Free A Fairy Tale of New York by J. P. Donleavy Page A

cake. My phone is off the hook. Because every guy I ever knew is ringing me. Want to rush right over. So I can put my head on their shoulders. And there I am. Harry threw his seven. And I 'm with the man who buries him."
    "I merely assisted. And I hope I 'm not imposing."
    "Who's imposing. You protected me. A big guy like Willie, that'll humiliate him for the rest of his life. All he had. Just being able to stand up and say I'll kill ya. With his bare hands."
    Mrs Sourpuss stabbing an olive. Licking it with the tip of her tongue. Then wrapping her lips around the green and sucking it into her mouth. To chew and wash it down with whiskey and soda. She sits ov3r on her side propped by a hand, The fat oval diamond on her finger glinting blue and flashing white. Raises her foot and kicks the sole of mine with her slipper. Lamp light fanning up on the wall. The gilt framed gold red and blue of icons. Holding up crosses. Heads of saints. Photographs and drawings of the Nevski Cathedral. And my crotch is rotted out of my underwear.
    "This is a very pleasant apartment.''
    "Harry owns an interest in the building. Which according to my lawyer is my interest now. I knocked down a lot of walls his first wife had up. Her taste was for the birds. What lousy taste she had. I got in these two queers. They danced around flinging up the fabrics. Put in those blue and white tiles around the fireplace. I think it looks kind of cute. Those green glass balls hanging there used to hold up real fishing nets. They call it seaport elegant. They said fabric was going on walls these days. These days. Who knows what days. A month later they were telling me spring was coming and nobody who was somebody would want to get caught with the winter walls. So I went along with them. Knocked all the plaster off down to the brick. That lasted the summer. Till it was the New England drift wood look in the autumn. I finally said take every god damn thing off the walls, plaster them and paint them orange.''
    "It's very nice."
    "Help yourself to some more whiskey, Cornelius.''
    "Thank you. Will you.''
    "Yes. Fill her up. I guess I could say I have what most girls want. Anyway I always knew I was made for fancy living. I sure didn't want my mother's life. Ironing in the cellar. Upstairs putting our best table cloth over the table for Sunday dinner. Bored me crazy. Since the age of five I was always trying to escape. I was married and divorced at sixteen. Married again at seventeen. Holding out in a little hole in the wall while Willie was getting his nose broken trying to make a living playing football. We never went out. He wouldn't let me make friends or anybody see me. Then at exactly three boring o'clock one afternoon. I was sitting reading a magazine. I remember everything on that table. A box of fig newtons. A glass of milk. I read if you eat beets you pee pink. This was the biggest thing I had to look forward to. So I had two beets I was trying to peel. And a box of cookies I had just ate. Then I turned this page. There were these bunch of rubes with a god damn motor boat on a tropical island that one guy owned. With his own golf course and seaplane. And these babes drinking mint juleps on the beach. I said fuck this shit I'm getting out of here and going there. In one big god damn hurry. I did. And here I am all my grey hairs later and boy do I like it. At least I'm going to from now on. Soon as I get over all these damn worries. You just don't know when you're safe. Like today. The detectives leave. Willie shows up. They cost a hundred dollars a day. But it's cheap compared to Harry keeping a dozen sluts in about a dozen very expensive hotel suites in about eight states. Eight this minute they're all checking out. I called each one personally. With the happy news. That it was the last stop on the gravy train. All get off. Because now I'm the only one getting on. And boy. Let me tell you. But for Christ's sake what am I telling you. What would a mere infant like