Free Coney by Amram Ducovny Page B

t’ings!”
    Fifi cupped one breast with both hands and jiggled it at him, saying:
    â€œBut it is all family fight,
monsieur sacre bleu
. It not mean
rien
. We family. You
envie?”
    â€œYou vood drown him vit dose mountains,” Olga said and waited for laughs that did not arrive.
    Fifi dropped her chin over her right breast and kissed it loudly.
    â€œMine are soft, full of life, where armies nurse to
gloire.
You
seins
give muscles and sweat. Ze odor of a man.”
    â€œAnd what, pray tell O rotund oracle, is wrong with the odor of a man?” Albert-Alberta said, cocking his head coquettishly. “It is a sign of manhood, just as shit and semen are the smells of a boy.”
    Otto stood up and flexed his biceps which rose like a camel’s hump from the hem of his short-sleeved shirt.
    â€œ
Ach
,” he said, pointing to Albert-Alberta, “this call itself man. A man has strength. You say you half-woman. I say you all woman.”
    Albert-Alberta nodded and replied: “Ergo of no possible use to you.” He sang: ‘
Tell me Lord Montague, How many hairy assholes did you screw? Was it one or ninety-two? Oh, tell me, Lord Montague.
”
    Fifi applauded vigorously, requiring her to extend her arms so that her palms could collide beyond her breasts.
    Harry slowly lifted his head and, receiving no reprimand, swiveled his neck.
    Lohu raised his hand and shook it like a schoolboy bursting with the right answer.
    â€œI pity all of you,” he said.
    His brother added: “All of you understand nothing.”
    The others took no notice, except for Albert-Alberta, who made the sign of the Cross, and whispered:
    â€œBuddha two, Jesus nothing. But it’s a great match, folks.”
    â€œBut we forget our guest,” Fifi said. “’Arry, you like Otto do strong trick for you?”
    Harry remembered Mike Mazurki in a movie.
    â€œCould you tear a telephone book in two?”
    Everyone laughed. Fifi patted him on the head.
    â€œ
Mon petit
, zat is wonderful.
Alors
, Otto, our guest make request.”
    â€œZere is no book in zis shithouse.”
    Albert-Alberta ran to the foyer and returned with a Brooklyn phone directory. He bounded up to Otto, bowed low and, sweeping his arm grandly in the style of a Shakespearean fop, laid the book on his lap. Otto, staring straight ahead, spread his knees. The book fell to the floor.
    Jo-Jo slid off his chair, disappearing under the table, and surfaced back at his seat holding the book. He opened it and, whelping with strain, tore it in half along the binding, Everyone but Otto applauded. Tensing his biceps, the strong man said:
    â€œYah, yah, is funny. Now we go out and lift cars.”
    â€œWhy is to be ashamed of trick? If not tricks, how we make living?”
    Otto chomped on his cheeks.
    â€œâ€™Arry,
écoute
, Otto, he can tear book like in show. But he is like chef. He need time to bake book in oven. Zen is
très simple.”
    â€œLie,” Otto shouted.
    â€œFifi,” Jamie said, rolling his eyes, “you promised us the Boze Art today.”
    The room froze. Harry thought of the wax museum. Fifi patted Harry’s head.
    â€œAlors, porquoi pas
, ze boy needs education. I explain:
    â€œâ€™Arry, in
Paris
, once in ze year, we have
Beaux Arts Ball
. All
étudiants
of ze arts invited. At midnight all doors locked and each mustremove clothes. Of course one can depart before midnight, but who do such
faux pas
? The doors locked till six
matin
. Not even
gendarmes
can enter, and ze
étudiants
amuse zemself with much pleasure. I tell
mes amis
zis and they have
envie
for Beaux Arts even more zan once in year. You go with us. Zere is no harm,
mon petit
, I promise. Because you ze one
vrai étudiant
here, you have honor to disrobing
moi, la reine.”
    She turned her palms in a lifting motion. Otto tugged her to her feet. The others savagely tore at their clothes. Shirts, underwear and socks flew