The House (11 page)

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Authors: Edward Lee

BOOK: The House
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But of course he didn't actually say it, he thought it. To actually
say
it would have been
extremely
inadvisable. This, after all, was the man who had removed Leonard's left testicle, and they didn't call him Knuckles for nothing. Nevertheless, as Leonard's better judgement revisited him, he wilted.
I won't tell this guy off because I'm afraid. Because I don't have the courage. I'm a weakling, a coward...
Knuckles slapped Leonard in the back of the head. "Ya hear me, kid?"
Leonard gulped. "Yes. Yes, Mr. Knuckles. I'll take the bag in the house and then clean the...pig shit out of the back seat."
"Good, boy. Good little wussy."
Leonard reached down to pick up the grocery bag. Paused. Blinked and stared. He rummaged through it then and saw only a dozen cans of Giant-brand Big Chunk Beef dog food.
Leonard turned with steel in his eyes. "This is just dog food. Where's the spaghetti for me and the girls?"
"We forgot to pick some up."
Leonard ground his teeth. "We've only got three cans left, and you guys won't be back up here for another week."
Knuckles scraped something nonchalantly out of his nostril. "Like I give a shit? Now take the fuckin' bag in the fuckin' house and then get your fuckin' ass back out here and clean the fuckin' pig shit outa the fuckin' back seat."
"Fuck you, you dago moron whop motherfucker," Leonard calmly replied. "Clean the pig shit out your fucking self."
The succession of blows which followed this remark was lost to Leonard. All he knew was that Knuckles very expertly had Leonard wheezing on the ground a split second later. His head hurt. His stomach hurt. His chest hurt. He couldn't breathe.
But he
could
 wail when Knuckles grabbed him by a fistful of hair and dragged him back in the house.
"Fuckin' art school college boy punk talkin' to
me
 like that? We'll see what Rocco says. Hope he lets me take your other nut."
Back in the house Leonard was—
ka-clunk!—
dropped on the living room floor like a bag of blocks. Rocco did not immediately notice this however, as he was in the process of briskly sodomizing Snowdrop. He sort of grunted with each thrust, and it almost seemed that the pig mimicked these grunts with a few of its own while it snuffled and skittered about the corners of the room. Snowdrop lay splayed on her belly, either unconscious or comatose.
"Goddamn!" Rocco exclaimed as he exerted himself through the motions. "Here ya go bitch, here's some milk for yer fudge," and then, "Ahhhh!"
The pelvic pumpings slowed, then abated. Snowdrop lay motionless, showing the brown eye. "Shit, bitch, your asshole's bigger than a fuckin' gopher hole. Bet you've had more cock goin'
into
your ass than shit comin'
out.
" Rocco, after this kind compliment, hoisted up his slacks, and it was then that he noticed Knuckles standing there with a bloody-faced Leonard at his feet.
"Knuckles, what'choo jack the kid out for?"
"Shit, boss, he called me a—"
"Help the kid up, you schmuck," Rocco ordered. "Vinch says the movies he shoots are the best animal flicks he's ever seen, and you wanna go busting him up?"
"But, boss," Knuckles countered. "He called me a, a, a dago moron whop motherfucker."
"Yeah? And ya know somethin', Knuckles. You
are
 a dago moron whop motherfucker. What are you, stupid? Your mamma raise a dumbell? Anything happens to the kid, what'choo think Vinchetti'll say?"
Knuckles mouth dropped open. "Uhhh—"
Rocco cut a sharp frown. "Yeah,
uhhh.
 He'll say drop that asshole Knuckles in the Hudson, that's what he'll say. Now help the kid up and don't never touch him again. Understand?"
Knuckles was actually shaking when he nodded the affirmative and helped Leonard to his feet. "Thank you," Leonard croaked.
"He's, uh, he's pissed we forgot the spaghetti," Knuckles said.
Rocco tapped himself on the head. "Oh, shit, kid. I'm really sorry about that. We got so much shit goin' on sometimes we forget. Just try to rough it for the next week, huh? And I promise, we'll bring ya up some good grub next time, okay?"
What else could Leonard say?
"Okay," he said.
"No problem. Hey, watch the pig, kid. And shoot us up a nice flick."
Leonard grabbed the leash, holding the pig back as Rocco and Knuckles went out the kitchen door.
Could've been worse,
he reckoned. A lot worse. At least he could be proud of the praise:
I make the best animal movies in the country.
He looked out into the driveway and received even a smidgen more satisfaction. Rocco kicked Knuckles in the pants and shouted, "Clean the pig shit outa the backseat you asshole! I ain't ridin' all the way back to Trenton smellin'
pig shit!
"
««—»»
Leonard sucked down one of the last three cans of spaghetti. He was probably down to 120 pounds now, a broomstick in dirty jeans and a Hawkwind T-shirt. Hawkwind's ham-fisted sci-fi chord-pounding in fact jazzed from the radio this very minute; "That's the spirit of the age," a deaf-in-one-ear Robert Calvert vocalled.
Yeah, it sure is,
Leonard thought.
Living on spaghetti and dog food, making underground porno movies for the Mafia.
 The pig chortled, chewed at his pantleg.
"Hope you're horny, little buddy," Leonard said to the pig.
Snowdrop still lay unconscious on her belly in the living room, flattened by the rectal going-over Rocco had treated her to. Her anus looked like an empty eye socket.
"Snowdrop! Get up!" Leonard commanded in a loud voice. "Sissy! Come on out here!"
Neither girl responded.
"I've got heroin!"
That
 roused them. Snowdrop rolled over at once, sat up and looked at Leonard, her dead eyes alighted. Sissy straggled out wearing only stained panties. Her strands of pasty hair resembled enslimed tentacles of some Lovecraftian thing.
"Gimme, gimme," she groaned.
"Please please please," Snowdrop groaned.
"Not yet." Leonard sat down on the crusty couch. "We have to talk—"
"I don't wanna to talk, I wanna fire up!" Snowdrop yelled.
Leonard almost slapped her in the face but elected not to at the last second. He was not a violent person, and this predicament certainly wasn't her fault. "In a minute," he said. How the girls were not dead already mystified him.
God works in strange ways,
 he thought. But, no, it wasn't God, it had to be the Devil. God would not protract the misery of heroin addicts solely for the purpose of making animal movies for the mob. "We're in dire straits," he (Leonard, not God) began. "Rocco's not coming back for a week and we only have two cans of spaghetti left. We're all seriously malnourished; if we don't eat, we'll die. And that means we're going to have to eat dog food."
"I don't wanna eat, I wanna fire up!" Snowdrop yelled.
"Gimme, gimme," Sissy pleaded. Standing like a parched zombie, her dirty hands reaching out, she urinated in her panties without realizing it.
"Rocco and Knuckles brought up a pig, they want a pig movie. You girls know how hard pig movies are." He could hear the pig scuffling around in the kitchen, oinking. "We're going to have to work very hard to make this pig movie good."
"I don't wanna fuck pigs, I wanna fire up!" Snowdrop yelled.
"Gimme!" Sissy yelled.
Leonard sighed. "And as usual, Rocco didn't bring enough heroin. I'll only be able to give each of you one bag a day."
"Fuck!" Snowdrop yelled. "We'll die!"
"Gimme, gimme," Sissy pleaded.
Leonard gave them each one bag of heroin. "Here's your heroin. Tomorrow we start the movie." They scurried off to their room like starving chipmunks who'd just happened upon a few acorns.
From the cutting room, John Wetton sang "Starless and...bible-black," from E.G. Record's 1974 King Crimson album entitled
Red.
««—»»
Animal management, yes. That's what it was all about.
Dogs were a cinch; they realized what was going on, and what they were supposed to do. Horses and mules? They pretty much just stood there and let the girls down their thing. Easy. But pigs?
"Owwww!" Snowdrop yelped. "The fucker
bit
 me! It bit me on the back!"
Three days now they'd been at it. Leonard made the girls eat in the morning, then they'd shoot all day and into the night, and then he'd give them their "ten bag." First day? Could've been worse. They split the last two cans of spaghetti three ways. It wasn't bad. But after that, the daily menu changed cuisines.
Beef & Cheese Flavor, Hearty Chicken Dinner, Big Chunk Beef, Beef & Liver.
Snowdrop preferred
Big Chunk Beef,
by the way. Sissy was partial to
Beef & Cheese.
 
By Day Four, Leonard was contemplating suicide. Abduction, slavery, animal movies, and dog food did not afford most men any sense of purpose or actualization. For all this time, he'd been living for the Sundance Film Festival announcements, but of course how would they even contact him if he won? And was Rocco really going to let him go after his "obligation" was met? Leonard kinda doubted it. So why go on?
Hope, perhaps? Or maybe providence?
"He's kind of cute, though," Sissy observed, kneeling naked next to the irate pig. "He's like Arnold on
Green Acres.
"
"That's great," Leonard complained from behind the lowered Canon. "So try to make cute little Arnold have sex with you."
"Well, Snowdrop could help," Sissy griped.
"Fuck you! The fucker bit me!" came Snowdrop's retort, rubbing her wound.
"You have to be...dainty with him," Leonard suggested. "Pigs are ornery, irritable. You don't just spread your legs and pull him on. You've got to use finesse."
Leonard's Guide To Animal Movies.
"I'm stringing," Snowdrop said. Leonard's instructions went in one ear and out the other. "I need to take another bang."
"No," Leonard put his verbal foot down. "You already had yours for the day, both of you."
"Yeah, Leonard," Sissy piped in. "We can't do this when we're this strung."
"No! Now what you have to do is—"
"Come on, Leonard. We'll blow you," Snowdrop offered.
"Yeah, real good," Sissy seconded the motion. "And you can fuck us too."
"No!" God, women! They tried this stunt every night, not realizing that Leonard would sooner put his penis into a dumpster drain. By now emaciation reduced their breasts to meager dirty bags of skin; their hips and joints stuck out like death-camp girls, and their eyes... Well, their eyes always looked dead.
Part of Leonard, at times, hated these malodorous twig-women but generally he felt sorry for them. How could he not? None of this was their fault.
But it's not mine either,
 he reminded himself.

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