He traveled on in this vein for some time. He certainly loved to run himself down. I sat back and drank it in.
Now it was a new tack. Do you know why I never became a writer?
No, I replied, amazed that he had ever entertained the thought.
Because I found out almost immediately that I had nothing to say. I've never lived, that's the long and short of it. Risk nothing, gain nothing. What's that Oriental saying? ‘To fear is not to sow because of the birds.’ That says it. Those crazy Russians you give me to read, they all had experience of life, even if they never budged from the spot they were born in. For things to happen there must be a suitable climate. And if the climate is lacking, you create one. That is, if you have genius. I never created a thing. I play the game, and I play it according to the rules. The answer to that, in case you don't know it, is death. Yep, I'm as good as dead already. But crack this now: it's when I'm deadest that I fuck the best. Figure it out, if you can! The last time I slept with her, just to give you an illustration, I didn't bother to take my clothes off. I climbed in—coat, shoes, and all. It seemed perfectly natural, considering the state of mind I was in. Nor did it bother her in the least. As I say, I climbed into bed with her fully dressed and I said:Why don't we just lie here and fuck ourselves to death? A strange idea, what? Especially coming from a respected lawyer with a family and all that. Anyway, the words had hardly left my mouth when I said to myself: ‘You dope! You're dead already. Why pretend?)—How do you like that? With that I gave myself up to it ... to the fucking, I mean.
Here I threw in a teaser. Had he ever pictured himself, I asked, possessing a prick ... and using ill ... in the hereafter?
Have I? he exclaimed. That's just what bothers me, that very thought. An immortal life with an extension prick hooked to my brain is something I don't fancy in the least. Not that I want to lead the life of an angel either. I want to be myself, John Stymer, with all the bloody problems that are mine. I want time to think things out ... a thousand years or more. Sounds goofy, doesn't it? But that's how I'm built. The Marquis de Sade, he had loads of time on his hands. He thought out a lot of things, I must admit, but I can't agree with his conclusions. Anyway, what I want to say is—it's not so terrible to spend your life in prison ... if you have an active mind. What is terrible is to make a prisoner of yourself. And that's what most of us are—self-made prisoners. There are scarcely a dozen men in a generation who break out. Once you see life with a clear eye it's all a farce. A grand farce. Imagine a man wasting his life defending or convicting others! The business of law is thoroughly insane. Nobody is a whit better off because we have laws. No, it's a fool's game, dignified by giving it a pompous name. To-morrow I may find myself sitting on the bench. A judge, no less. Will I think any more of myself because I'm called a judge? Will I be able to change anything? Not on your life. I'll play the game again ... the judges’ game. That's why I say we're licked from the start. I'm aware of the fact that we all have a part to play and that all any one can do, supposedly, is to play his part to the best of his ability. Well, I don't like my part. The idea of playing a part doesn't appeal to me. Not even if the parts be interchangeable. You get me? I believe it's time we had a new deal, a new set-up. The courts have to go, the laws have to go, the police have to go, the prisons have to go. It's insane, the whole business. That's why I fuck my head off.. You would too, if you could see it as I do. He broke off, sputtering like a Bre-cracker.
After a brief silence he informed me that we were soon there. Remember, make yourself at home. Do anything, say anything you please. Nobody will stop you. If you Want to take a crack at her, it's O.K. with me. Only don't make a habit of it!
The house was shrouded in darkness as we pulled into the driveway. A note was pinned to the dining room table. From Belle, the great fuckaree. She had grown tired of waiting for us, didn't believe we would make it, and so on.
Where is she, then? I asked.
Probably gone to the city to stay the night with a friend.
He didn't seem greatly upset, I must say. After a few grunts ... the bitch this and the bitch that ... he went to the refrigerator to see what there was in the way of leftovers.
We might as well stay the night here, he said. She's left us some baked beans and cold ham, I see. Will that hold you?
As we were polishing off the remnants he informed me that there was a comfortable room upstairs with twin beds. Now we can have a good talk, he said.
I was ready enough for bed but not for a heart to heart talk. As for Stymer, nothing seemed capable of slowing down the machinery of his mind, neither frost nor drink nor fatigue itself.
I would have dropped off immediately on hitting the pillow had Stymer not opened fire in the way he did. Suddenly I was as wide awake as if I had taken a double dose of benzadrine. His first words, delivered in a steady, even tone, electrified me.
There's nothing surprises you very much, I notice. Well, get a load of this...
That's how be began.
One of the reasons I'm such a good lawyer is because I'm also something of a criminal. You'd hardly think me capable of plotting another person's death, would you? Well, I am. I've decided to do away with my wife. Just how, I don't know yet. It's not because of Belle, either. It's just that she bores me to death. I can't stand it any longer. For twenty years now I haven't had an intelligent word from her. She's driven me to the last ditch, and she knows it. She knows all about Belle; there's never been any secret about that. All she cares about is that it shouldn't leak out. It's my wife, God damn her! who turned me into a masturbator, I was that sick of her, almost from the beginning, that the thought of sleeping with her made me ill. True, we might have arranged a divorce. But why support a lump of clay for the rest of my life? Since I fell in with Belle I've had a chance to do a little thinking and planning. My one aim is to get out of the country, far away, and start all over again. At what I don't know. Not the law, certainly. I want isolation and I want to do as little work as possible.
He took a breath. I made no comments. He expected none.
To be frank with you, I was wondering if I could tempt you to join me. I'd take care of you as long as the money held out, that's understood. I was thinking it out as we drove here. That note from Belle—I dictated the message, I had no thought of switching things when we started, please believe me. But the more we talked the more I felt that you were just the person I'd like to have around, if I made the jump.
He hesitated a second, then added: I had to tell you about my wife because ... because to live in close quarters with some one and keep a secret of that sort would be too much of a strain.
But I've got a wife too! I found myself exclaiming.
Though I haven't much use for her, I don't see myself doing her in just to run off somewhere with you.
