19

   The deal in Muncie is this: I am to get whupped by the Turd.
   Mike tell me that on our ride up there. It seem that The Turd has got “seniority” over me an therefore he is due for a win, an bein that it’s my first appearance, it is necessary for me to be on the losin end. Mike say he jus want to tell me how it is from the beginnin so there won’t be no hard feelins.
   “That is rediculous,” Jenny say, “somebody callin theyself ‘The Turd.’ “
   “He probly is one,” Dan say, tryin to cheer her up.
   “Just remember, Forrest,” Mike says, “it’s all for show. You can’t lose your temper. Nobody is to be hurt. The Turd must win.”
   Well, when we finally git to Muncie, they is a big ole auditorium where the rasslin is to be helt. One bout is already in progress—The Vegetable is rasslin a guy that calls hissef “The Animal.”
   The Animal is hairy as a ape, an is wearin a black mask over his eyes, an the first thing he does is to snatch off the hollered-out watermelon that The Vegetable is got over his head an drop kick it into the upper bleachers. Nex, he grapped The Vegetable by his head an ram him into the ring post. Then he bite The Vegetable on the han. I was feelin kinda sorry for the po ole Vegetable, but he got a few tricks hissef—namely, he reached down into the collard green leaves he is wearin for a jockstrap an grapped a hanful of some kind of shit an rub it in The Animal’s eyes.
   The Animal be bellowin an staggerin all over the ring rubbin his eyes to git the stuff out, an The Vegetable come up behin him an kick him in the ass. Then he thowed The Animal into the ropes an wind them up aroun him so’s he can’t move an start to beatin the hell outta The Animal. The crowd be booin The Vegetable an thowin paper cups an stuff at him an The Vegetable be givin them back the finger. I was gettin kinda curious how it was gonna wind up, but then Mike come up to me an Dan an say for us to go on back into the dressin room an get into my costume cause I’m on nex against The Turd.

   After I get into my diapers an the dunce cap, somebody knock on the door an axe, “Is The Dunce in there?” an Dan say, “Yes,” an the feller say, “You is on now, c’mon out,” an off we go.
   The Turd is already in the ring when I come down the aisle with Dan pushin hissef along behin me. The Turd is runnin aroun the ring makin faces at the crowd an damn if he don’t actually look somethin like a turd in that body stockin. Anyhow, I climbed up in the ring an the referee get us together an say, “Okay, boys, I want a good clean match here—no gougin eyes or hittin below the belt or bitin or scratchin or any kind of shit like that. I nod an say, “Uh-huh,” an The Turd be glarin at me fiercely.
   When the bell rung, me an The Turd be circlin each other an he reached out with his foot to trip me but missed an I grapped him by the shoulders an slung him into the ropes. It was then I foun out he have greased hissef up with some kinda slippery shit that make him hard to hold on to. I tried to grap him aroun his waist but he shot out from my hans like a eel. I took a holt of his arm, but he squished away from that too, an be grinnin an laughin at me.
   Then he come runnin at me head on to butt me in the stomach but I stepped aside an The Turd go flyin thru the ropes an land in the front row. Everbody be booin an catcallin him, but he climbed on back up in the ring an brung with him a foldup chair. He start chasin me aroun with the chair an since I got nothin to defend mysef with, I start to run away. But The Turd, he hit me in the back with the chair, an let me tell you, that hurt. I tried to get the chair away from him, but he conked me on the head with it, an I was in a corner an there wadn’t no place to hide. Then he kicked me in the shin an when I bend over to hole my shin, he kick me in the other shin.
   Dan is settin on the ring apron yellin at the referee to make The Turd put down the chair, but it ain’t doin no good. The Turd hit me four or five times with the chair an knock me down an get on top of me an grap my hair an start bangin my head on the floor. Then he grap holt to my arm an begun twistin my fingers. I look over at Dan an say, “What the hell is this?” an Dan be tryin to get thru the ring ropes but Mike, he stand up an pull Dan back by his shirt collar. Then all of a sudden the bell rung, an I get to go to my corner.
   “Listen,” I says, “this bastid is tryin to kill me, beatin me on the head with a chair an all. I is gonna have to do somethin bout it.”
   “What you is gonna do is lose,” Mike say. “He ain’t tryin to hurt you—he is just tryin to make it look good.”
   “It sure don’t feel good,” I say.
   “Jus stay in there for a few more minutes an then let him pin you down,” Mike says. “Remember, you is makin five hundrit dollars for comin here an losin—not winnin.”
   “He hits me with that chair again, I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” I says. I am lookin out in the audience an there is Jenny lookin upset an embarrassed. I am beginnin to think this is not the right thing to do.
   Anyhow, the bell rung again an out I go. The Turd try to grap me by the hair but I flung him off an he go spinnin into the ropes like a top. Then I picked him up aroun the waist an lif him up but he slid out of my grip an land on his ass an be moanin an complainin an rubbin his ass, an the nex thing I knew, his manager done handed him one of them “plumber’s helpers” with the rubber thing on the end an he commence to beat me on the head with that. Well, I grapped it away from him an busted it in two over my knee an start goin after him, but I see Mike there, shakin his head, an so I let The Turd come an take holt of my arm an twist it in a hammerlock.
   The sumbitch damn near broke my arm. Then he shoved me down on the canvas an begun to hit me in the back of the head with his elbow. I coud see Mike over there, noddin an smilin his approval. The Turd get off me an commenced to kickin me in the ribs an stomach, then he got his chair again an wacked me over the head with it eight or nine times an finally he kneed me in the back an there wadn’t a thing I coud do bout it.
   I jus lay there, an he set on my head an the referee counted to three an it was sposed to be over. The Turd get up an look down at me an he spit in my face. It was awful an I didn’t know what else to do, an I jus couldn’t hep it, an I started to cry.
   The Turd was prancin aroun the ring an then Dan come up an rolled himsef over to me an started wipin my face with a towel, an nex thing I knew, Jenny had come up in the ring too an was huggin me an cryin hersef an the crowd was hollerin an yellin an throwin stuff into the ring.
   “C’mon, let’s get outta here,” Dan say, an I got to my feet an The Turd be stickin out his tongue at me an makin faces.
   “You is certainly correctly named,” Jenny says to The Turd as we was leavin the ring. “That was disgraceful.”
   She could of said it bout both of us. I ain’t never felt so humiliated in my life.

   The ride back to Indianapolis was pretty awkward. Dan an Jenny ain’t sayin nothin much an I am in the back seat all sore an skint up.
   “That was a damn good performance you put on out there tonight, Forrest,” Mike says, “especially the cryin at the end—crowd loved it!”
   “It wadn’t no performance,” Dan says.
   “Oh, shucks,” Mike say. “Look—somebody’s always got to lose. I’ll tell you what—nex time, I will make sure Forrest wins. How’s that make you feel?”
   “Ought not to be any ‘nex time,’ “ Jenny says.
   “He made good money tonight, didn’t he?” Mike say.
   “Five hundrit dollars for gettin the shit beat out of him ain’t so good,” Jenny says.
   “Well it was his first match. Tell you what—nex time, I’ll make it six hundrit.”
   “How about twelve hundrit?” Dan axed.
   “Nine hundrit,” Mike says.
   “How bout lettin him wear a bathin suit instead of that dunce cap an diapers?” says Jenny.
   “They loved it,” Mike says. “It’s part of his appeal.”
   “How would you like to have to dress up in somethin like that?” Dan says.
   “I ain’t a idiot,” says Mike.
   “You shut the fuck up bout that,” Dan say.

   Well, Mike was good for his word. Nex time I rassled, it was against a feller called “The Human Fly.” He was dressed up in somethin with a big pointed snout like a fly have, an a mask with big ole bugged-out eyes. I got to thow him bout the ring an finally set on his head an I collected my nine hundrit dollars. Furthermore, everbody in the crowd cheered wildly an kep hollerin, “We want The Dunce! We want The Dunce!” It wadn’t such a bad deal.
   Nex, I got to rassle The Fairy, an they even let me bust his wand over his head. After that, they was a hole bunch of guys I come up against, an Dan an me had managed to save up about five thousan dollars for the srimp bidness. But also let me say this: I was gettin very popular with the crowds. Women was writin me letters an they even begun to sell dunce caps like mine as souvenirs. Sometimes I’d go into the ring an they would be fifty or a hundrit people settin there in the audience wearin dunce caps, all clappin an cheerin an callin out my name. Kinda made me feel good, you know?
   Meantime, me an Jenny is gettin along fairly good cept for my rasslin career. Ever night when she get back to the apartment we cook ourselfs some supper an her an me an Dan set aroun in the livin room an plan bout how we gonna start the srimp bidness. The way we figger it, we is gonna go down to Bayou La Batre, where po ole Bubba come from, an get us some marsh land off the Gulf of Mexico someplace. We has got to buy us some mesh wire an nets an a little rowboat an somethin to feed the srimp wile they growin, an they will be other things too. Dan say we has also got to be able to have us a place to live an buy groceries an stuff wile we wait for our first profits an also have some way to git them to the market. All tole, he figgers it is gonna take bout five thousan dollars to set everthing up for the first year—after that, we will be on our own.
   The problem I got now is with Jenny. She say we already got the five thousan an so why don’t we jus go ahead an pack up an go down there? Well, she have a point there, but to be perfectly truthful, I jus ain’t quite ready to leave.
   You see, it ain’t really been since we played them Nebraska corn shucker jackoffs at the Orange Bowl that I has really felt like I done accomplished somethin. Maybe for a little bit durin the ping-pong games in Red China, but that lasted just for a few weeks. But now, you see, ever Saturday night ever week, I am goin out there an hearin them cheer. An they is cheerin me–idiot or not.
   You should of heard them cheer when I whupped The Grosse Pointe Grinder, who come into the ring with hundrit dollar bills glued to his body. An then they was “Awesome Al from Amarillo,” that I done put a Boston Crab hold on an won mysef the Eastern Division champeenship belt. After that, I got to rassle Juno the Giant, who weighed four hundrit pounds an dressed in a leopard skin an carried a papier-mache club.
   But one day when Jenny come home from work she say, “Forrest, you an me has got to have a talk.”
   We went outside an took a walk near a little creek an Jenny foun a place to set down, an then she say, “Forrest, I think this rasslin business is gone far enough.”
   “What you mean?” I axed, even though I kind of knew.
   “I mean we have got nearly ten thousan dollars now, which is more than twice what Dan says we need to start the srimp business. And I am beginnin to wonder jus why you are continuin to go up there ever Saturday night an make a fool of yoursef.”
   “I ain’t makin no fool of mysef,” I says, “I has got my fans to think of. I am a very popular person. Cain’t jus up an leave like that.”
   “Bullshit,” Jenny say. “What you callin a ‘fan,’ an what you mean by ‘popular’? Them people is a bunch of screwballs to be payin money to watch all that shit. Bunch of grown men gettin up there in they jockstraps an pretendin to hurt each other. An whoever heard of people callin theyselfs ‘The Vegetable,’ or ‘The Turd,’ an such as that—an you, callin yoursef ‘The Dunce’!”
   “What’s wrong with that?” I axed.
   “Well how do you think it makes me feel, the feller I’m in love with bein known far an wide as ‘The Dunce,’ an makin a spectacle of hissef ever week—an on television, too!”
   “We get extra money for the television,” I says.
   “Screw the extra money,” Jenny says. “We don’t need no extra money!”
   “Whoever heard of nobody didn’t need any extra money?” I say.
   “We don’t need it that bad,” Jenny say. “I mean, what I want is to find a little quiet place for us to be in an for you to get a respectable job, like the srimp business—for us to get us a little house maybe an have a garden an maybe a dog or somethin—maybe even kids. I done had my share of fame with The Cracked Eggs, an it didn’t get me nowhere. I wadn’t happy. I’m damned near thirty-five years old. I want to settle down….”
   “Look,” I says, “it seem to me that I oughta be the one what say if I quit or not. I ain’t gonna do this forever—jus till it is the right time.”
   “Well I ain’t gonna wait aroun forever, neither,” Jenny say, but I didn’t believe she meant it.

20

   I had a couple of matches after that an won both of them, naturally, an then Mike call Dan an me in his office one day an says, “Look here, this week you are gonna rassle The Professor.”
   “Who is that?” Dan axed.
   “He comes from California,” says Mike, “an is pretty hot stuff out there. He is runner up to the Western Division champion.”
   “Okay by me,” I say.
   “But there is just one other thing,” say Mike. “This time, Forrest, you got to lose.”
   “Lose?” I says.
   “Lose,” say Mike. “Look, you been winnin ever week for months an months. Don’t you see you got to lose ever once in a wile to keep up your popularity?”
   “How you figger that?”
   “Simple. People like a underdog. Makes you look better the nex time.”
   “I don’t like it,” I say.
   “How much you payin?” Dan axed.
   “Two thousan.”
   “I don’t like it,” I says again.
   “Two thousan’s a lot of money,” Dan say.
   “I still don’t like it,” I says.
 
   But I took the deal.
   Jenny is been actin sort of peculiar lately, but I put it down to nerves or somethin. Then one day she come home an say, “Forrest, I’m at the end of my rope. Please don’t go out there an do this.”
   “I got to,” I says. “Anyhow, I is gonna lose.”
   “Lose?” she say. I splain it to her jus like Mike splain it to me, an she say, “Awe shit, Forrest, this is too much.”
   “It’s my life,” I says—whatever that meant.
   Anyway, a day or so later, Dan come back from someplace an says him an me got to have a talk.
   “Forrest, I think I got the solution to our problems.”
   I axed what it was.
   “I think,” says Dan, “we better be bailin out of this business pretty soon. I know Jenny don’t like it, an if we are gonna start our srimp thing, we best be on bout it. But,” he say, “I think I got a way to bail out an clean up at the same time.”
   “How’s that?” I axed.
   “I been talkin to a feller downtown. He runs a bookie operation an the word is out you gonna lose to The Professor this Saturday.”
   “So?” I says.
   “So what if you win?”
   “Win?”
   “Kick his ass.”
   “I get in trouble with Mike,” I says.
   “Screw Mike,” Dan say. “Look, here’s the deal. Spose we take the ten thousan we got an bet it on you to win? Two-to-one odds. Then you kick his ass an we got twenty grand.”
   “But I’ll be in all sorts of trouble,” I says.
   “We take the twenty grand an blow this town,” Dan say. “You know what we can do with twenty grand? We can start one hell of a srimp business an have a pile left over for ourselves. I’m thinkin maybe it’s time to get out of this rasslin stuff anyway.”
   Well, I’m thinkin Dan is the manager, an also that Jenny has said I gotta get out of rasslin too, an twenty grand ain’t a bad deal.
   “What you think?” Dan says.
   “Okay,” I say. “Okay.”
 
   The day come for me to rassle The Professor. The bout is to be helt up at Fort Wayne, an Mike come by to pick us up an is blowin the horn outside, an I axed Jenny if she is ready.
   “I ain’t goin,” she say. “I’ll watch it on television.”
   “But you got to go,” I says, an then I axed Dan to splain why.
   Dan tole Jenny what the plan was, an that she had to go, on account of we needed somebody to drive us back to Indianapolis after I done whupped The Professor.
   “Neither of us can drive,” he say, “an we gonna have to have a fast car right outside the arena when it’s over to get us back here to collect the twenty grand from the bookie an then hightail it out of town.”
   “Well, I ain’t havin nothin to do with a deal like that,” Jenny say.
   “But it’s twenty grand,” I says.
   “Yeah, an it’s dishonest too,” she says.
   “Well, it’s dishonest what he’s been doin all the time,” Dan says, “winnin an losin all planned out beforehand.”
   “I ain’t gonna do it,” Jenny said, an Mike was blowin his horn again, an Dan say, “Well, we gotta go. We’ll see you back here sometime after it’s over—one way or the other.”
   “You fellers oughta be ashamed of yourselfs,” Jenny say.
   “You won’t be so high-falutin when we come back with twenty thousan smackeroos in our pocket,” Dan says.
   Anyhow, off we go.
 
   On the ride to Fort Wayne, I ain’t sayin much on account of I’m kinda embarrassed bout what I’m fixin to do to ole Mike. He ain’t treated me so badly, but on the other han, as Dan have splained, I has made a lot of money for him too, so it gonna come out aroun even.
   We get to the arena an the first bout is already on—Juno the Giant is gettin the hell kicked out of him by The Fairy. An nex up is a tag team match between lady midgets. We gone on into the dressin room an I put on my diapers an dunce cap. Dan, he get somebody to dial the number of the taxicab company an arrange for a cab to be there outside with its motor runnin after my match.
   They beat on my door an it’s time to go on. Me an The Professor is the feature bout of the evenin.
   He is already there in the ring when I come out. The Professor is a little wiry guy with a beard an wearin spectacles an he have on a black robe an morter-board hat. Damn if he don’t look like a professor at that. I decided right then to make him eat that hat.
   Well, I climb on up in the ring an the announcer say, “Ladies an Gentlemen.” At this there be a lot of boos, an then he say, “We is proud tonight to have as our main attraction for the North American Professional Rasslin Association title bout two of the top contenders in the country—The Professor versus The Dunce!”
   At this, they is so much booin an cheerin that it is impossible to say if the crowd is happy or angry. It don’t matter nohow, cause then the bell ring an the match is on.
   The Professor has taken off his robe, glasses, an the morter-board hat an is circlin me, shakin his finger at me like I’m bein scolded. I be tryin to grap a holt of him, but ever time, he jump out of the way an keep shakin his finger. This go on for a minute or two an then he make a mistake. He run aroun behin me an try to kick me in the ass, but I done snatched a holt of him by the arm an slung him into the ropes. He come boundin off the ropes like a slingshot ball an as he go past me I trip him up an was bout to pounce on him with the Bellybuster maneuver, but he done scrambled out of the way to his corner an when I look up, he is got a big ole ruler in his han.
   He be whoppin the ruler in his palm like he gonna spank me with it, but instead, when I grapped for him this time, he done jam the ruler in my eye, like to gouge it out. I’ll tell you this—it hurt, an I was stumblin aroun tryin to get my sight back when he run up behin me an put somethin down my diapers. Didn’t take long to find out what it was—it was ants! Where he got them, lord knows, but the ants commence to bitin me an I was in a awful fix.
   Dan is there, hollerin for me to finish him off, but it ain’t no easy thing with ants in your pants. Anyhow, the bell rung an that was the end of the roun an I go on back to my corner an Dan be tryin to get the ants out.
   “That was a dirty trick,” I say.
   “Just finish him,” Dan says, “we can’t afford no screwups.”
   The Professor come out for the secont round an be makin faces at me. Then he get close enough for me to snatch him up an I lifted him over my head an begun doin the Airplane Spin.
   I spinned him aroun bout forty or fifty times till I was pretty sure he was dizzy an then heaved him hard as I could over the ropes into the audience. He land up in bout the fifth row of bleachers in the lap of a ole woman who is knittin a sweater, an she start beatin him with a umbrella.
   Trouble is, the Airplane Spin have taken its toll on me too. Everthin spinnin aroun but I figger it don’t matter cause it’ll stop pretty soon, an The Professor, he is finished anyway. In this, I am wrong.
   I am almost recovered from the spinnin when all of a sudden somethin got me by the ankles. I look down, an damn if The Professor ain’t climbed back in the ring an brought with him the ball of yarn the ole lady was knittin with, an now he done rapped it aroun my feet.
   I started tryin to wriggle out, but The Professor be runnin circles aroun me with the yarn, rappin me up like a mummy. Pretty soon, I am tied up han an foot an cain’t move or nothin. The Professor stop an tie the yarn up in a little fancy knot an stand in front of me an take a bow—like he is a magician just done some trick or somethin.
   Then he saunter over to his corner an get a big ole book—look like a dictionary—an come back an take another bow. An then he crack me on the head with the book. Ain’t nothin I can do. He must of cracked me ten or twelve times before I gone down. I am helpless an I am hearin everbody cheer as The Professor set on my shoulders an pin me—an win the match.
   Mike an Dan, they come in the ring an unraveled the yarn off me an heped me up.
   “Terrific!” Mike say, “Just terrific! I couldn’t of planned it better mysef!”
   “Oh shut up,” Dan say. An then he turn to me. “Well,” he say, “this is a fine state of affairs—gettin yoursef outsmarted by The Professor.”
   I ain’t sayin nothin. I am miserable. Everthin is lost an the one thing I know for sure is that I ain’t gonna rassle never again.
 
   We didn’t need the getaway cab after that, so Dan an me rode back to Indianapolis with Mike. All the drive back, he be sayin how great it was that I lost to The Professor that way, an how nex time I gonna get to win an make everbody thousans of dollars.
   When he pull up in front of the apartment, Mike reach back an han Dan a envelope with the two thousan dollars he was gonna pay me for the match.
   “Don’t take it,” I says.
   “What?” says Mike.
   “Listen,” I say. “I got to tell you somethin.”
   Dan cut in. “What he wants to say is, he ain’t gonna be rasslin no more.”
   “You kiddin?” Mike say.
   “Ain’t kiddin,” says Dan.
   “Well how come?” Mike axed. “What’s wrong, Forrest?”
   Before I could say anythin, Dan say, “He don’t want to talk about it now.”
   “Well,” says Mike, “I understan, I guess. You go get a good night’s sleep. I’ll be back first thing in the mornin an we can talk bout it, okay?”
   “Okay,” Dan says, an we get out of the car. When Mike is gone, I says, “You shouldn’t of took the money.”
   “Well it’s all the hell we got left now,” he say. Everthin else is gone. I didn’t realize till a few minutes later how right he was.
   We get to the apartment an lo an behole, Jenny is gone too. All her things is gone, cept she lef us some clean sheets an towels an some pots an pans an stuff. On the table in the livin room is a note. Dan foun it first, an he read it out loud to me.
 
   Dear Forrest, [it says]
   I am just not able to take this anymore. I have tried to talk to you about my feelings, and you don’t seem to care. There is something particularly bad about what you are gonna do tonight, because it isn’t honest, and I am afraid I cannot go on with you any longer.
   Maybe it is my fault, partly, because I have gotten to an age where I need to settle down. I think about having a house and a family and goin to church and things like that. I have known you since the first grade, Forrest—nearly thirty years—and have watched you grow up big and strong and fine. And when I finally realized how much I cared for you—when you came up to Boston—I was the happiest girl in the world.
   And then you took to smoking too much dope, and you fooled with those girls down in Provincetown, an even after that, I missed you, and was glad you came to Washington during the peace demonstration to see me.
   But when you got shot up in the spaceship and were lost in the jungle nearly four years, I think maybe I changed. I am not as hopeful as I used to be, and think I would be satisfied with just a simple life somewhere. So, now I must go an find it.
   Something is changed in you, too, dear Forrest. I don’t think you can help it exactly, for you were always a “special” person, but we no longer seem to think the same way.
   I am in tears as I write this, but we must part now. Please don’t try to find me. I wish you well, my darling—good-bye.
   love,
   Jenny
 
   Dan handed the note to me but I let it drop on the floor an just stood there, realizin for the first time in my life what it is truly like to be a idiot.

21

   Well, after that I was one sorry bastid.
   Dan an me stayed at the apartment that nite, but the nex mornin started packin up our shit an all, cause there wadn’t no reason to be in Indianapolis no longer. Dan, he come to me an say, “Here, Forrest, take this money,” an helt out the two thousand dollars Mike had give us for rasslin The Professor.
   “I don’t want it,” I says.
   “Well you better take it,” says Dan, “cause it’s all we got.”
   “You keep it,” I says.
   “At least take haf of it,” he say. “Look, you gotta have some travelin money. Get you to wherever your goin.”
   “Ain’t you goin with me?” I axed.
   “I’m afraid not, Forrest,” he says. “I think I done enough damage already. I didn’t sleep none last night. I’m thinkin about how I got you to agree to bet all our money, an how I got you to keep on rasslin when it oughta have been apparent Jenny was about to freak out on us. An it wadn’t your fault you got whupped by The Professor. You did what you could. I am the one to blame. I jus ain’t no good.”
   “Awe, Dan, it wadn’t your fault neither,” I says. “If I hadn’t of got the big head bout bein The Dunce, an begun to believe all that shit they was sayin bout me, I wouldn’t of got in this fix in the first place.”
   “Whatever it is,” Dan say, “I jus don’t feel right taggin along anymore. You got other fish to fry now. Go an fry em. Forget about me. I ain’t no good.”
   Well, me an Dan talked for a long time, but there wadn’t no convincin him, an after a wile, he got his shit an I hepped him down the steps, an the last I seen of him, he was pushin hissef down the street on his little cart, with all his clothes an shit piled in his lap.

   I went down to the bus station an bought a ticket to Mobile. It was sposed to be a two day an two nite trip, down thru Louisville, to Nashville, to Birmingham an then Mobile, an I was one miserable idiot, settin there wile the bus rolled along.
   We passed thru Louisville durin the nite, an the nex day we stopped in Nashville an had to change busses. It was about a three hour wait, so I decided to walk aroun town for a wile. I got me a sambwich at a lunch counter an a glass of iced tea an was walkin down the street when I seen a big sign in front of a hotel say, “Welcome Grandmaster’s Invitational Chess Tournament.”
   It sort of got my curiosity up, on account of I had played all that chess back in the jungle with Big Sam, an so I went on into the hotel. They was playin the chess game in the ballroom an had a big mob of people watchin, but a sign say, “Five dollars admission,” and I didn’t want to spend none of my money, but I looked in thru the door for a wile, an then jus went an set down in the lobby by mysef.
   They was a chair across from me with a little ole man settin in it. He was all shriveled up an grumpy-lookin an had on a black suit with spats an a bow tie an he had a chessboard set out on a table in front of him.
   As I set there, ever once in a wile he would move one of the chessmen, an it begun to dawn on me that he was playin by hissef. I figgered I had bout another hour or so fore the bus lef, so I axed him if he wanted somebody to play with. He jus looked at me an then looked back down at his chessboard an didn’t say nothin.
   A little bit later, the ole feller’d been studyin the chessboard for most of a half hour an then he moved his white bishop over to black square seven an was jus bout to take his han off it when I says, “ ‘scuse me.”
   The feller jumped like he’d set on a tack, an be glarin across the table at me.
   “You make that move,” I says, “an you be leavin yoursef wide open to lose your knight an then your queen an put your ass in a fix.”
   He look down at his chessboard, never takin his han off the bishop, an then he move it back an say to me, “Possibly you are right.”
   Well, he go on back to studyin the chessboard an I figger it’s time to get back to the bus station, but jus as I start to leave, the ole man say, “Pardon me, but that was a very shrewd observation you made.”
   I nod my head, an then he say, “Look, you’ve obviously played the game, why don’t you sit down an finish this one with me? Just take over the white in their positions now.”
   “I cain’t,” I says, cause I got to catch the bus an all. So he jus nods an gives me a little salute with his han an I went on back to the bus station.
   Time I get there, the damn bus done lef anyway, an here I am an ain’t no other bus till tomorrow. I jus cain’t do nothin right. Well, I got a day to kill, so I walked on back to the hotel an there is the little ole man still playin against hissef, an he seems to be winnin. I went on up to him an he look up an motion for me to set down. The situation I have come into is pretty miserable—haf my pawns gone an I ain’t got but one bishop an no rooks an my queen is about to be captured nex.
   It took me most of a hour to git mysef back in a even position, an the ole man be kinda gruntin an shakin his head evertime I improve my situation. Finally, I dangle a gambit in front of him. He took it, an three moves later I got him in check.
   “I will be damned,” he say. “Just who are you, anyway?”
   I tole him my name, an he say, “No, I mean, where have you played? I don’t even recognize you.”
   When I tole him I learnt to play in New Guinea, an he say, “Good heavens! An you mean to say you haven’t even been in regional competition?”
   I shook my head an he says, “Well whether you know it or not, I am a former international grand master, and you have just stepped into a game you couldn’t possibily have won, and totally annihilated me!”
   I axed how come he wadn’t playin in the room with the other people, an he says, “Oh, I played earlier. I’m nearly eighty years old now, an there is a sort of senior tournament. The real glory is to the younger fellows now—their minds are jus sharper.”
   I nodded my head an thanked him for the game an got up to go, but he says, “Listen, have you had your supper yet?”
   I tole him I had a sambwich a few hours ago, an he say, “Well how about letting me buy you dinner? After all, you gave me a superb game.”
   I said that woud be okay, an we went into the hotel dinin room. He was a nice man. Mister Tribble was his name.

   “Look,” Mister Tribble say wile we is havin dinner, “I’d have to play you a few more games to be sure, but unless your playing this evening was a total fluke, you are perhaps one of the brightest unrecognized talents in the game. I would like to sponsor you in a tournament or two, and see what happens.”
   I tole him about headin home an wantin to get into the srimp bidness and all, but he say, “Well, this could be the opportunity of a lifetime for you, Forrest. You could make a lot of money in this game, you know.” He said for me to think it over tonight, an let him know somethin in the mornin. So me an Mister Tribble shook hans, an I went on out in the street.
   I done wandered aroun for a wile, but they ain’t a lot to see in Nashville, an finally I wound up settin on a bench in a park. I was tryin to think, which don’t exactly come easy to me, an figger out what to do now. My mind was mostly on Jenny an where she is. She say not to try to find her or nothin, but they is a feelin down deep in me someplace that she ain’t forgot me. I done made a fool of mysef in Indianapolis, an I know it. I think it was that I wadn’t tryin to do the right thing. An now, I ain’t sure what the right thing is. I mean, here I am, ain’t got no money to speak of, an I got to have some to start up the srimp bidness, an Mister Tribble say I can win a good bit on the chess circuit. But it seem like ever time I do somethin besides tryin to get home an get the srimp bidness started, I get my big ass in hot water—so here I am again, wonderin what to do.
   I ain’t been wonderin long when up come a policeman an axe me what I’m doin.
   I says I’m jus settin here thinkin, an he say ain’t nobody allowed to set an think in the park at night an for me to move along. I go on down the street, an the policeman be followin me. I didn’t know where to go, so after a wile I saw an alley an walked on back in it an foun a place to set down an rest my feet. I ain’t been settin there more’n a minute when the same ole policeman come by an see me there.
   “All right,” he say, “come on outta there.” When I get out to the street, he say, “What you doin in there?”
   I says, “Nothin,” an he say, “That’s exactly what I thought—you is under arrest for loiterin.”
   Well, he take me to the jail an lock me up an then in the mornin they say I can make one phone call if I want. Course I didn’t know nobody to phone but Mister Tribble, so that’s what I did. Bout haf a hour later, he shows up at the police station an springs me out of jail.
   Then he buys me a big ole breakfast at the hotel an says, “Listen, why don’t you let me enter you in the interzonal championships next week in Los Angeles? First prize is ten thousan dollars. I will pay for all your expenses an we will split any money you win. Seems to me you need a stake of some sort, and, to tell you the truth, I would enjoy it immensely mysef. I will be your coach and adviser. How bout it?”
   I still had some doubts, but I figgered it wouldn’t hurt to try. So I said I woud do it for a wile. Till I got enough money to start the srimp thing. An me an Mister Tribble shook hans an become partners.

   Los Angeles was quite a sight. We got there a week early an Mister Tribble would spend most of the day coachin me an honin down my game, but after a wile of this, he jus shook his head an say there ain’t no sense in tryin to coach me, cause I got “every move in the book” already. So what we did was, we went out on the town.
   Mister Tribble took me to Disneyland an let me go on some rides an then he arranged to get us a tour of a movie lot. They is got all sorts of movies goin on, an people is runnin aroun shoutin “take one,” an “cut,” an “action,” an shit like that. One of the movies they was doin was a Western an we seen a feller get hissef thowed thru a plate glass winder about ten times—till he got it right.
   Anyway, we was jus standin there watchin this, when some guy walk up an says, “I beg your pardon, are you an actor?”
   I says, “Huh?” An Mister Tribble, he says, “No, we are chess players.”
   An the feller say, “Well that’s kind of a shame, because the big guy here, he looks ideal for a role in a movie I’m doing.” And then he turn to me an feel of my arm an say, “My, my, you are a big strong feller—are you sure you don’t act?”
   “I did once,” I says.
   “Really!” the feller says. “What in?”
   “King Lear.”
   “Marvelous, baby,” he says, “that’s just marvelous—do you have your SAG card?”
   “My what?”
   “Screen Actors Guild—oh, no matter,” he say. “Listen, baby, we can get that, no trouble. What I want to know is, where have they been hiding you? I mean, just look at you! A perfect big strong silent type—another John Wayne.”
   “He is no John Wayne,” Mister Tribble say sourly, “he is a world-class chess player.”
   “Well all the better,” the feller say, “a smart big, strong, silent type. Very unusual.”
   “Ain’t as smart as I look,” I says, tryin to be honest, but the feller say none of that matters anyhow, cause actors ain’t sposed to be smart or honest or nothin like that—just be able to get up there an say they lines.
   “My name’s Felder,” he says, “an I make movies. I want you to take a screen test.”
   “He has to play in a chess tournament tomorrow,” Mister Tribble say. “He has no time for acting or screen tests.”
   “Well, you could squeeze it in, couldn’t you? After all, it might be the break you’ve been looking for. Why don’t you come along, too, Tribble, we’ll give you a screen test as well.”
   “We’ll try,” Mister Tribble say. “Now come along, Forrest, we have a little more work to do.”
   “See you later, baby,” say Mister Felder, “don’t forget now.”
   An off we go.

22

   The nex mornin is when the chess tournament is bein helt out at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Me an Mister Tribble is there early an he has me signed up for matches all day.
   Basically, it ain’t no big deal. It took me about seven minutes to whup the first guy, who was a regional master an also a professor in some college, which made me secretly feel kind of good. I had beat a professor after all.
   Nex was a kid about seventeen, an I wiped him out in less than half a hour. He thowed a tantrum an then commenced to bawlin an cryin an his mama had to come drag him off.
   They was all sorts of people I played that day an the nex, but I beat em all pretty fast, which was a relief since when I played against Big Sam I had to keep settin there an not go to the bathroom or nothin, cause if I got up from the chessboard he would move the pieces aroun an try to cheat.
   Anyhow, by that time I had got my way into the finals an they was a day’s rest in between. I gone on back to the hotel with Mister Tribble an found a message to us from Mister Felder, the movie guy. It say, “Please call my office this afternoon an arrange for a screen test tomorrow morning,” an it give a telephone number to call.
   “Well, Forrest,” Mister Tribble say, “I don’t know bout this. What do you think?”
   “I dunno either,” I says, but to tell the truth, it soun sort of excitin, bein in the movies an all. Maybe I even get to meet Raquel Welch or somebody.
   “Oh, I don’t suppose it would hurt anything,” Mister Tribble say. “I guess I’ll call an set up an appointment.” So he call Mister Felder’s office an be findin out when an where for us to go an all of a sudden he cup his hand over the phone an say to me, “Forrest, can you swim?” An I say, “Yup,” an he say back into the phone, “Yes, he can.”
   After he done hung up, I axed why they want to know if I can swim, an Mister Tribble say he don’t know, but he recon we will find out when we get there.

   The movie lot we gone to is a different place than the other one, an we was met at the gate by a guard that took us to where the screen test is bein helt. Mister Felder is there arguin with a lady that actually look somethin like Raquel Welch, but when he seen me, he is all smiles.
   “Ah, Forrest,” he say, “terrific you came. Now what I want you to do is go thru that door to Makeup and Costuming, and then they will send you back out when they are finished.”
   So I gone on thru the door an there is a couple of ladies standin there an one of em say, “Okay, take off your clothes.” Here I go again, but I do as I am tole. When I get thru takin off my clothes, the other lady han me this big blob of rubber-lookin clothes with scales an shit all over it an funny-lookin webbed feet an hans. She say to put it on. It take the three of us to get me in the thing but after bout a hour we manage. Then they point me in the direction of Makeup an I is tole to set in a chair wile a lady an a feller commence to jam down this big rubber mask over my head an fit it to the costume an start paintin over the lines where it showed. When they is thru, they say for me to go back out to the movie set.
   I can hardly walk on account of the webbed feet an it is hard to get the door open with a webbed han, but finally I do an I suddenly find myself in a outdoor place with a big lake an all sorts of banana trees an tropical-lookin shit. Mister Felder is there an when he seen me, he jump back an say, “Terrific, baby! You is perfect for the part!”
   “What part is that?” I axed, an he say, “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I am doing a remake of The Creature from the Black Lagoon.” Even a idiot like me could guess what part he have in mind for me to play.
   Mister Felder motion for the lady he had been arguin with to come over. “Forrest,” he say, “I want you to meet Raquel Welch.”
   Well, you coudda knocked me over with a feather! There she were, all dressed up in a low-cut gown an all. “Please to meet you,” I says thru the mask, but Raquel Welch turn to Mister Felder lookin mad as a hornet.
   “What’d he say? Something about my tits, wasn’t it!”
   “No, baby, no,” say Mister Felder. “He just said he was glad to meet you. You can’t hear him too well because of that mask he’s got on.”
   I stuck out my webbed han to shake hans with her, but she jump back about a foot, an say, “Uggh! Let’s get this goddamn thing over with.”
   Anyhow, Mister Felder say the deal is this: Raquel Welch is to be flounderin in the water an then she faints, an then I am to come up from under her an pick her up an carry her outta the water. But when she revives, she looks up at me an is scared an commences to scream, “Put me down! Help! Rape!” an all that shit.
   But, Mister Felder say, I am not to put her down, cause some crooks is sposed to be chasin us; instead, I am to carry her off into the jungle.
   Well, we tried the scene, an the first time we done it, I thought it come off pretty well, an it is really excitin to actually be holdin Raquel Welch in my arms, even tho she be hollerin, “Put me down! Help, police!” an so on.
   But Mister Felder say that ain’t good enough, an for us to do it again. An that wadn’t good enough either, so we be doin that same scene bout ten or fifteen times. In between doin the scene, Raquel Welch is crabbin an bitchin an cussin at Mister Felder, but he just kep on sayin, “Beautiful, baby, beautiful!” an that sort of thing.
   Mysef, I’m startin to have a real problem tho. On account of I been in the creature suit nearly five hours now, an they ain’t no zipper or nothin to pee thru, an I’m bout to bust. But I don’t wanta say nothin bout that, cause this is a real movie an everthin, an I don’t want to make nobody mad.
   But I gotta do somethin, so’s I decide that the nex time I get in the water, I will jus pee in the suit, an it will run out my leg or somethin into the lagoon. Well, Mister Felder, he say, “Action!” an I go in the water an start to pee. Raquel Welch be flounderin aroun an then she faints, an I dive under an grap her an haul her onto shore.
   She wakes up an start to beatin on me an hollerin, “Help! Murder! Put me down!” an all, but then she suddenly stop hollerin an she say, “What is that smell?”
   Mister Felder holler, “Cut!” an he stand up an say, “What was that you said, baby? That ain’t in the script.”
   An Raquel Welch say, “Shit on the script! Somethin stinks aroun here!” Then she suddenly look at me an say, “Hey, you—whoever you are—did you take a leak?”
   I was so embarrassed, I did not know what to do. I just stood there for a secont, holdin her in my arms, an then I shake my head an say, “Uh uh.”
   It was the first lie I ever tole in my life.
   “Well somebody sure did,” she say, “cause I know pee when I smell it! An it wadn’t me! So it has to be you! How dare you pee on me, you big oaf!” Then she start beatin on me with her fists an hollerin to “Put me down!” and “Get away from me!” an all, but I jus figgered the scene is startin up again an so I begun to carry her back into the jungle.
   Mister Felder shout, “Action! ” The movie cameras begun to rollin once more, an Raquel Welch is beatin an clawin an yellin like she never done before. Mister Felder is back there hollerin, “That’s it, baby—terrific! Keep it up!” I coud see Mister Tribble back there too, settin in a chair, kinda shakin his head an tryin to look the other way.
   Well, when I get back in the jungle a little ways, I stopped an turned aroun to see if that’s where Mister Felder is fixin to yell “Cut,” like he had before, but he was jumpin aroun like a wild man, motionin to keep on goin, an shoutin, “Perfect, baby! That’s what I want! Carry her off into the jungle!”
   Raquel Welch is still scratchin an flailin at me an screamin, “Get away from me you vulgar animal!” an such as that, but I kep on goin like I’m tole.
   All of a sudden she screech, “Oh my god! My dress!”
   I ain’t noticed it till now, but when I look down, damn if her dress ain’t caught on some bush back there an done totally unravel itself, Raquel Welch is butt neckid in my arms!
   I stopped an said, “Uh oh,” an started to turn aroun to carry her back, but she begin shriekin, “No, no! You idiot! I can’t go back there like this!”
   I axed what she wanted me to do, an she say we gotta find someplace to hide till she gets things figgered out. So I keep on goin deeper into the jungle when all of a sudden out of noplace come a big object thru the trees, swingin towards us on a vine. The object swung past us once an I could tell it was a ape of some sort, an then it swung back again an dropped off the vine at our feet. I almost fainted dead away. It was ole Sue, hissef!

   Raquel Welch begun to bawlin an hollerin again an Sue has grapped me aroun the legs an is huggin me. I don’t know how he recognized me in my creature suit, cept I guess he smelt me or somethin. Anyhow, Raquel Welch, she finally say, “Do you know this fucking baboon?”
   “He ain’t no baboon,” I says, “he’s a orangutang. Name’s Sue.”
   She look at me kinda funny an say, “Well if it’s a he, then how come its name is Sue?”
   “That is a long story,” I say.
   Anyhow, Raquel Welch is tryin to cover hersef up with her hans, but ole Sue, he knows what to do. He grapped holt of a couple of big leaves off one of them banana trees an han them up to her an she partly covered hersef up.
   What I find out later is that we have gone across our jungle location onto another set where they is filmin a Tarzan movie, an Sue is being used as a extra. Not long after I got rescued from the pygmies in New Guinea, white hunters come along an captured ole Sue an shipped his ass to some animal trainer in Los Angeles. They been usin him in movies ever since.
   Anyway, we ain’t got time to jack aroun now, on account of Raquel Welch is screechin an bitchin again, say, “You gotta take me someplace where I can get me some clothes!” Well, I don’t know where you can find no clothes in the jungle, even if it is a movie set, so we jus keep movin along, hopin somethin will happen.
   It does. We suddenly come to a big fence, an I figger there probly be someplace on the other side of it to get her some clothes. Sue finds a loose board in the fence an lifts it up so’s we can get thru, but as soon as I step on the other side, ain’t nothin to step on, an me an Raquel go tumblin head over heels down the side of this hill. We finally rolled all the way to the bottom an when I look aroun, damn if we ain’t landed right on the side of a big ole road.
   “Oh my God!” Raquel Welch yell. “We’re on the Santa Monica Freeway!”
   I look up, an here come ole Sue, lopin down the hillside. He finally get down to us, an the three of us be standin there. Raquel Welch is movin the banana leaves up an down, tryin to cover hersef up.
   “What we gonna do now?” I axed. Cars are wizzin by, an even tho we must of been a odd-lookin sight, ain’t nobody even payin us the slightest attention.
   “You gotta take me someplace!” she hollers. “I got to get some clothes on!”
   “Where?” I says.
   “Anywhere!” she screams, an so we started off down the Santa Monica Freeway.
   After a wile, up in the distance, we seen a big white sign up in some hills say “HOLLYWOOD,” an Raquel Welch say, “We got to get off this damn freeway and get to Rodeo Drive, where I can buy me some clothes.” She is keepin pretty busy tryin to cover hersef up—ever time a car come towards us, she put the banana leaves in front, an when a car come up from behin, she move em back there to cover her ass. In mixed traffic, it is quite a spectacular sight—look like one of them fan dancers or somethin.
   So we got off the freeway an went across a big field. “Has that fuckin monkey got to keep followin us?” Raquel Welch say. “We look rediculous enough as it is!” I ain’t sayin nothin, but I look back, an ole Sue, he got a pained look on his face. He ain’t never met Raquel Welch before, neither, an I think his feelins is hurt.
   Anyhow, we kep goin along an they still ain’t nobody payin us much mind. Finally we come to a big ole busy street an Raquel Welch say, “Goodgodamighty—this is Sunset Boulevard! How am I gonna explain goin across Sunset Boulevard butt neckid in broad daylight!” In this, I tend to see her point, an I am sort of glad I got on the creature suit so’s nobody will recognize me—even if I am with Raquel Welch.
   We come to a traffic light an when it turn green, the three of us walked on across the street, Raquel Welch doin her fan dance to beat the band an smilin at people in cars an stuff like she was on stage. “I am totally humiliated!” she hisses at me under her breath. “I am violated! Just wait till we get outta this. I am gonna have your big ass, you goddamn idiot!”
   Some of the people waitin in their cars at the traffic light commence to honkin they horns and wavin, on account of they must of recognized Raquel Welch, an when we get across the street, a few cars turn our way an start to followin after us. By the time we get to Wilshire Boulevard we have attracted quite a sizable crowd; people come out of they houses an stores an all to follow us—look like the Pied Piper or somethin—an Raquel Welch’s face is red as a beet.
   “You’ll never work in this town again!” she say to me, flashin a smile to the crowd, but her teeth is clenched tight.
   We gone on a bit further, an then she say, “Ah—finally—here is Rodeo Drive.” I look over at a corner an, sure enough, there is a woman’s clothing store. I tap her on the shoulder an point at it, but Raquel Welch say, “Uggh—that’s Popagallo. Nobody would be caught dead these days wearing a Popagallo dress.”
   So we walked some more an then she say, “There—Giani’s—they got some nice things in there,” an so we go inside.
   They is a sales feller at the door with a little moustache an a white suit with a handkerchief stickin out of the coat pocket, an he is eyein us pretty carefully as we come thru the door.
   “May I help you, madam?” he axed.
   “I want to buy a dress,” Raquel Welch say.
   “What did you have in mind?” say the feller.
   “Anything, you fool—can’t you see what’s going on!”
   Well, the sales feller point to a couple of racks of dresses an say there might be somethin in there her size, so Raquel Welch go over an begin to look thru the dresses.
   “An is there somethin I can do for you gentlemen?” the feller says to me an Sue.
   “We is just with her,” I say. I look back, an the crowd is all gathered outside, noses pressed to the winder.
   Raquel Welch took about eight or nine dresses into the back an tried them on. After a wile she come out an say, “What do you think about this one?” It is a sort of brown-lookin dress with a bunch of belts an loops all over it an a low neckline.
   “Oh, I’m not so sure, dear,” say the salesman, “somehow it—it just isn’t you.” So she go back an try on another one an the salesman say, “Oh, wonderful! You look absolutely precious.”
   “I’ll take it,” say Raquel Welch, an the salesman say, “Fine—how would you like to pay for it?”
   “What do you mean?” she axed.
   “Well, cash, check, credit card?” he say.
   “Look you bozo—can’t you see I don’t have anything like that with me? Where the hell do you think I’d put it?”
   “Please, madam—don’t let’s be vulgar,” the salesman say.
   “I am Raquel Welch,” she tell the man. “I will send somebody around here to pay you later.”
   “I am terribly sorry, lady,” he say, “but we don’t do business that way.”
   “But I’m Raquel Welch! ” she shout. “Don’t you recognize me?”
   “Listen lady,” the man say, “half the people that come in here say they are Raquel Welch or Farrah Fawcett or Sophia Loren or somebody. You got any ID?”
   “ID!” she shout. “Where do you think I would keep ID?”
   “No ID, no credit card, no money—no dress,” say the salesman.
   “I’ll prove who the hell I am,” Raquel Welch say, an all of a sudden she pull down the top of the dress. “Who else is got tits like these in this one-horse town!” she screech. Outside, the crowd all be beatin on the winders an hollerin an cheerin. But the salesman, he punched a little button an some big guy what was the security detective come over an he say, “Okay, your asses is all under arrest. Come along quietly an there won’t be no trouble.”

23

   So here I am, thowed in jail again.
   After the security feller corralled us at Giani’s, two carloads of cops come screamin up an this one cop come up to the salesman an say, “Well, what we got here?”
   “This one says she’s Raquel Welch,” the salesman say. “Come in here wearin a bunch of banana leaves an wouldn’t pay for the dress. I don’t know bout these other two—but they look pretty suspicious to me.”
   “I am Raquel Welch!” she shout.
   “Sure, lady,” the cop say. “An I am Clint Eastwood. Why don’t you go along with these two nice fellers here.” He point to a couple of other cops.
   “Now,” says the head cop, an he be lookin at me an Sue, “what’s your story?”
   “We was in a pitcher,” I says.
   “That why you’re wearin that creature suit?” he axe.
   “Yup,” I says.
   “An what bout him?” he say, pointin to Sue. “That’s a pretty realistic costume, if I say so myself.”
   “Ain’t no costume,” I says. “He’s a purebread orangutang.”
   “Is that so?” the cop say. “Well I’ll tell you what. We got a feller down to the station who makes pitchers, too, an he would love to get a couple of shots of you clowns. So you jus come along too—an don’t make no sudden moves.”
   Anyhow, Mister Tribble has got to come down an bail me out again. An Mister Felder showed up with a whole platoon of lawyers to git out Raquel Welch, who by this time is hysterical.
   “You jus wait!” she shriek back at me as they turnin her loose. “When I git finished, you won’t be able to find a job as a spear carrier in a nightmare!”
   In this, she is probly correct. It look like my movie career is over.
   “That’s life, baby—but I’ll call you for lunch sometime,” Mister Felder says to me as he is leavin. “We’ll send somebody by later to pick up the creature suit.”
   “C’mon, Forrest,” say Mister Tribble. “You and I have got other fish to fry.”

   Back at the hotel, Mister Tribble an me an Sue is settin in our room havin a conference.
   “It is going to pose a problem, with Sue here,” Mister Tribble says. “I mean, look how we had to sneak him up the stairs and everthin. It is very difficult to travel with an orangutan, we have to face that.”
   I tole him how I felt bout Sue, bout how he saved my ass more than once in the jungle an all.
   “Well, I think I understand your feelings,” he says. “And I’m willing to give it a try. But he’s going to have to behave himself, or we’ll be in trouble for sure.”
   “He will,” I say, an ole Sue be noddin an grinnin like a ape.
   Anyhow, nex day is the big chess match between me an the International Grand Master Ivan Petrokivitch, also known as Honest Ivan. Mister Tribble have taken me to a clothes store an rented me a tuxedo on account of this is to be a big fashionable deal, an a lot of muckity-mucks will be on han. Furthermore, the winner will get ten thousan dollars, an my haf of that ought to be enough to get me started in the srimp bidness, so I cannot afford to make no mistakes.
   Well, we get to the hall where the chess game is to take place an there is bout a thousan people millin aroun an already settin at the table is Honest Ivan, glarin at me like he’s Muhammad Ali or somebody.
   Honest Ivan is a big ole Russian feller with a high forehead, jus like the Frankenstein monster, an long black curly hair such as you might see on a violin player. When I go up an set down, he grunt somethin at me an then another feller say, “Let the match begin,” an that was it.
   Honest Ivan is got the white team an he get to make the first move, startin with somethin call The Ponziani Opening.
   I move nex, using The Reti Opening, an everthin is goin pretty smooth. Each of us make a couple of more moves, then Honest Ivan try somethin known as The Falkbeer Gambit, movin his knight aroun to see if he can take my rook.
   But I seed that comin, an set up somethin called The Noah’s Ark Trap, an got his knight instead. Honest Ivan ain’t lookin none too happy but he seem to take it in stride an employed The Tarrasch Threat to menace my bishop.
   I ain’t havin none of that, tho, an I thowed up The Queen’s Indian Defense an that force him to use The Schevenigen Variation, which lead me to utilize The Benoni Counter.
   Honest Ivan appear to be somewhat frustrated, an was twistin his fingers an bitin on his lower lip, an then he done tried a desperation move—The Fried Liver Attack—to which I applied Alekhine’s Defense an stopped his ass cold.
   It look for a wile like it gonna be a stalemate, but Honest Ivan, he went an applied The Hoffman Maneuver an broke out! I look over at Mister Tribble, an he sort of smile at me, an he move his lips an mouth the word “Now,” an I knowed what he mean.
   You see, they was a couple of tricks Big Sam taught me in the jungle that was not in the book an now was the time to use them—namely, The Cookin Pot Variation of The Coconut Gambit, in which I use my queen as bait an sucker that bastid into riskin his knight to take her.
   Unfortunately, it didn’t work. Honest Ivan must of seen that comin an he snapped up my queen an now my ass is in trouble! Nex I pull somethin called The Grass Hut Ploy, in which I stick my last rook out on a limb to fool him, but he wadn’t fooled. Took my rook an my other bishop too, an was ready to finish me off with The Petroff Check, when I pulled out all the stops an set up The Pygmie Threat.
   Now the Pygmie Threat was one of Big Sam’s specialties, an he had taught it to me real good. It depends a lot on suprise an usin several other pieces as bait, but if a feller falls victim to The Pygmie Threat, he might as well hang up his jockstrap an go on home. I was hopin an prayin it woud work, cause if it didn’t, I ain’t got no more bright ideas an I’m just about done for already.
   Well, Honest Ivan, he grunt a couple of times an pick up his knight to move it to square eight, which meant that he would be suckered in by The Pygmie Threat an in two more moves I would have him in check an he would be powerless to do anythin about it!
   But Honest Ivan must of smelt somethin fishy, cause he moved that piece from square five to square eight an back again nine or ten times, never takin his han off it, which would have meant the move was final.
   The crowd was so quiet you coulda heard a pin drop, an I am so nervous an excited I am bout to bust. I look over an Mister Tribble is rollin his eyes up in the air like he’s prayin an a feller what come with Honest Ivan is scowlin an lookin sour. Honest Ivan move the piece back to square eight two or three more times, but always he put it back on square five. Finally, it look like he gonna do somethin else, but then he lif up the piece one more time an have it hoverin above square eight an I be holdin my breath an the room is quiet as a tomb. Honest Ivan still be hoverin with the piece an my heart is beatin like a drum, an all of a sudden he look straight at me—an I don’t know what happened, I guess I was so excited an all—but suddenly I cut a humongus baked-bean fart that sound like somebody is rippin a bedsheet in haf!
   Honest Ivan get a look of suprise on his face, an then he suddenly drop his chess piece an thowed up his hans an say, “Uggh!” an start fannin the air an coughin an holdin his nose. Folks standin aroun us begun to move back an was mumblin an takin out they handkerchiefs an all, an I am so red in the face I look like a tomato.
   But when it all settle down again, I look at the chessboard an damn if Honest Ivan ain’t lef his piece right on square eight. So I reached out an snap it up with my knight, an then I grapped two of his pawns an his queen an finally his king—checkmate! I done won the match an the five thousan dollars! The Pygmie Threat done come thru again.
   All the wile, Honest Ivan be makin loud gestures an protestin an all an him an the feller that come with him immediately file a formal complaint against me.
   The guy in charge of the tournament be thumbin thru his rule book till he come to where it say, “No player shall knowingly engage in conduct that is distractive to another player while a game is in progress.”
   Mister Tribble step up an say, “Well, I don’t think you can prove that my man did what he did knowingly. It was a sort of involuntary thing.”
   Then the tournament director thumb thru his book some more, an come to where it say, “No player shall behave in a manner that is rude or offensive to his opponent.”
   “Listen,” Mister Tribble say, “haven’t you ever had the need to break wind? Forrest didn’t mean anything by it. He’s been sitting there a long time.”
   “I don’t know,” the tournament director say, “on the face of it, I think I’m going to have to disqualify him.”
   “Well can’t you give him another chance at least?”
   Mister Tribble axed. The tournament director scratched his chin for a minute. “Well, perhaps,” he say, “but he is gonna have to contain hissef because we cannot tolerate this sort of thing here, you know?”
   An so it was beginnin to look like I might be allowed to finish the game, but all of a sudden they is a big commotion at one end of the room, an ladies are screaming an shrieking an all an then I look up an here come ole Sue, swingin towards me on a chandelier.
   Jus as the chandelier got overhead Sue let go an dropped right on top of the chessboard, scatterin all the pieces in a dozen directions. Honest Ivan fell over backwards across a chair an on the way down ripped haf the dress off a fat lady that looked like a advertisement for a jewelry store. She commenced to flailin an hollerin an smacked the tournament director in the nose an Sue was jumpin up an down an chatterin an everbody is in a panic, stompin an stumblin an shoutin to call the police.
   Mister Tribble grapped me by the arm an say, “Let’s get out of here, Forrest—you have already seen enough of the police in this town.”
   This I coud not deny.

   Well, we get on back to the hotel, an Mister Tribble say we got to have another conference.
   “Forrest,” he say, “I just do not believe this is going to work out anymore. You can play chess like a dream, but things have gotten too complicated otherwise. All that stuff that went on this afternoon was, well, to put it mildly, it was bizarre.”
   I am noddin an ole Sue is lookin pretty sorrowful too.
   “So, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. You’re a good boy, Forrest, and I can’t leave you stranded out here in California, so I am going to arrange for you and Sue to get back to Alabama or wherever it is you came from. I know you need a little grubstake to start your shrimp business, and your share of the winnings, after I deduct expenses, comes to a little under five thousand dollars.”
   Mister Tribble hand me a envelope an when I look inside it, there is a bunch of hundrit dollar bills. “I wish you all the best in your venture,” he say. Mister Tribble phone for a taxicab an got us to the railroad station. He has also arranged for Sue to ride in the baggage car in a crate, and says I can go back there an visit with him an take him food an water when I want. They brung out the crate an Sue got on inside it an they took him off.
   “Well, good luck, Forrest,” Mister Tribble say, an he shake my han. “Here’s my card—so stay in touch and let me know how it’s going, okay?”
   I took the card an shook his han again an was sorry to be leavin cause Mister Tribble was a very nice man, an I had let him down. I was settin in my seat on the train, lookin out the winder, an Mister Tribble was still standin on the platform. Jus as the train pulled out, he raised up his han at me an waved goodbye.
   So off I went again, an for a long time that night my head was full of dreams—of going back home again, of my mama, of po ole Bubba an of the srimp bidness an, of course, of Jenny Curran too. More than anythin in the world, I wished I were not such a loony tune.

24

   Well, finally, i done come home again.
   The train got into the Mobile station bout three o’clock in the mornin an they took off ole Sue in his crate an lef us standin on the platform. Ain’t nobody else aroun cept some feller sweepin the floor an a guy snoozin on a bench in the depot, so Sue an me walked on downtown an finally foun a place to sleep in a abandoned buildin.
   Nex mornin, I got Sue some bananas down by the wharf an found a little lunch counter where I bought a great big breakfast with grits an eggs an bacon an pancakes an all, an then I figgered I had to do somethin to get us squared away, so I begun to walk out to where the Little Sisters of the Poor home was located. On the way, we passed by where our ole house used to be, an it wadn’t nothin lef but a field of weeds an some burnt up wood. It was a very strange feelin, seein that, an so we kep on goin.
   When I got to the po house, I tole Sue to wait in the yard so as not to startle them sisters none, an I went in an axed about my mama.
   The head sister, she was real nice, an she say she don’t know where Mama is, cept she went off with the protestant, but that I might try axin aroun in the park cause mama use to go an set there in the afternoons with some other ladies. So I got Sue an we gone on over there.
   They was some ladies settin on the benches an I went up an tole one of them who I was, an she looked at ole Sue, an say, “I reckon I might of guess it.”
   But then she say she has heard that Mama was workin as a pants presser in a dry cleanin store on the other side of town, an so me an Sue went over there an sho enough, there is po ole Mama, sweatin over a pair of pants in the laundry.
   When she seen me, Mama drop everthin an thowed hersef into my arms. She is cryin an twistin her hans an snifflin just like I remembered. Good ole Mama.
   “Oh, Forrest,” she say. “You have come home at last. There wadn’t a day gone by I didn’t think bout you, an I done cried mysef to sleep ever night since you been gone.” That didn’t suprise me none tho, an I axed her bout the protestant.
   “That low-down polecat,” Mama say. “I should of knowed better than to run off with a protestant. Wadn’t a month went by before he chucked me for a sixteen-year-ole girl—an him bein nearly sixty. Let me tell you, Forrest, protestants ain’t got no morals.”
   Just then a loud voice come from inside the dry cleanin stow, say, “Gladys, have you done lef the steam press on somebody’s pants?”
   “Oh my God!” Mama shout, an run back inside. All of a sudden a big column of black smoke blowed out thru the winder an people inside is bawlin an hollerin an cussin an nex thing I knowed, Mama is bein hauled out of the stow by a big old ugly bald-headed guy that is shoutin an manhandlin her.
   “Git out! Git out!” he holler. “This is the last straw! You done burnt up your last pair of pants!”
   Mama be cryin an weepin an I stepped up to the feller an say, “I think you better be takin your hans off my mama.”
   “Who the hell is you?” he axed.
   “Forrest Gump,” I says back, an he say, “Well you git your ass outta here too, an take your mama with you, cause she don’t work here no more!”
   “You best not be talkin that way aroun my mama,” I says, an he say back, “Yeah? What you gonna do about it?”
   So I showed him.
   First, I grapped him an picked him up in the air. Then I carried him into where they was washin all these clothes in a big ole oversize laundry machine they use for quilts and rugs, an I open the top an stuff him in an close the lid shut an turned the dial to “Spin.” Last I seen of him, his ass were headed for the “Rinse” cycle.
   Mama is bawlin an dawbin at her eyes with a handkerchief an say, “Oh, Forrest, now I done lost my job!”
   “Don’t worry none, Mama,” I tole her, “everthin gonna be okay, cause I have got a plan.”
   “How you gonna have a plan, Forrest?” she say. “You is a idiot. How is a po idiot gonna have a plan?”
   “Jus wait an see,” I says. Anyhow, I am glad to have got off on the right foot my first day home.

   We got outta there, an started walkin towards the roomin house where Mama stayin. I had done introduced her to Sue an she say she was pleased that at least I have got some kinda friend—even if he is a ape.
   Anyhow, Mama an me ate supper at the roomin house an she got Sue a orange from the kitchen, an afterwards, me an Sue went down to the bus station an got the bus to Bayou La Batre, where Bubba’s folks lived. Sure as rain, last thing I saw of Mama she was standin on the porch of the roomin house wipin her eyes an sobbin as we lef. But I had give her haf the five thousan dollars to sort of tide her over an pay her rent an all till I could get mysef established, so I didn’t feel so bad.
   Anyhow, when the bus get to Bayou La Batre we didn’t have no trouble findin Bubba’s place. It’s about eight o’clock at night an I knocked on the door an after a wile an ole feller appears an axed what I want. I tole him who I was an that I knowed Bubba from playin football an from the Army, an he got kinda nervous but he invited me inside. I had tole ole Sue to stay out in the yard an kinda keep outta sight since they probly hasn’t seen nothin look like him down here.
   Anyhow, it was Bubba’s daddy, an he got me a glass of iced tea an started axin me a lot of questions. Wanted to know bout Bubba, bout how he got kilt an all, an I tole him the best I could.
   Finally, he say, “There’s somethin I been wonderin all these years, Forrest—what do you think Bubba died for?”
   “Cause he got shot,” I says, but he say, “No, that ain’t what I mean. What I mean is, why? Why was we over there?”
   I thought for a minute, an say, “Well, we was tryin to do the right thing, I guess. We was jus doin what we was tole.”
   An he say, “Well, do you think it was worth it? What we did? All them boys gettin kilt that way?”
   An I says, “Look, I am jus a idiot, see. But if you want my real opinion, I think it was a bunch of shit.”
   Bubba’s daddy nod his head. “That’s what I figgered,” he say.
   Anyhow, I tole him why I had come there. Tole him bout me an Bubba’s plan to open up a little srimp bidness, an how I had met the ole gook when I was in the hospital an he showed me how to grow srimp, an he was gettin real interested an axin a lot of questions, when all of a sudden they is a tremendous squawkin set up out in the yard.
   “Somethin’s after my chickens!” Bubba’s daddy shout, an he went an got a gun from behin the door an go out on the porch.
   “They is somethin I got to tell you,” I says, an I tole him bout Sue bein there, cept we don’t see hide nor hair of him.
   Bubba’s daddy go back in the house an get a flashlight an shine it aroun in the yard. He shine it under a big tree an down at the bottom is a goat—big ole billy goat, standin there pawin the groun. He shine it up in the tree an there is po Sue, settin on a limb, scared haf to death.
   “That goat’ll do it ever time,” say Bubba’s daddy. “Git on away from there!” he shout, an he thow a stick at the goat. After the goat was gone, Sue come down from the tree an we let him inside the house.
   “What is that thing?” Bubba’s daddy axed.
   “He is a orangutang,” I says.
   “Looks kinda like a gorilla, don’t he?”
   “A little bit,” I says, “but he ain’t.”
   Anyway, Bubba’s daddy say we can sleep there that night, an in the mornin, he will go aroun with us an see if we can find some place to start the srimp bidness. They was a nice breeze blowin off the bayou an you coud hear frawgs an crickets an even the soun of a fish jumpin ever once in a wile. It was a nice, peaceful place, an I made up my mind then an there that I was not gonna get into no trouble here.

   Nex mornin brite an early we get up an Bubba’s daddy done fixed a big breakfast with homemade sausage an fresh yard eggs an biscuits an molasses, an then he take me an Sue in a little boat an pole us down the Bayou. It is calm an they is a bit of mist on the water. Ever once in a wile a big ole bird would take off outta the marsh.
   “Now,” say Bubba’s daddy, “here is where the salt tide comes in,” an he point to a slew that runs up in the marsh. “There’s some pretty big ponds up in there, an if I was gonna do what you plannin to do, that’s where I’d do it.”
   He pole us up into the slew. “Now you see there,” he say, “that is a little piece of high groun an you can jus see the roof of a little shack in there.
   “It used to be lived in by ole Tom LeFarge, but he been dead four or five years now. Ain’t nobody own it. You wanted, you could fix it up a little an stay there. Last time I looked, he had a couple of ole rowboats pulled up on the bank. Probly ain’t worth a damn, but you caulk em up, they’d probly float.”
   He pole us in further, an say, “Ole Tom used to have some duckboards runnin thru the marsh down to the ponds. Used to fish an shoot ducks in there. You could probly fix em up. It’d be a way of gettin aroun in there.”
   Well, let me tell you, it looked ideal. Bubba’s daddy say they get seed srimp up in them slews an bayous all the time, an it wouldn’t be no trouble to net a bunch of em to start off the bidness with. Another thing he say is that in his experience, a srimp will eat cottonseed meal, which is good on account of it is cheap.
   The main thing we got to do is block off them ponds with mesh nets an get the little cabin fixed up to live in an get some supplies like peanut butter an jelly an bread an all that kind of shit. Then we be ready to start growin our srimp.
   So we got started that very day. Bubba’s daddy took me back to the house an we gone into town an begun buyin supplies. He say we can use his boat till we get ours fixed up, an that night me an Sue stayed in the little fishin shack for the first time. It rained some an the roof leaked like crazy, but I didn’t mind. Nex mornin I jus went out an fixed it up.
   It took almost a month to get things goin—makin the shack nice an fixin up the rowboats an the duckboards in the marsh an layin the mesh nets aroun one of them ponds. Finally the day come when we is ready to put in some srimp. I have bought a srimp net an me an Sue went on out in the rowboat an dragged it aroun for most of the day. By that night, we had probly fifty pounds of srimp in the bait well an we rowed up an dumped em into the pond. They be crackin an swimmin aroun an dancin on top of the water. My, my, it was a lovely site.
   Nex mornin we got us five hundrit pounds of cottonseed meal an thowed a hundrit pounds of it in the pond for the srimp to eat an the nex afternoon we set about nettin-in another pond. We done that all summer an all fall an all winter an all spring an by that time we has got four ponds operatin an everthin is lookin rosy. At night I would set out on the porch of the shack an play my harmonica an on Saturday night I would go into town an buy a six-pack of beer an me an Sue would get drunk. I finally feel like I belong someplace, an am doin a honest day’s work, an I figger that when we get the first srimp harvested an sold, maybe then it will be all right to try to find Jenny again, an see if she is still mad at me.

25

   It was a very nice day in June when we figgered it was time to start our first srimp harvest. Me an Sue got up with the sun an went down to the pond an dragged a net acrost it till it got stuck on somethin. Sue tried to pull it loose first, then I tried, then we tried together till we finally figgered out the net wadn’t stuck—it was jus so full of srimp we couldn’t move it!
   By that evenin we had pulled in about three hundrit pouns of srimp, an we spent the night sortin em out in various sizes. Nex mornin we put the srimp in baskets an took em down to our little rowboat. They weighed so much we damn near tumped over on the way up to Bayou La Batre.
   They was a seafood packin house there an Sue an me hauled the srimp from the dock to the weighin room. After everthin is toted up, we got ourselfs a check for eight hundrit, sixty-five dollars! It is about the first honest money I ever made since I played harmonica for The Cracked Eggs.
   Ever day for nearly two weeks Sue an me harvested srimp an brought em in to the packin house. When it was finally over, we had made a total of nine thousand, seven hundrit dollars an twenty-six cents. The srimp bidness was a success!
   Well, let me tell you—it were a happy occasion. We took up a bushel basket of srimp to Bubba’s daddy an he was real happy an say he is proud of us an that he wished Bubba were there too. Then me an Sue caught the bus up to Mobile to celebrate. First thing I done was gone to see my mama at the roomin house, an when I tole her about the money an all, sure enough, she be cloudin up again. “Oh, Forrest,” she say, “I am so proud of you—doin so good an all for bein retarded.”
   Anyhow, I tole Mama about my plan, which was that nex year we was gonna have three times as many srimp ponds, an that we needed somebody to watch over the money an look after our expenses an all, an I axed if she would do that.
   “You mean I gotta move all the way down to Bayou La Batre?” Mama say. “Ain’t nothin goin on down there. What am I gonna do with mysef?”
   “Count money,” I says.
   After that, me an Sue went downtown an got ourselfs a big meal. I gone down to the docks an bought Sue a big bunch of bananas, an then went an got mysef the biggest steak dinner I could find, with mashed potatoes an green peas an everthin. Then I decided to go drink me a beer someplace an jus as I am walkin by this dark ole saloon near the waterfront, I hear all this loud cussin an shoutin an even after all these years, I knowed that voice. I stuck my head in the door, an sure enough, it were ole Curtis from the University!
   Curtis were very happy to see me, callin me a asshole an a cocksucker an a motherfucker an everthin else nice he could think of. As it turns out, Curtis had gone on to play pro football with the Washington Redskins after he lef the University, an then he done got put on waivers after bitin the team owner’s wife on the ass at a party. He played for a couple of other teams for a few years, but after that he got hissef a job on the docks as a longshoreman which, he say, was suitable for the amount of education he got at the University.
   Anyway, Curtis bought me a couple of beers an we talked about ole times. The Snake, he say, had played quarterback for the Green Bay Packers till he got caught drinkin a entire quart of Polish vodka durin halftime in the Minnesota Vikings game. Then Snake went an played for the New Yawk Giants till he called a Statue-of-Liberty play in the third quarter of the Rams game. The Giants’ coach say ain’t nobody used a Statue-of-Liberty play in pro ball since nineteen hundrit thirty-one, an that Snake ain’t got no bidness callin one now. But actually, Curtis say, it wadn’t no Statue-of-Liberty play at all. The truth, accordin to Curtis, was that Snake was so spaced out on dope that when he faded back for a pass he done completely forgot to thow the ball, an the lef end jus happen to see what is goin on, an run aroun behin him an take the ball away. Anyhow, Curtis say the Snake is now assistant coach for a tinymight team someplace in Georgia.
   After a couple of beers, I got a idea, an tole Curtis about it.
   “How’d you like to come work for me?” I axed.
   Curtis be cussin an hollerin but after a minute or two I figger out he is tryin to axe me what I want him to do, so I tole him about the srimp bidness an that we was gonna expand our operation. He cuss an holler some more, but the gist of what he is sayin is “yes.”

   So all thru that summer an fall an the next spring we be workin hard, me an Sue an Mama an Curtis—an I even had a job for Bubba’s daddy. That year we made nearly thirty thousan dollars an are gettin bigger all the time. Things couldn’t of been goin better—Mama ain’t bawlin hardly at all, an one day we even seen Curtis smile once—altho he stopped an started cussin again soon as he saw us watchin. For me, tho, it ain’t quite as happy as it might be, cause I am thinkin a lot about Jenny an what has become of her.
   One day, I jus decided to do somethin bout it. It was a Sunday, an I got dressed up an caught the bus up to Mobile an went over to Jenny’s mama’s house. She was settin inside, watchin tv, when I knocked on the door.
   When I tole her who I was, she say, “Forrest Gump! I jus can’t believe it. C’mon in!”
   Well, we set there a wile an she axed bout Mama an what I’d been doin an everthin, an finally I axed about Jenny.
   “Oh, I really don’t hear from her much these days,” Mrs. Curran say. “I think they livin someplace in North Carolina.”
   “She got a roomate or somethin?” I axed.
   “Oh, didn’t you know, Forrest?” she say. “Jenny got married.”
   “Married?” I say.
   “It was a couple of years ago. She’d been livin in Indiana. Then she went to Washington an nex thing I knew, I got a postcard sayin she was married, an they was movin to North Carolina or someplace. You want me to tell her anythin if I hear from her?”
   “No’m,” I says, “not really. Maybe jus tell her I wish her good luck an all.”
   “I sure will,” Mrs. Curran say, “an I’m so glad you came by.”

   I dunno, I reckon I ought to of been ready for that news, but I wadn’t.
   I could feel my heart poundin, an my hans got cold an damp an all I coud think of was goin someplace an curlin up into a ball the way I had that time after Bubba got kilt, an so that’s what I did. I foun some shrubs in back of somebody’s yard an I crawled under there an jus got mysef into a ball. I think I even commenced to suck my thumb, which I ain’t done in a long wile since my mama always said it was a sure sign that somebody’s a idiot, unless they are a baby. Anyhow, I don’t know how long I stayed there. It was most of a day an a haf I guess.
   I didn’t feel no blame for Jenny, she done what she had to. After all, I am a idiot, an wile a lot of people say they is married to idiots, they couldn’t never imagine what would be in store if they ever married a real one. Mostly, I guess, I am jus feelin sorry for mysef, because somehow I had actually got to where I believed that Jenny an me would be together someday. An so when I learnt from her mama that she is married, it was like a part of me has died an will never be again, for gettin married is not like runnin away. Gettin married is a very serious deal. Sometime durin the night I cried, but it did not hep much.
   It was later that afternoon when I crawled out of the shrubs an gone on back to Bayou La Batre. I didn’t tell nobody what had happened, cause I figgered it wouldn’t of done no good. They was some work I needed to do aroun the ponds, mendin nets an such, an I went on out by mysef an done it. By the time I get finished it is dark, an I done made a decision—I am gonna thow mysef into the srimp bidness an work my ass off. It is all I can do.

   An so I did.
   That year we made seventy-five thousan dollars before expenses an the bidness is gettin so big I got to hire more people to hep me run it. One person I get is ole Snake, the quarterback from the University. He is not too happy with his present job with the tinymight football team an so I put him to work with Curtis in charge of dredgin an spillway duties. Then I find out that Coach Fellers from the highschool is done retired an so I give him a job, along with his two goons who has also retired, workin on boats an docks.
   Pretty soon the newspapers get wind of what is goin on an send a reporter down to interview me for a sort of “local boy makes good” story. It appears the nex Sunday, with a photo of me an Mama an Sue, an the headline say, “Certifiable Idiot Finds Future in Novel Marine Experiment.”
   Anyhow, not too long after that, Mama say to me that we need to get somebody to hep her with the bookkeepin part of the bidness an give some kind of advice on financial things on account of we is makin so much money. I done thought bout it a wile, an then I decided to get in touch with Mister Tribble, cause he had made a bunch of money in bidness before he retired. He was delighted I had called, he say, an will be on the nex plane down.
   A week after he gets here, Mister Tribble say we got to set down an talk.
   “Forrest,” he say, “what you have done here is nothing short of remarkable, but you are at a point where you need to begin some serious financial planning.”
   I axed him what bout, an he say this: “Investments! Diversification! Look, as I see it, this next fiscal year you are going to have profits at about a hundred and ninety thousand dollars. The following year it will bear near a quarter of a million. With such profits you must reinvest them or the IRS will tax you into oblivion. Reinvestment is the very heart of American business!”
   An so that’s what we did.
   Mister Tribble took charge of all that, an we formed a couple of corporations. One was “Gump’s Shellfish Company.” Another was called “Sue’s Stuffed Crabs, Inc.,” an another was “Mama’s Crawfish Йtouffйe, Ltd.”
   Well, the quarter of a million become haf a million an the year followin that, a million, an so on, till after four more years we done become a five million dollar a year bidness. We got nearly three hundred employees now, includin The Turd an The Vegetable, whose rasslin days were over, an we got them loadin crates at the warehouse. We tried like hell to find po Dan, but he done vanished without a trace. We did find ole Mike, the rasslin promoter, an put him in charge of public relations an advertisin. At Mister Tribble’s suggestion, Mike done even hired Raquel Welch to do some television ads for us—they dressed her up to look like a crab, an she dance aroun an say, “You ain’t never had crabs till you try Sue’s!”
   Anyhow, things has gotten real big-time. We got a fleet of refrigerator trucks an a fleet of srimp, oyster an fishin boats. We got our own packin house, an a office buildin, an have invested heavily in real estate such as condominiums an shoppin centers an in oil an gas leases. We done hired ole Professor Quackenbush, the English teacher from up at Harvard University, who have been fired from his job for molestin a student, an made him a cook in Mama’s йtouffйe operation. We also hired Colonel Gooch, who got drummed out of the Army after my Medal of Honor tour. Mister Tribble put him in charge of “covert activities.”
   Mama has gone an had us a big ole house built cause she say it ain’t right for a corporate executive like me to be livin in no shack. Mama say Sue can stay on in the shack an keep an eye on things. Ever day now, I got to wear a suit an carry a briefcase like a lawyer. I got to go to meetins all the time an listen to a bunch of shit that sound like pygmie talk, an people be callin me “Mister Gump,” an all. In Mobile, they done give me the keys to the city an axed me to be on the board of directors of the hospital an the symphony orchestra.
   An then one day some people come by the office an say they want to run me for the United States Senate.
   “You’re an absolute natural,” this one feller say. He is wearing a searsucker suit an smokin a big cigar. “A former star football player for Bear Bryant, a war hero, a famous astronaut and the confidant of Presidents—what more can you ask?!” he axe. Mister Claxton is his name.
   “Look,” I tell him, “I am just a idiot. I don’t know nothin bout politics.”
   “Then you will fit in perfectly!” Mister Claxton say. “Listen, we need good men like you. Salt of the earth, I tell you! Salt of the earth!”
   I did not like this idea any more than I like a lot of the other ideas people have for me, on account of other people’s ideas are usually what get me into trouble. But sure enough, when I tole my mama, she get all teary-eyed an proud an say it would be the answer to all her dreams to see her boy be a United States Senator.
   Well, the day come when we is to announce my candidacy. Mister Claxton an them others hired the auditorium up in Mobile an hauled me out on the stage in front of a crowd that paid fifty cents apiece to come listen to my shit. They begin with a lot of long-winded speeches an then it come my turn.
   “My feller Americans,” I begin. Mister Claxton an the others have writ me a speech to give an later they will be questions from the audience. TV cameras are rollin an flashbulbs are poppin an reporters are scribblin in their notebooks. I read the whole speech, which ain’t very long an don’t make much sense—but what do I know? I am jus a idiot.
   When I am finished talkin, a lady from the newspaper stand up an look at her notepad.
   “We are currently on the brink of nuclear disaster,” she say, “the economy is in ruins, our nation is reviled throughout the world, lawlessness prevails in our cities, people starve of hunger every day, religion is gone from our homes, greed and avarice is rampant everywhere, our farmers are going broke, foreigners are invading our country and taking our jobs, our unions are corrupt, babies are dying in the ghettos, taxes are unfair, our schools are in chaos and famine, pestilence and war hang over us like a cloud—in view of all this, Mister Gump,” she axe, “what, in your mind, is the most pressing issue of the moment?” The place was so quiet you coulda heard a pin drop.
   “I got to pee,” I says.
   At this, the crowd went wile! People begun hollerin an cheerin an shoutin an wavin they hands in the air. From the back of the room somebody started chantin an pretty soon the whole auditorium was doin it.
   “WE GOT TO PEE! WE GOT TO PEE! WE GOT TO PEE!” they was yellin.
   My mama had been settin there behind me on the stage an she got up an come drug me away from the speaker’s stand.
   “You ought to be ashamed of yoursef,” she say, “talkin like that in public.”
   “No, no!” Mister Claxton says. “It’s perfect! They love it. This will be our campaign slogan!”
   “What will?” Mama axed. Her eyes narrowed down to little beads.
   “We Got to Pee! ” Mister Claxton say. “Just listen to them! No one has ever had such a rapport with the common people!”
   But mama ain’t buyin none of it. “Whoever heard of anybody usin a campaign slogan like that!” she says. “It’s vulgar an disgusting—besides, what does it mean?”
   “It’s a symbol,” Mister Claxton says. “Just think, we’ll have billboards and placards and bumper stickers made up. Take out television and radio ads. It’s a stroke of genius, that’s what it is. We Got to Pee is a symbol of riddance of the yoke of government oppression—of evacuation of all that is wrong with this country… It signifies frustration and impending relief!”
   “What!” Mama axed suspiciously. “Is you lost your mind?”
   “Forrest,” Mister Claxton says, “you are on your way to Washington.”

   An so it seemed. The campaign was goin along pretty good an “We Got to Pee” had become the byword of the day. People shouted it on the street an from cars an busses. Television commentators an newspaper columnists spent a lot of time trying to tell folks what it meant. Preachers yelled it from their pulpits an children chanted it in school. It was beginnin to look like I was a shoo-in for the election, an, in fact, the candidate runnin against me, he got so desperate he made up his own slogan, “I Got to Pee, Too,” an plastered it all over the state.
   Then it all fell apart, jus like I was afraid it would.
   The “I Got to Pee” deal done come to the attention of the national media an pretty soon the Washington Post an the New Yawk Times sent down their investigating reporters to look into the matter. They axed me a lot of questions an was real nice an friendly-sounding, but then they went back an begun to dig up my past. One day the stories broke on the front page of ever newspaper in the country. “Senatorial Candidate Has Checkered Career,” say the headlines.
   First, they write that I done flunked out of the University my first year. Then they dug up that shit about me an Jenny when the cops hauled me in from the movie theater. Next they drag out the photograph of me showin my ass to President Johnson in the Rose Garden. They axed aroun about my days in Boston with The Cracked Eggs an quote people sayin that I done smoked marijuana an also mention “a possible arson incident” at Harvard University.
   Worst—they done find out about the criminal charges I got for thowin my medal at the U.S. Capitol an that I been sentenced by a judge to a loony asylum. Also, they knew all about my rasslin career, too, an that I was called The Dunce. They even ran a photo of me being tied up by The Professor. Finally, they mention several “unnamed sources” sayin I was involved in a “Hollywood sex scandal with a well-known actress.”
   That did it. Mister Claxton come rushin into campaign headquarters screamin, “We are ruint! We have been stabbed in the back!” an shit like that. But it was over. I had no choice cept to withdraw from the race, an the next day Mama an me an Mister Tribble set down for a talk.
   “Forrest,” Mister Tribble say, “I think it might be good for you to lay low for a while.”
   I knowed he was right. An besides, there is other things that been naggin at my mind for a long time now, though I ain’t said nothin about them before.
   When the srimp bidness first started up, I kind of enjoyed the work, gettin up at dawn an goin down to the ponds an puttin up the nets an then harvestin the srimp an all, an me an Sue settin at night on the porch of the fishin shack playin the harmonica, an gettin a six-pack of beer on Saturday an gettin drunk.
   Now it ain’t nothing like that. I got to go to all sorts of dinner parties where people servin a lot of mysterious-lookin food an the ladies wearin big ole earrings an shit. All day long the phone don’t never stop ringin an people be wantin to axe me bout everthin under the sun. In the Senate, it would have jus been worse. Now I ain’t got no time to mysef as it is, an somehow, things are slippin past me.
   Furthermore, I look in the mirror now an I got wrinkles on my face, an my hair is turnin gray at the edges an I ain’t got as much energy as I used to. I know things are movin along with the bidness, but mysef, I feel like I’m jus spinnin in place. I’m wonderin jus why am I doin all this for? A long time ago, me an Bubba had a plan, which has now gone beyon our wildest dreams, but so what? It ain’t haf as much fun as the time I played against them Nebraska corn shucker jackoffs in the Orange Bowl, or took a ride on my harmonica up at Boston with The Cracked Eggs, or, for that matter, watched “The Beverly Hillbillies” with ole President Johnson.
   An I spose Jenny Curran has somethin to do with it, too, but since ain’t nobody can do nothin bout that, I might as well forget it.
   Anyhow, I realize I got to get away. Mama be weepin an bawlin an daubbin at her eyes with the handkerchief like I figgered she woud, but Mister Tribble understan completely.
   “Why don’t we jus tell everbody you are taking a long vacation, Forrest,” he say. “An of course your share of the bidness will be here whenever you want it.”
   So that’s what I done. One mornin a few days later I got a little cash, an thowed a few things in a dufflebag an then gone down to the plant. I tole Mama an Mister Tribble goodbye an then went aroun an shook hans with everbody else—Mike an Professor Quackenbush an The Turd an The Vegetable an Snake an Coach Fellers an his goons an Bubba’s daddy an all the rest.
   Then I gone to the shack an foun ole Sue.
   “What you gonna do?” I axed.
   Sue grapped holt of my han an then he picked up my bag an carried it out the door. We got in the little rowboat an paddled up to Bayou La Batre an caught the bus to Mobile. A lady in the ticket office there say, “Where you want to go?” an I shrugged my shoulders, so she say, “Why don’t you go to Savannah? I been there once an it is a real nice town.”
   So that’s what we did.

26

   We got off the bus at savannah, where it was rainin to beat the band. Sue an me went in the depot an I got a cup of coffee an took it out under the eaves an tried to figger out what we gonna do nex.
   I ain’t got no plan, really, so after I finish my coffee I took out my harmonica an begun to play. I played a couple of songs, an lo an behole, a feller that was walkin by, he thowed a quarter in my coffee cup. I played a couple of more songs, an after a wile the coffee cup is bout haf full of change.
   It done quit rainin so Sue an me walked on off an in a little bit come to a park in the middle of town. I set down on a bench an played some more an sure enough, people begun to drop quarters an dimes an nickels in the coffee cup. Then ole Sue, he caught on, an when folks would pass by, he’d take the coffee cup an go up to them with it. At the end of the day, I’d got nearly five dollars.
   We slep in the park that night on a bench an it was a fine, clear night an the stars an moon was out. In the mornin we got some breakfast an I begun to play the harmonica again as folks started showin up for work. We made eight bucks that day an nine the nex, an by the end of the week we had done pretty good, considerin. After the weekend, I foun a little music shop an went in there to see if I could find another harmonica in the key of G on account of playing in C all the time was gettin monotonous. Over in a corner I seen that the feller had a used keyboard for sale. It look pretty much like the one ole George used to play with The Cracked Eggs an that he had taught me a few chords on.
   I axed how much he wanted for it, an the feller say two hundrit dollars, but he will make me a deal. So I bought the keyboard an the feller even rigged up a stand on it so’s I could play my harmonica too. It definately improved our popularity with the people. By the end of the nex week we was makin almost ten bucks a day, so I gone on back to the music shop an bought a set of used drums. After a few days practice, I got to where I could play them drums pretty good too. I chucked out the ole Styrofoam coffee cup an got a nice tin cup for Sue to pass aroun an we was doin pretty good for ourselfs. I was playin everthing from “The Night They Drove Ole Dixie Down” to “Swing Lo, Sweet Chariot,” and I had also foun a roomin house that let ole Sue stay there, an served breakfast an supper too.
   One morning Sue an me is going to the park when it started to rain again. One thing about Savannah—it rains buckets ever other day there, or so it seems. We was walking down the street in front of a office building when suddenly I seen something that looked vaguely familiar.
   There is a man in a business suit standing on the sidewalk with a unbrella an he is standin right in front of a big plastic garbage bag. Somebody is under the garbage bag, keepin out of the rain, an all you can see is a pair of hands reachin out from under the bag, shinin the shoes of the man in the suit. I gone acrost the street and looked closer, an lo and behol, I can just make out the little wheels of one of them dolly-wagons stickin out from under the bag too. I was so happy I could of just about bust, an I went up an thowed the garbage bag off an sure enough, it was ole Dan hissef, shinin shoes for a livin!
   “Gimme that bag back you big oaf,” Dan say, “I’m gettin soakin wet out here.” Then he saw Sue. “So you finally got married, huh?” Dan say.
   “It’s a he,” I tole him. “You remember—from when I went to space.”
   “You gonna shine my shoes, or what?” say the feller in the suit.
   “Fuck off,” Dan says, “before I chew your soles in half.” The feller, he walked away.
   “What you doin here, Dan?” I axed.
   “What does it look like I’m doing?” he say. “I’ve become a Communist.”
   “You mean like them we was fightin in the war?” I axed.
   “Nah,” says he, “them was gook Communists. I’m a real Communist—Marx, Lennin, Trotsky—all that bullshit.”
   “Then what you shinin shoes for?” I say.
   “To shame the imperialist lackeys,” he answers. “The way I got it figured, nobody with shined shoes is worth a shit, so the more shoes I shine, the more I’ll send to hell in a handbasket.”
   “Well, if you say so,” I says, an then Dan thowed down his rag an wheel himself back under the awnin to git outta the rain.
   “Awe hell, Forrest, I ain’t no damned Communist,” he say. “They wouldn’t want nobody like me anyhow, way I am.”
   “Sure they would, Dan,” I says. “You always tole me I could be anythin I wanted to be an do anythin I want to do—an so can you.”
   “You still believin that shit?” he axed.
   “I got to see Raquel Welch butt neckit,” I says.
   “Really?” Dan say, “what was it like?”

   Well, after that, Dan an Sue an me kinda teamed up. Dan didn’t want to stay in the boardin house, so he slep outside at night under his garbage bag. “Builds character,” was how he put it. He tole bout what he’d been doin since he left Indianapolis. First, he’d lost all the money from the rasslin business at the dog track an what was lef he drank up. Then he got a job at a auto shop working under cars cause it was easy for him with the little dolly-wagon an all, but he said he got tired of oil an grease bein dripped on him all the time. “I may be a no-legged, no-good, drunken bum,” he say, “but I ain’t never been no greaseball.”
   Nex, he gone back to Washington where they’s havin a big dedication for some monument for us what went to the Vietnam War, an when they seen him, an foun out who he was, they axed him to make a speech. But he got good an drunk at some reception, an forgot what he was gonna say. So he stole a Bible from the hotel they put him up in, an when it come his time to speak, he read them the entire book of Genesis an was fixin to do some excerpts from Numbers when they turned off his mike an hauled his ass away. After that, he tried beggin for a wile, but quit because it was “undignified.”
   I tole him about playin chess with Mister Tribble an about the srimp bidness bein so successful an all, an about runnin for the United States Senate, but he seemed more interested in Raquel Welch.
   “You think them tits of hers are real?” he axed.

   We had been in Savannah about a month, I guess, an was doin pretty good. I done my one-man band act an Sue collected the money an Dan shined people’s shoes in the crowd. One day a guy come from the newspaper an took our pitchers an ran them on the front page.
   “Derelicts Loitering in Public Park,” says the caption.
   One afternoon I’m settin there playin an thinkin maybe we outta go on up to Charleston when I notice a little boy standin right in front of the drums, jus starin at me.
   I was playin “Ridin on the City of New Orleans,” but the little feller kep lookin at me, not smilin or nothin, but they was somethin in his eyes that kinda shined an glowed an in a wierd way reminded me of somethin. An then I look up, an standin there at the edge of the crowd was a lady, an when I saw her, I like to fainted.
   Lo an behole, it was Jenny Curran.
   She done got her hair up in rollers an she looked a bit older, too, an sort of tired, but it is Jenny all right. I am so surprised, I blowed a sour note on my harmonica by mistake, but I finished the song, an Jenny come up an take the little boy by the han.
   Her eyes was beamin, an she say, “Oh, Forrest, I knew it was you when I heard the harmonica. Nobody plays the harmonica like you do.”
   “What you doin here?” I axed.
   “We live here now,” she say. “Donald is assistant sales manager with some people make roofin tiles. We been here bout three years now.”
   Cause I quit playin, the crowd done drifted off an Jenny set down on the bench nex to me. The little boy be foolin aroun with Sue, an Sue, he done started turnin cartwheels so’s the boy would laugh.
   “How come you playin in a one-man band?” Jenny axed. “Mama wrote me you had started a great big ole srimp bidness down at Bayou La Batre an was a millionaire.”
   “It’s a long story,” I says.
   “You didn’t get in trouble again, did you, Forrest?” she say.
   “Nope, not this time,” I says. “How bout you? You doin okay?”
   “Oh, I reckon I am,” she say. “I spose I got what I wanted.”
   “That your little boy?” I axed.
   “Yep,” she say, “ain’t he cute?”
   “Shore is—what you call him?”
   “Forrest.”
   “Forrest?” I say. “You name him after me?”
   “I ought to,” she say sort of quietly. “After all, he’s haf yours.”
   “Hafwhat!”
   “He’s your son, Forrest.”
   “My what!”
   “Your son. Little Forrest.” I looked over an there he was, gigglin an clappin cause Sue was now doin han-stands.
   “I guess I should of tole you,” Jenny say, “but when I lef Indianapolis, you see, I was pregnant. I didn’t want to say anything, I don’t know just why. I felt like, well, there you was, callin yourself ‘The Dunce’ an all, an I was gonna have this baby. An I was worried, sort of, bout how he’d turn out.”
   “You mean, was he gonna be a idiot?”
   “Yeah, sort of,” she say. “But look, Forrest, can’t you see! He ain’t no idiot at all! He’s smart as a whip—gonna go into second grade this year. He made all ‘A’s’ last year. Can you believe it!”
   “You sure he’s mine?” I axed.
   “Ain’t no question of it,” she say. “He wants to be a football player when he grows up—or a astronaut.”
   I look over at the little feller again an he is a strong, fine-lookin boy. His eyes is clear an he don’t look like he afraid of nothin. Him an Sue is playin tic-tac-toe in the dirt.
   “Well,” I says, “now what about, ah, your…”
   “Donald?” Jenny says. “Well, he don’t know bout you. You see, I met him just after I left Indianapolis. An I was bout to start showin an all, an I didn’t know what to do. He’s a nice, kind man. He takes good care of me an little Forrest. We got us a house an two cars an ever Saturday he takes us someplace like the beach or out in the country. We go to church on Sunday, an Donald is savin up to send little Forrest to college an all.”
   “Coud I see him—I mean, jus for a minute or two?” I axed.
   “Sure,” Jenny say, an she call the little feller over.
   “Forrest,” she says, “I want you to meet another Forrest. He’s a ole friend of mine—an he is who you are named after.”
   The little guy come an set down by me an say, “What a funny monkey you got.”
   “That is a orangutang,” I say. “His name is Sue.”
   “How come you call him Sue, if it’s a he? ”
   I knowed right then that I didn’t have no idiot for a son. “Your mama say you want to grow up to be a football player, or a astronaut,” I says.
   “I sure would,” he say. “You know anything about football or astronauts?”
   “Yep,” I say, “a little bit, but maybe you ought to axe your daddy bout that. I’m sure he knows a lot more than me.”
   Then he give me a hug. It weren’t a big hug, but it was enough. “I want to play with Sue some more,” he say, an jump down from the bench, an ole Sue, he done organized a game where little Forrest could thow a coin into the tin cup an Sue would catch it in the air.
   Jenny come over an set nex to me an sighed, an she pat me on the leg.
   “I can’t believe it sometimes,” she say. “We’ve knowed each other nearly thirty years now—ever since first grade.”
   The sun is shinin thru the trees, right on Jenny’s face, an they might of been a tear in her eyes, but it never come, an yet they is somethin there, a heartbeat maybe, but I really couldn’t say what it was, even tho I knowed it was there.
   “I just can’t believe it, that’s all,” she say, an then she lean over an kiss me on the forehead.
   “What’s that?” I axed.
   “Idiots,” Jenny says, an her lips is tremblin. “Who ain’t a idiot?” An then she is gone. She got up an fetched little Forrest an took him by the han an they walked on off.
   Sue come over an set down in front of me an drawed a tic-tac-toe thing in the dirt at my feet. I put a X to the upper right corner, an Sue put a O in the middle, an I knowed right then an there ain’t nobody gonna win.

   Well, after that, I done a couple of things. First, I called Mister Tribble an tole him that anything I got comin in the srimp bidness, to give ten percent of my share to my mama an ten percent to Bubba’s daddy, an the rest, send it all to Jenny for little Forrest.
   After supper, I set up all night thinkin, altho that is not somethin I am sposed to be particularly good at. But what I was thinkin was this: here I have done foun Jenny again after all this time. An she have got our son, an maybe, somehow, we can fix things up.
   But the more I think about this, the more I finally understan it cannot work. And also, I cannot rightly blame it on my bein a idiot—tho that would be nice. Nope, it is jus one of them things. Jus the way it is sometimes, an besides, when all is said an done, I figger the little boy be better off with Jenny an her husband to give him a good home an raise him right so’s he won’t have no peabrain for a daddy.
   Well, a few days later, I gone on off with ole Sue an Dan. We went to Charleston an then Richmond an then Atlanta an then Chattanooga an then Memphis an then Nashville an finally down to New Orleans.
   Now they don’t give a shit what you do in New Orleans, an the three of us is havin the time of our lifes, playin ever day in Jackson Square an watchin the other fruitcakes do they thing.
   I done bought a bicycle with two little sidecars for Sue an Dan to ride in, an ever Sunday we peddle down to the river an set on the bank an go catfishin. Jenny writes me once ever month or so, an sends me pictures of Little Forrest. Last one I got showed him dressed up in a tinymight football suit. They is a girl here that works as a waitress in one of the strip joints an ever once in a wile we get together an ass aroun. Wanda is her name. A lot of times, me an ole Sue an Dan jus cruise aroun the French Quarter an see the sights, an believe me, they is some odd-lookin people there besides us—look like they might be lef over from the Russian Revolution or somethin.
   A guy from the local newspaper come by one day an say he want to do a story on me, cause I am the “best one-man band” he ever heard. The feller begun axin me a lot of questions bout my life, an so I begun to tell him the whole story. But even before I got haf thru, he done walked off; say he can’t print nothin like that cause nobody would’n ever believe it.
   But let me tell you this: sometimes at night, when I look up at the stars, an see the whole sky jus laid out there, don’t you think I ain’t rememberin it all. I still got dreams like anybody else, an ever so often, I am thinkin about how things might of been. An then, all of a sudden, I’m forty, fifty, sixty years ole, you know?
   Well, so what? I may be a idiot, but most of the time, anyway, I tried to do the right thing—an dreams is jus dreams, ain’t they? So whatever else has happened, I am figgerin this: I can always look back an say, at least I ain’t led no hum-drum life.
   You know what I mean?

Gump & Company

Winston Groom

Gump & Company
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14

Gump & Company
by Winston Groom

   To my lovely wife, Anne-Clinton Groom, who has been with Forrest for lo these lovely years.




   The Fool’s Prayer

   The royal feast was done; the King
   Sought some new sport to banish care,
   And to his jester cried: Sir Fool,
   Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!

   The jester doffed his cap and bells,
   And stood the mocking court before;
   They could not see the bitter smile
   Behind the painted grin he wore.

   He bowed his head, and bent his knee
   Upon the monarch’s silken stool;
   His pleading voice arose: “O Lord,
   Be merciful to me, a fool!”

   The room was hushed; in silence rose
   The King, and sought his gardens cool,
   And walked apart, and murmured low,
   “Be merciful to me, a fool!”

Edward Rowland Sill, 1868