Soul of a Whore and Purvis (11 page)

Blue dog called my name

If you ever get to Houston

Boy you better walk right

You better not gamble

[
He materializes from the dark.
]

…You better never have no fun a-tall.

…Wrap yourself around me! Gimme a squeeze!

I waited for you at the Huntsville Greyhound!

Man, I broke parole to see you. Man—

Baby baby baby—how you doing?

I'm doing good, myself! I'm traveling!

They call me Hostage Taker 'cause I took

Some hostages, and that's my claim to fame.

Who is this guy? How come he don't talk?

Brer Jenks has got hisself a Tar Baby.

[
Sings
]
Mistah Blue-bird on mah shoul-dah!

OK OK OK let's settle down.

I waited for you! First the Houston bus

And then the Dallas, and you never came!

That's the day things started going wrong.

Parole boss say be here, or I'll get mad.

You miss the meeting and he gets his sharpened

Fingers motorvating on that phone pad

Wop bop-a-lu-bop, a wop bam boom!—like
that

He violates your ass, and you got warrants.

That's what happens when the bus don't come!

—How long has Brer Jenks been like this?

JOHN
: I saw you on TV.

HT
:                               —Now, don't believe

Just every single thing that TV shows you.

JOHN
: I didn't say believe. I say I saw.

I saw you on there.

HT
[
with
BJ
'
s jug
]:             Want a snort?…To fame!

Woo. Woo. That strangles up your vocal cords.

JOHN
: How'd you get here, anyhow?

HT
:                                                    I walked.

I walked across the fields. Across, across.

That's why I'm all red dirt up past my knees.

…They let you wear your hair and beard in the joint?

JOHN
: No. I been out a couple years.

HT
:                                                    A couple?

JOHN
: Yeah. Two years.

HT
:                                  Then what you wearing whites for?

Been gambling? Gambling treats you mean as drinking.

Either one, your wardrobe goes to hell.

Now, look at me. I'm mussed, I know, but look—

A brand-new suit. Use me as your example.

[
Siren in the distance.
]

—That's that blue dog calling me. That skinny

Blue dog…[
Of the cross:
] It's kinda Mexican, ain't it?

JOHN
: Yeah, it's Mexican. And so's my mother.

HT
: So's my mother? What'd you say about—

JOHN
: No,
mine
.
My
mother's Mexican, not yours.

HT
: How do you know my mom ain't Mexican?

She could be an African-Mexican.

I could be an Afro-Hispanic-American,

So leave each other's mother out of it.

Did you just see a worm crawl outa my brain?

Some days I feel screwier'n Japanese jazz!

Been starin' in the pit of Hell so long

My eyes are bleeding and I'm damn near blind,

But that's all right…

Let me introduce myself.

JOHN
: You introduced yourself.

HT
: I introduced myself? OK, OK,

Then let
you
introduce
your
self to
me
.

JOHN
: I'm John Cassandra.

HT
:                                     And this here's Preacher Jenks.

Me and the preacher have a history.

I'm charmed I'm sure. 'Cause I heard all about you,

Uh-huh, the Cross Boy and the preacher man.

JOHN
: What's your purpose here?

HT
: My purpose on this earth?

JOHN
:                                      No. On this porch.

HT
: I'm just here long enough to cure my nerves.

BILL JENKS
: My age, you get to feel this vernal weather

Down in the gristle…

HT
:                                        Brother Bill!

BILL JENKS
:                                                 Quite so!

Is it autumn, or is it spring? I can't decide.

We've got this barometric memory

That kind of senses atmospheric change

Based on what we've seen since childhood.

JOHN
:                                                                      Bill,

Will you shut up?

HT
:                                  How long has he been like this?

BILL JENKS
: It's a proper question.

JOHN
:                                           No, the question

Is how long are you gonna
stay
like this?

BILL JENKS
: Either until autumn or until spring.

Old HT! I saw you on the TV.

Let's us have a drink.

HT
:                                        Brer Jenks! I'm out!

…You're out! We're out! It's time!—We hit that number!

Baby, don't you remember? I finally hit that number.

I pulled some mischief, slick as baby shit—

Guess where? Do you know where? In Canada!

Been up there for a year. I got a car,

I got a name, I got ID, the total package,

I had it all up there, but I missed home.

Not home in Willard. Home back at the Walls.

I missed that smell. The voices echoing.

The same day over and over and no way out.

I kind of missed that feeling like you're trapped.

BILL JENKS
: What I hear, you ain't gonna miss it long.

HT
: I feel like I'm full of poison—emotional poison,

Physical poison, and every kind of poison.

My mind got fat. My dick won't make no juice.

What are they
thinking
about in Canada?

They make you feel ridiculous…

BILL JENKS
: It wasn't Canada that made you famous.

There ain't no show called
Canada's Most Wanted
.

Nope, I believe they showed your photograph

On one they call
America's Most Wanted
,

Had it on now several Sairdy's running,

Account of this thing you did in Ellersburg,

And not the Canadian Ellersburg, no sir,

This other Ellersburg down here in Texas,

The Texas Ellersburg. A quite bad thing.

HT
:
I
know.—Well, it looks like…well, it looks like…

BILL JENKS
:
Well
, HT, it looks like a double killing.

It looks like they think you did it, like they think

You did this double killing up there. So they think.

Siren in the distance—

HT
: It was a desperate situation, Brother Jenks.

BILL JENKS
: They're looking for you, Brother Hostage Taker.

HT
: Don't go believing everything you hear.

JOHN
: Sirens? Sirens are hard not to believe.

HT
: That's just a train. The good old K.C. Flyer.

BILL JENKS
: They want you, they want you bad, the worst. “The most.”

HT
: I'm saying it was a desperate
situation
.

BILL JENKS
: How could it be desperate? There's nothing
there
,

It's
Ellersburg
—a crossroads with a store,

A gasoline pump, and a Coke machine.

It's like a scene from 1957.

Thing still dispenses Yoo-Hoo for a dime.

HT
: Man, you don't get it, I'm
here
, I'm
here.

BILL JENKS
: And Mom and Pop slopped over on the floor—

Which one was Mom? Which one was Pop? We'll wait

On Ellersburg's most talented mortician

To figure that one out.

HT
:                                        He had a gun!

BILL JENKS
: Hey, so do I. You gonna blow my head off?

HT
: What are you saying? Man, we have a deal!

Twelve months in a prison cell together—

BILL JENKS
: Hey now, what was that movie, what was that movie…

The Defiant Ones
, with Sidney Poitier.

“Charlie Potato, Charlie Potato!”…Boys,

I'm going to Huntsville, Texas, boys,

To raise this bastard's mother from the dead.

JOHN
:                                                                       Thank God!

BILL JENKS
: No. Get back. There's foodstuff caught in your beard.

JOHN
: Thank God. Thank God!

HT
:                                           So—where do I come in?

BILL JENKS
: Come in?

HT
:                           Come in. Come in.

BILL JENKS
:                                               You don't come in.

HT
: I don't?

BILL JENKS
: You don't come in. Where would you fit?

HT
: That's what I'm asking in this stupid place

With sirens screaming awful bloody murder

And blah blah blah—now where do I fit in?

BILL JENKS
: Sidney…You've got no role in my movie.

My movie's got a cast of one.

It's all about this preacher silhouetted

Against a gory sunset outside Dallas

Tyin' up a rope to lynch himself.

That's the picture I'm trying to get across.

Kind of a tragic silly mystery.

HT
: Man, we have a deal, we have a deal!

BILL JENKS
: What deal? When did I ever make a bargain

With such as you?

HT
:                                    Man!—twelve months in a cell?

A solid year? Me smelling your shit

And listening to you playing with yourself,

Coughing, farting, talking in your dreams,

Crying all night long the first eight weeks?

—And I remember the night you didn't cry,

First night you slept the night entirely through.

I didn't sleep all night that night, for joy.

BILL JENKS
: Ah! Those were the days! And then they stopped.

HT
: Brother, Brother. I waited at the Greyhound…

Do you want to know why those people got killed?

BILL JENKS
: There was this guy I knew, he was a—well,
you
know,

I don't know what you'd call him, maybe a faggot?

That what you are? A homosexual?

HT
: O, God, O, God, this ain't my people here!

I got to get with my people, not these people!

Gimme a
sign
!

…Do you know why that mom and pop got killed?

Can you ever guess why those two persons died?

BILL JENKS
: 'Cause buckshot blew their brains up.

HT
:                                                                        Can you guess?

Or should I trace it back for you? Listen:

I'm all set up, I got a job, I'm in a suit,

I'm in the Houston Public Library.

Carpet. Silence. Air-conditioning.

Holding
Street Rod News
in my black fingers.

The time has come to buy a powerful new

Machine, because I'm free…White guy comes over.

Now, I'm just looking at my magazine—

I'm looking at pictures of engines, powerful engines—

Look up, 'cause now he's going hem-hem-hem

With his throat. I say to myself: White man

Coming up in the public library…

Light brown hair, blue eyes, the one

Explain your options on the life insurance,

Sell you a washer-dryer combination.

I'm thinking, First my beautiful suit, and now

This white man in the public library.

Not young, but not exactly middle-age,

Just nonchalant, you know, ain't nothing to him.

He says, “This is my name,” and all like that,

White man in the public library.

“Don't get me wrong, I gotta show you something.

Come over here to this part of the library

For compact discs and videos and all,”

And I don't know is he a
cop
, some
Mormon
…

What am I gonna do but follow him there?

He leads me like we're on safari, man,

We're gonna capture something with our stealth,

White man in the public library.

Like we're stalking on a quiet field of birds

Or moving through a church,

And there, across the room,

White man in the public library

Shows me a beautiful young black woman.

She's standing by the racks, what can I say,

Looking like a lump of Lawd Have Mercy.

Short sleeveless dress of graphite gray,

Smooth black arms, incredible black face,

Had that sticky-outy posture like she tore

Herself from
Vogue
or
Ebony
or
Cosmo
;

The tiniest littlest dab of spit would melt her.

He showed her to me.

He looks at me with this face,

Like a bird dog saying with his face, There,

Master, I didn't leave

No marks of my teeth in her feathers.

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