21b
JUDSON JEROME
plates, shaking them in the water until, unfortunately, they slipped
out of his fingers and he watched them circling down out of sight.
In the distance he could see a bath or boat house, and he set off
in that direction,
his
joy in the morning increasing as he noticed what
appeared to be an antenna on the building. One of the doors was
marked MEN, but Everett had very little interest in men at that
moment and so chose the other, marked WOMEN.
There were certainly a lot of them, more than a man could ask
for,
all
oriental, all pregnant, all nude. The bartender was also nude,
standing in the comer, his arms folded on his chest, looking at the
ceiling in spite of the fact that the old man, the crooner, also nude,
was on
his
knees before him doing something to him which Everett
would not choose to mention. Everett, who had always been a good
mixer, sat on a vacant commode and began chatting amiably with
the young lady on
his
left. He told her that he felt he could face the
wave of the future, which was the general subject of conversation,
with equanimity.
She felt that she thought the wave was on the way and graphic–
ally patted her belly and those of several of her neighbors.
He thought that he felt that he sensed whole new markets
opening up.
She felt that he felt that she could not understand what he
thought he felt, and pouted.
Well, he felt that much was to be gained by feeling one another
out on the subject.
Feeling radiantly interracial and toothless, Everett made
his
excuses, flushed, and moved on down the line. He wished to tell some–
one about
his
contacts in Washington, which should
be
useful, and
chose for the purpose a mature-looking woman, reclining, looking
rather like a sock in which someone had left a darning egg, and-a
point of common ground-as toothless as himself.
"My contacts in Washington," he began casually, mouthing his
whisper, "are daily in the news."
She cackled and spit betel juice.
"They counsel moderation," Everett said, stretching out beside
her.
She masticated meditatively, her old eyes brown and crazed as
agates.
