33:4
SAUL BELLOW
IMOGEN:
This is one of Mr. Bummidge's therapeutic life episodes.
BUMMIDGE:
(Sings)
La
donna e mobile
Bum bum il vento
M utatashento.
WINKLEMAN:
This is frightful.
MOTr:
I remember. We did this one before ... "Okay, I cutta you
hair. But I don't take'a you Papa's money any more. You voice is a
lousy."
BUMMIDGE:
-In a rage, I throw myself on the barber.
(They wrestle
clumsily. To
SHELDON)
Hit me with the mop, you dummy.
SHELDON:
But boss, I'm your bodyguard.
BUMMIDGE:
(Screams)
Hit me! ...
(He stands after the blow, drinking
its effect deeply)
Of course, I didn't tell. I sang at home. I pocketed
the lesson money.
(Tests his unmusical voice)
Ha-Come back to
Sorrento. You pig, un momento. I had no ear? Where was the ear?
Papa twisted it. I think I was twelve. Yes, this is it, fellows. Twelve
years old.
WINKLEMAN:
He doesn't look a day under fifty-five.
BUMMIDGE:
Absolutely twelve. In the candy store. Sheldon, you're my
father. My father catches me stealing candy.
IMOGEN:
What was your uncle really like?
WINKLEMAN:
A thin meek man with a touch of palsy.
BUMMIDGE:
Quiet there. I'm barreling. In Williamsburg, we were so
poor, so poor. Underprivileged.
WINKLEMAN:
Here comes the poor childhood once more.
IMOGEN:
(Smiles)
Yes.
BUMMIDGE
consults with
MOTI
and
SHELDON.
WINKLEMAN:
How he had to fetch coal and wood. How he froze his
bottom peddling papers and had to be rubbed with goosegrease. How
they never had real toilet paper in the bathroom.
IMOGEN:
Just orange wrappers, right?
WINKLEMAN:
How his father beat him with the strap . . . with the
buckle. Always gloating over his lousy memories.
BUMMIDGE :
Papa wanted me to be a little old man, not a child. He
hated children. Other kids got spending money. Not me. Papa said,
"What for you need a nickel, ain't I got a candy store?" But I had to
steal a piece of chocolate and wolf it down in the toilet. It would
tum into a sweet choking foam. I gnashed the caramels. I gagged on
molasses candy. Then he catches me. There's a Mary Jane wrapper
floating in the bowl. He smells the peanut butter on my breath. Now
Sheldon, you grab my ear. Yell, "Thief. Goniff!"
