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第45部分（第2页）

with　their　brown　bags　and　their　Thunderbird　and　their　Granddad　Flashs　Popskull

Bourbon。　Youre　away　from　all　the　people　who　throw　you　nasty　looks　and　tell　you

to　clean　up　your　act　or　go　put　it　on　in　another　town。　From　the　gutter；　thats

the　finest…lookin　Wagon　you　ever　saw；　Lloyd　my　boy。　All　hung　with　bunting　and　a

brass　band　in　front　and　three　majorettes　to　each　side；　twirling　their　batons　and

flashing　their　panties　at　you。　Man；　you　got　to　get　on　that　Wagon　and　away　from

the　juicers　that　are　straining　canned　heat　and　smelling　their　own　puke　to　get

high　again　and　poking　along　the　gutter　for　butts　with　half　an　inch　left　below

the　filter。〃

He　drained　two　more　imaginary　drinks　and　tossed　the　glasses　back　over　his

shoulder。　He　could　almost　hear　them　smashing　on　the　floor。　And　goddam　if　he

wasnt　starting　to　feel　high。　It　was　the　Excedrin。

〃So　you　climb　up；〃　he　told　Lloyd。　〃and　aint　you　glad　to　be　there。　My　God　yes；

thats　affirmative。　That　Wagon　is　the　biggest　and　best　float　in　the　whole

parade；　and　everybody　is　lining　the　streets　and　clapping　and　cheering　and

waving；　all　for　you。　Except　for　the　winos　passed　out　in　the　gutter。　Those　guys

used　to　be　your　friends；　but　thats　all　behind　you　now。〃

He　carried　his　empty　fist　to　his　mouth　and　sluiced　down　another　—　four　down；

sixteen　to　go。　Making　excellent　progress。　He　swayed　a　little　on　the　stool。　Let

em　stare；　if　that　was　how　they　got　off。　Take　a　picture；　folks；　itll　last

longer。

〃Then　you　start　to　see　things；　Lloydy…my…boy。　Things　you　missed　from　the

gutter。　Like　how　the　floor　of　the　Wagon　is　nothing　but　straight　pine　boards；　so

fresh　theyre　still　bleeding　sap；　and　if　you　took　your　shoes　off　youd　be　sure

to　get　a　splinter。　Like　how　the　only　furniture　in　the　Wagon　is　these　long

benches　with　high　backs　and　no　cushions　to　sit　on；　and　in　fact　they　are　nothing

but　pews　with　a　songbook　every　five　feet　or　so。　Like　how　all　the　people　sitting

in　the　pews　on　the　Wagon　are　these　flatchested　el　birdos　in　long　dresses　with　a

little　lace　around　the　collar　and　their　hair　pulled　back　into　buns　until　its　so

tight　you　can　almost　hear　it　screaming。　And　every　face　is　flat　and　pale　and

shiny；　and　theyre　all　singing　‘Shall　we　gather　at　the　riiiiver；　the　beautiful；

the　beautiful；　the　riiiiiver；　and　up　front　theres　this　reekin　bitch　with　blond

hair　playing　the　organ　and　tellin　em　to　sing　louder；　sing　louder。　And　somebody

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