Free Atop an Underwood by Jack Kerouac Page B

bad hey, or are you allergic . . . . (LAUGHS)
    LEGIONNAIRE: I like Kipling’s description of a female.
    JIM: What did he call them?
    JACK: “A rag, a bone, and a shock of hair . . .” or something like that . . .
    LEGIONNAIRE: Just about . . .
    JIM: C’mon Jack, let’s go back and throw some ice down Ann’s back. She’ll tear for sure!
    JACK: Wait a minute, Jim. I want to find out something. Legionnaire, do you think we’ll get in this war?
    JIM: WAR? Oh man, how I’d like to get at one of those Nazis?
    LEGIONNAIRE (SHARPLY): It would be an adventure, wouldn’t it.
    JIM: I’ll say—it’d be one honey of a vacation from school.
    LEGIONNAIRE: Yes. I can just picture it.
    JIM (BOLDLY): Hah! I know what you’re thinking about, soldier. Well, listen, I’m not afraid of any Nazi nor any war....
    LEGIONNAIRE: Neither was I.
    JIM: There you are.
    JACK: I dunno .... I worked pretty hard to get to college. I’d hate to leave now to go to war and fight.
    LEGIONNAIRE: Fight whom?
    JIM: Why, the Nazis.
    LEGIONNAIRE: (LAUGHS LONG AND LOUD) Nazis! You won’t be fighting Nazis. You’ll be fighting the dregs of imperfect humanity. Did you ever hear of the perfect social system?
    JACK (EAGERLY): In some of Wells’ Utopias . . . .
    LEGIONNAIRE: Wells’ Utopias are Wells’ Utopias. That’s where you stop boy scout.
    JACK: Oh no, I don’t stop there. I know they are pure fantasy . . . .
    JIM: Cut it out! Both of you are breaking my heart. I’m going back to the party. C’mon Jack. He’s shell-shocked or something.
    LEGIONNAIRE: (QUIETLY AND OMINOUSLY) No, I’m not shell-shocked. I’m just plain shocked.
    JIM (SARCASTICALLY): Shocked at what—my “impertinence” (MIMICS SCHOOL TEACHER)
    LEGIONNAIRE: No, kid. Not at you. Not at anyone. I’m just shocked at it all.
    JIM: (FRANTICALLY): What all?
    LEGIONNAIRE: Everything.
    JIM: Oh a Communist, hey?
    LEGIONNAIRE: Communists don’t get shocked by things . . . . they shock them.
    JIM: Oh well, whatever you are, I’m going to have another beer.
    LEGIONNAIRE (FIERCELY): I’ll tell you what I am!
    HUBBUB STOPS COMPLETELY FOR FIRST TIME IN SKIT, LEAVING A HEAVY SILENCE.
    Go ahead all of you! Stare at me to your hearts’ content. I’ll tell you who I am! And what I am! I’m the “Spirit of ‘14.” No doubt you’ve heard of the Spirit of ’76. Well look me over. I’m the Spirit of ’14.
    JIM: So what. (BREAKS SILENCE, AND CAUSES SNICKERS AND SIGNS OF A RETURN TO THE JOYFUL HUBBUB WHICH HAD BEEN HALTED BY THE LEGIONNAIRE’S CRY.)
    JACK: Shut up, Jim.
    JIM: Why should I? And who are you to keep me from . . . . .
    LEGIONNAIRE (IN A DEAFENING ROAR): War! (HUBBUB AGAIN DIES TO NOTHING) War! I’m the old man himself. I’m war! Look at me. Here’s where my left hand used to be, way back in ’14. Do you see this cute little stump? There used to be a fine, five-fingered hand sticking out from there once upon a time. Sure! I’m war! I can tell you all about it because I’m war! I can tell you about war better than the industrialist or warmonger who’s caused it for his own sleazy private gain—because I’m war. He’s only my creator. I’m the masterpiece that’s bringing OH’S and AH’S from your European bulldogs. I’m that intangible masterpiece called war! Look at me.
    VOICES OF GIRLS: I’m scared of him. Let’s get out of here . . . .
    MARGIE: He’s crazy or something.
    JIM: Shut up you empty-headed women. This guy is saying something that takes a hold of me in the insides like . . . .
    LEGIONNAIRE (GASPING AND COUGHING): (ROARS) Yes! I am war! (COUGHS) I was born in the good old U.S.A. like a lot of you, but I was molded into a graceful sculptor’s dream in 1914 so that I could satiate the wild creative desires of society’s foppish misfits.
    Someone