louder and a little more energetic.
Watch she  die of? Who said she was dead? She was a visitor,
har, har, har. The heads stopped bobbing and started shaking. Thats
pretty good, eh?