The enormous bearded burly fellow was still sitting on his high stool to the left of the doorway, and there was nothing for it but to go by him if they wanted to get out of this place, and they could see that he saw them coming.
"Where the fuck you guys going?"
"I'm sorry, but we have to leave," said Addison.
"You just fucking got here. What's the matter, you don't like it here?"
"Oh, we like it fine," said Addison, "it's just that, uh, heh heh –"
"Just that what, 'heh heh'?" said the huge man, and he tapped his cigar ash to the floor, ignoring the Hotel St Crispian ashtray on the little table to his side.
"We have to go somewhere," said Milford.
"You 'have' to 'go' 'somewhere'."
"Yes," said Milford.
"Oh. Okay."
"Well, so then –" said Addison.
"May I ask youse a question?" said the big fellow.
"Yes?" said Addison.
"I mean if that's all right."
"Certainly."
The big man pointed his cigar at Milford.
"It okay with you, too?"
"Um, yes?" said Milford.
"Good then," said the huge man, and he looked at his cigar, blowing on the lighted end.
"Ask away," said Addison. "We are open books."
"Open books?" said the big man.
"Yes, uh," said Addison. "Like, uh –"
"Okay. My question is this," said the large man, looking at Addison, and then at Milford, and then back to Addison, and thence again to Milford. "My question is, where could two losers like youse possibly have to go to that is so fucking important."
"Look, sir," said Milford, "we've just been through all this with two gentlemen at the bar –"
"I don't give a shit what you've allegedly been through with two random fuckwads at the bar," said the big guy. "This is here and this is now, and I am asking you where the fuck you think you are going."
"We have to meet some ladies," said Addison.
"What?"
"There are some ladies we want to meet."
"Ladies."
"Yes," said Addison. "Nice ladies."
"Oh. 'Nice' ladies."
"Yes."
The man looked at Milford.
"Nice ladies?"
"Yes," said Milford. "I mean, pretty nice."
"Okay," said the big man. "Can I just say something?"
"Of course," said Addison.
The big man pointed his cigar at Milford.
"It jake with you if I say something?"
"Um, yes."
"What I have to say is simply this," said the man.
"Yes?" said Addison.
"This and only this."
"Okay," said Milford.
"What I have to say is that youse two don't have to fucking lie," said the man. "Youse don't got to lie about meeting some ladies, 'nice' or otherwise. Because, A, nobody is gonna believe you, and, B, nobody really gives a shit if you are lying. Nobody cares. I don't care. You want to leave? Fine. Leave. But don't give me some blatant horseshit about meeting ladies, 'nice' or otherwise. Okay? Do not insult my intelligence."
"Sorry," said Addison.
"Look around you," said the big man. "Go on, turn around and look at every motherfucker in this place."
Addison and Milford obediently turned around and looked, or pretended to look, and then turned back to face the big man on his stool.
"Good," said the man. "Now what did you see?"
"A lot of fellows?" said Addison.
"Doing what?"
"Drinking?"
"Yes," said the big man. "A lot of fellows, drinking. And did you see a single lady?"
"Um, no," said Addison.
"And do you know why you didn't see a single lady?"
"No," said Addison.
The big man looked at Milford.
"What about you, half-pint, you know why there ain't no ladies in here?"
"Is it a 'gentlemen only' establishment?"
"No, it is not a 'gentlemen only' establishment, schmuck. There ain't no ladies in here because there's only losers in here, and ladies don't like losers. And can you blame them?"
"No," said Milford.
The big fellow looked at Addison.
"What about you, pal? You blame 'em?"
"Um, no?" said Addison
"Okay," said the big man. "All right." He took a drag on his big cigar, the sort of drag that the cheap novelists both Milford and Addison really preferred to the literary kind would call "a contemplative drag".
"So we can go?" said Addison.
"Did I say you couldn't go?" said the big man.
"No," said Addison. "So –"
"'So' what?" said the big guy.
"So we can go?"
"You already asked me that."
"So, I guess we can go then?"
"Am I stopping you?"
"No."
"Okay, well, goodnight then," said Milford.
"Hold on just a second, sonny," said the huge man.
"Yes?" said Milford.
"Let me just ask youse one more question."
"Both of us?"
"Did I not employ the plural 'youse'?"
"Uh, yes, you did," said Milford.
"So my question as I say is for the two of youse."
He paused. The cheap novelists would say "paused for effect".
"Yes?" said Addison.
"Are youse implying that youse two are not losers?"
"What?" said Addison.
"Do I have a speech impediment? Did I mumble or speak too softly?"
"No," said Addison.
"Then answer the mother fucking question, or maybe I don't let youse out of here after all."
"No," said Addison.
"No what?"
"No, we do not imply that we are not losers," said Addison. "Far from it."
"Good answer," said the big man. He cast a cold eye on Milford. "What about you, shorty?"
"I was a loser the moment I was pulled, kicking and screaming, from my mother's womb," said Milford. "And I have not ceased to be a loser since then. And now may we leave?"
The man paused again, taking another great drag on his cigar.
"Very well," he said. "I take you both at your woids."
"Our what?" said Milford.
"You heard me," said the man. "Your woids."
"Oh," said Milford. "Our 'words' you mean."
"That's what I just said. Your 'woids'."
"Um, okay," said Milford.
"So," said Addison, "we bid you good night then, sir."
"My name ain't sir. My name is Gargantua."
"We bid you goodnight, uh, Gargantua," said Addison.
"That's better," said Gargantua. "And your name is Pattinson, right?"
"Uh, yes," said Addison, just wanting to escape.
"And you're Pettiford," said Gargantua to Milford.
"Right," said Milford.
"Well, listen, Harkington and Pufford," said Gargantua, "before I let youse go, I just want youse to promise me one thing."
"Yes?" said Addison.
"Just one thing."
"Okay," said Addison.
"One thing," said Gargantua, looking at Milford.
"Yes?" said Milford.
"Promise me this," said the big man, "that wherever you go, and for the rest of your lives, that you will continue to carry the banner of loserdom, high and proud. Because being a loser ain't nothing to be ashamed of." He paused again for a moment, looking from Addison to Milford and then back to Addison and again to Milford. "Will youse promise me this?"
"We promise," said Addison.
"What about you, Guildford," he said to Milford.
"I promise," said Milford.
"High and proud," said the big man called Gargantua. "And you know why?"
"Um," said Addison.
"You know why?" said Gargantua, staring at Milford.
"Uh," said Milford.
"Because," said the man.
"Because?" said Addison.
"Because," said Gargantua. He looked at Milford again. "Because."
"Because?" said Milford.
"Because we all fucking lose in the end," said the big man.
"Oh," said Addison.
"Um," said Milford.
"Now get out of my sight," said the huge man. "The both of yez. And please enjoy the imaginary company of these imaginary 'nice' ladies. Oh, and one more thing."
"Yes?" said Addison.
The big bearded man fixed his eye on Milford.
"Just one more little thing."
"Um, yes?" said Milford.
"Just this. When you are making the imaginary beast with two backs with these imaginary nice 'ladies', I want youse both –" again he looked from Addison to Milford, then back to Addison, then to Milford, and back to Addison, "I want youse both to think of me. Will yez do that?"
"Yes," said Addison.
"What about you, Potford? Will you do that for me? When you're committing the imaginary act of darkness with these imaginary 'nice' ladies, will you think of me, if only just for one brief flickering moment?"
"Yes, sir," said Milford.
"'Yes, Gargantua'."
"Yes, Gargantua."
"All right, now get out of here, both of yez. I don't know where yez think you're going, and, frankly, I don't give a shit, but get out of here anyways – and, please, enjoy your little 'imaginary' escapades. Something tells me you'll be back here soon enough. Where you belong. With all the rest of the losers. Now go. You disgust me, the pair of yez. Although in some weird way I admire yez, a lot, and I don't know why. Now go on, fuck off outa here before I change my mind."
The two friends began to pass tentatively by the big man, when abruptly Addison stopped.
"Oh, by the way, Gargantua is it?"
"Yes."
"I wonder if I may ask you a question."
"Addison," said Milford, "let's just go."
"No," said Gargantua. "It's all right. What's your question, Archerman?"
"Do you happen to know this bar, it's a Negro bar, I think it's called the Hideyway?"
"The Hideaway?"
"Yes, that's it."
"Sure I know it. Nice stopping place. What about it?"
"Oh, thank God. Could you tell us how to find it?"
"Certainly. Just go out the door, and then go left. Pretty soon you're gonna reach a corner, and make another left there. Actually you got to make a left there, because that's the only direction you can go in. Keep going and after a while you're gonna reach a sort of crossroads, where you can go straight ahead or to the right or left. Go right. Keep going and then you're gonna get to a dead end, but there will be another corridor going right and left. Go right, and keep going until you see the sign for the Hideaway. You can't miss it."
"Okay, thanks," said Addison.
"Tell 'em Gargantua sent you, and even though youse are white they should let you in."
"Oh, they know us there."
"No kidding. I am impressed. Maybe youse two ain't such losers after all."
"Oh, no, we're still losers all right, ha ha."
"Ha ha, now get the fuck out of here."
"Okay, good night," said Addison. "And thank you."
The big man turned away.
"Addison," said Milford, in a low voice, "let's go."
"Okay," said Addison, also in a low voice.
They stepped to the door, Addison opened it, Milford went through, and Addison followed him, closing the door behind him.
The sounds of the jukebox and of laughing and shouting drunken men, which they had barely been aware of, just as fish are presumably unaware of the water in which they live, these noises were now muffled, and the hallway in which they stood was silent, and dim.
Addison's Chesterfield had burnt down to its last half-inch, and he dropped it to the floor.
"Which way did he say?"
"I wasn't really listening," said Milford. He could see that Addison's cigarette butt was still burning, and so he stepped on it with the sole of his sturdy workman's brogan.
"Okay, whatever, let's go this way," said Addison, gesturing to the right. "It must lead somewhere."
And they headed to the right, both of them realizing that there was an even chance they were headed in the wrong direction, but, on the other hand, it was an even chance that this was the right way.
{Please go here to read the unexpurgated "adult comix" version in A Flophouse Is Not a Home, profusely illustrated by the illustrious Rhoda Penmarq…}
