you know, i believe i could stand a cup of java.
so you're toby.
you're not toby?
well, i'll call him anything he wants. i always say people can call me anything they want, long as they don't call me late for supper! kathy and marian think it's pretty funny. they laugh. caroline smiles. toby just stares.
so, jack, you like school?
who made this?
well, well, well, all i can say is that you people are pretty lucky to live in a house where -- oh. marian puts a cigarette into her mouth. dwight jumps up, pulls a velvet case from his pocket and extracts a mono- grammed zippo. he snaps open the top of the lighter against his leg, and holds the flame in front of marian's face. she lights her cigarette. then dwight perform the zippo drama in reverse. what a conversation stopper. finally, kathy speaks to toby.
aw, you'll love it. great air, great water. for scenery, all you have to do is step outside your front door and open your eyes. and there's a turkey shoot thanksgiving day. your mom said you might like it, so i signed you up. toby sits up, eager.
 air like wine at my place, and i don't mind saying i wouldn't live anywhere else, and that's the god's honest truth. there's good schools, honest people, and some of the best fishing in the world. ted williams -- you like baseball, toby? that is, jack, i mean -- you like baseball? 'cause ted williams, whom i believe is one of the all-time greats, is also a world-class angler. many's the day he and i've talked over the best way to get a fish to say yes to a hook.
hunting, too: there's game everywhere you look. i don't think i flatter myself by saying that i'm something of a whiz with a rifle, and concrete gives me every opportunity to prove it.
they always show you salmon fighting to get upstream, but they never show you what they look like when they get there. her face strained, caroline leans over for a closer look. the salmon swim in slow, stunned circles, some with an eye missing or hanging by a membrane, a hideous sight.
they'll spawn, and then they'll die. they're dying now.
so here we go. welcome to concrete. dwight's home sweet home. finest people in the whole state of washington, you ask me. lots of churches, too. a neighbor of mine says, "looking for nice churches, come to concrete. looking for sin, go to hell." i think that's funny.  caroline and toby are severely underimpressed with their first impression of concrete.
all the houses are converted army barracks, made into duplexes -- three children exit the house. skipper, a pleasant boy who is average in every way, is 17. norma is 18, slow- spoken and sensual, toby cannot take his eyes off her. the third is pearl, two years younger than toby. pearl has a bald spot the size of a dollar, high on the side of her head.
well. let's see here. kids, this is my pretty friend, caroline wolff, and her boy to.
jack wolff. these are my kids: skipper, norma and my baby, pearl. everybody says hello, shakes hands, then they all head into the house.
okay, so that was the living room; over here is the kitchen -- i plan on getting all new fixtures in here -- and down that hall are the three bedrooms and the bath. he stops at an extra, no-particular-purpose, nondescript room furnished only by two easy chairs and a card table.
this is sort of a lounging area. you know, just in case you want to.
 lounge. skipper snorts with laughter, but cuts it off when dwight gives him a look. toby, trying to be good, bites his lip to keep from laughing.
and over there's where i work.
not that isolated.
aw, there's plenty to do in concrete if you kids would take a little initiative. when i was growing up we didn't have t.v. -- we used our imaginations. we read the classics. we played musical instruments. you show me a bored kid, i'll show you a lazy kid.
sax. tenor sax. skipper and norma glance at each other, then look away. caroline takes a cigarette from her purse. again dwight jumps to her service: we are once more treated to the mini-drama of dwight unsheathing the zippo from its velvet case, opening the top on his pants leg, etc.
it's a few miles downriver.
come off it -- it's not that far.
ah, you'd bellyache if the goddam school was in your fugging back yard. just shut your god- damn pie-hole. they all shut their pie-holes. the six walk in a tense, uncomfortable silence for five full beats. then pearl tries to help out:
'turkey shoot' is just a figure of speech.
no, it's just regulation paper targets. it's a test of skill. and, jack, i just found out yesterday that they won't let kids shoot.
i know, but they got it all screwed up somehow and told me wrong at first. toby starts to argue, but caroline touches his arm.
i don't make the rules, caroline. if i made the rules, i might make different ones, but i don't make the rules.
i got just one thing to say. i'm sitting at the table with the best damn shot in the county! everybody relaxes, and general conversation begins.
here i am, you lucky people!
go get it -- the pelt's worth fifty bucks, minimum.
get it!
sick to your stomach? a hotshot like you?
that's what i hear. i hear you're a real hotshot. come and go where you please, do what you please. isn't that right? yeah, regular man about town. performer, too. that right, jack? you a performer?
that's a goddamned lie. dwight keeps glancing from the road to toby, and back again.
if there's one thing i can't stomach, it's a liar.
sure you are. you or marian. is marian a liar? she says you're quite the little performer. is that a lie? you tell me that's a lie and we'll drive back to seattle so you can call her a liar to her face. you want me to do that?
then you must be the one's a liar, right? and you're a performer?
you guess? you guess? let's see your act. go on. do your act. i'm waiting.
sure you can.
do me. i hear you do me. again toby shakes his head, and then gasps as the car skids hideously close to the cliff's edge. dwight is oblivious to the danger.
yeah, i hear you're good at doing me. here. do me with the lighter. go on. take it. dwight holds out the velvet-covered zippo, driving with one hand, and the car is all over the road. dwight puts the lighter back into his pocket. the car slows a bit.
hotshot. you pull that hotshot stuff around me and i'll break every bone in your body. you understand me? you're in for a change, mister. you got that? huh? you got that good? you're in for a whole 'nother ballgame.
skipper, go get that washtub out back, and pearl, bring the hose around and fill it up. hotshot and me hit a beaver. we'll salt him down. skipper and pearl move out on the run. dwight slits the beaver from throat to testicles, guts it, then pulls the skin off.
i know you think you're better than me. caroline told me all about your rich daddy and your prep-school brother, but your fancy days are over: you're a concrete boy now. i'm gonna give you a big injection of concrete. that's right -- inoculate you. oh, my, yes. you're gonna find out that in concrete we have to be able to do more than sing fats domino songs, we work.  skipper and pearl bring the tub with four blue stars painted on its side, dwight plops the skinned beaver into the water. the hairless carcass stands in the tub, its chin on the edge. pearl shudders and turns away.
speaking of changing, i had a talk with jack on the way up here, and he says he wants to be a better boy. and that's good, 'cause things weren't going well for him in seattle: the police actually came to his house to talk to caroline about him. uh-huh, the police.
so here's what i think: i think idle hands are the devil's workshop, and so i found our jack a little something to do. i picked up two barrels of horse- chestnuts in the park. you can spend your evenings hulling 'em. and i enrolled you in the boy scouts, and you've got a paper route, starting monday, every afternoon from three to six-thirty -- pays fifty-five bucks a month. what d'you say?
that's what i like to hear. okay, you guys get these dishes cleaned up. let's show jack how we do it in concrete.
 'cause i don't believe that crap, you know? i believe there is such a thing as a bad boy -- bad clear through. and it's gonna be my job to turn you around, to kill or cure. kill. or. cure. understand? and i'm up to the job, oh yes, believe me, hotshot, i am ready, willing and able to take you on -- you and that jibagoo music you like to sing. i'm just the guy to knock that music out of your head and put in some respect and obedience. now your mother has just about washed her hands of you -- that's obvious, 'cause she's shipped you off up here. i mean, she has had it with you. she told me: she said 'dwight, i just can't handle him anymore.' so don't go crying to mama, 'cause mama won't listen. mama is sick to death of her baby boy.
and your rich daddy warbucks and your princeton brother don't give a shit about you, 'cause caroline told me they haven't even written in over two years. so it looks like i'm all you got now -- it's just you and me. feels sort of inevitable, doesn't it, hotshot? it's like we were fated for each other, like i'm the one guy on earth could set you straight. and don't you ever think i won't enjoy doing it, 'cause.
open the hell up! i got us a treat! pearl opens the door revealing a beaming dwight holding two dishpans piled high with snow. we see through the doorway that the sun is shining and there isn't snow anywhere.
 heard there was a fresh snow this morning, so i drove up to the mountains. i stopped in a field where it was all clean. i was finished packing it up high when somebody said.  this's private property, in case you're interested. i turned around and there was this woman.  yechh! ugliest woman i ever saw -- ugly as a madman's ass she was. and frowning on top of it. everybody laughs.
she was!
i didn't say nothin' -- i ran. everybody laughs again. they eat in silence for a beat.
i'm gonna get you a scout uniform, jack.
i'm getting one for me, too. don't believe in doing anything halfway. if you're serious about the scouts.  .  then i want you to do it right. we'll do it right together. dwight takes out a magazine entitled boy's life. he hands it to toby.
i got you a subscription to this. i'll take the price out of your paper route money.
it's the official scout magazine. tells about what it means to be a scout, what kind of boy you need to be, and, oh, about merit badges and stuff like that. toby opens the book at random, reads from it.
hell, yes, you could. you're a bright kid. i want this scout thing done right, okay? toby nods, enthusiastic, happy.
the hell you say.
you're gonna shit and fall back in it -- that's all you're gonna do. now get out here.
shut your pie-hole. you look fine.
you act like an idiot, you look fine.
i said i'd try to get you a new uniform. beside, this one is new -- new to you.
oh piss and moan -- all you can do is piss and moan.
they didn't have second-hand uniforms in my size.
and what're you gonna tell caroline this weekend? you gonna say you wouldn't join the scouts because.  him didn't wike his widdle uniform? dwight picks up the copy of boy's life and thumbs through it, he reads:
'no boy given over to dissipation or negativity can stand the gaff. he quickly tires and gives up. he is the type who usually lacks courage at the crucial moment. he cannot take punishment and come back smiling.' dwight looks at toby expectantly. toby hesitates, then gives up.
hotshot, you don't know it yet, but me and concrete are in your blood. we're going to make a man of you yet -- and in years to come you'll thank me. you'll remember me. me and concrete.
oh, we have us some pretty good times. don't we, jack? have us some good times? toby, not looking away from the radio, nods.
we go to the scouts together every week. he's got a good start already on merit badges.
 though he does concentrate too much on the easy ones, like the one for dental hygiene.  .  and we had snowcream one night, and, oh, just lots of stuff. caroline glances at toby, then at dwight, then back again.
now that's a song. not all this elvis presley shit. elvis sings about like i do brain surgery. he imitates elvis -- moves his hips slightly and sings a few notes:
'.  uh-huh-huh, my blue suede shoes.' dwight gives toby a flash of his teeth and toby smiles back.
let's get this place ready for caroline. they begin painting. after only a few strokes, though, toby looks doubtful.
i got a good deal on this paint. it'll darken up when it dries.
what? i like it. it looks clean.
sort of stands out, doesn't it?
m-m-m. there's not a straight line on you -- everything's curved. caroline draws him up to her, and they kiss. then dwight turns caroline on her side, away from him, pre- paring to enter her. caroline makes a small sound of protest, turning back toward him.
it's good this way.
oh, no -- i just don't.  uh.  like that way.
no, i don't like it. i can't handle it -- i don't like to see the face.
look, you can get it doggie-style or you can get it laying on your side -- those are your only choices. this is my house, and i get to say. wherever mcginty sits is the head of the table, you know? disgusted, caroline turns back away from dwight. he shifts down on the bed a few inches, again preparing to enter her.
who won?
hot damn! you actually gave little lord gayle a black eye?
but it was all puffed up? then it was a shiner.
how'd it start?
well, he sure's hell can't sue you for slander. that boy fights for the pink team. did you make him cry?
he dry-gulched you. now that's your fault. you gotta keep your guard up. there's no excuse for getting dry-gulched. i'll show you a couple moves after supper that'll leave miss arthur gayle wondering what month it is.
 so he says, 'you and who else's army?' 'just the three of us,' i say. 'me, myself and i.' well, after school he's waiting for me and he yells something -- i tell you, with people like that, you got to hurt 'em, gotta inflict pain, or they'll never leave you alone.
so it was real hot out, okay? and there were these horse turds laying all over the place. i picked one up and went up to him, but not acting tough, okay? acting more like, 'oh gee, i'm so scared, please don't hurt me.' sort of like this: dwight slumps his shoulders, drops his chin, and looks up through his eyebrows, a simpering expression on his face.
so i say, 'excuse me, but what's the problem?' and he starts in on me again, blah, blah, blah, and i jam a horse turd right into that big mouth. then i give him a sucker punch in the breadbasket, and he goes down like a.  dwight goes on, relishing the story.
no, no. from the shoulder. straight. like this. this. otherwise you leave yourself wide open. yeah, better, better.  and keep those feet moving, shuffle, shuffle, that's right.  now try for my face.  good.
okay. now you can always kick somebody in the balls, but i like this one better: what you do is hit 'em in the throat with the side of your forearm. you wait 'til -- hah! without warning, dwight lunges at toby and swings the side of his arm toward toby's throat. toby dodges wildly, falling backward over a box of sports equipment.
now that's dry-gulching. hit 'em in the throat, but do it before they're expecting it. now you try.
you won't.
come onnn. you're not trying. again toby hesitates, again he says "hah!" and gives a lukewarm swing at dwight's throat.
well, don't go all shy and delicate on me -- you're as sissy as little miss arthur gayle. yeah -- i'll just call you 'little miss jackie wolff.' ooh, my, yes -- hello, jackie. toby's eyes flare up, then he lowers his head, biting his lip, sniffling a bit.
aw, jesus christ, if you're gonna --
you just don't know what's good, sugar. you're too tense. you just relax and dwight'll take you on a little trip. okay? you'll have a good time. caroline closes her eyes.
 are the prettiest thing i've ever seen. i mean it. you are. the way your hair curls up right there. so pretty. i just love you so much. i don't know what i'd do if you ever left me. i couldn't take it. guy i knew in the navy had a saying: 'if you love her, here's what to do: let her go visit places new. if she loves you, she'll come back to you. if she don't come back.  hunt the bitch down and kill her.' that's awful, i guess. i don't feel that way, but close. my pretty thing.  we see that caroline realizes the enormity of her mistake.
and i know damn well you did.
about some things, yeah. not about this. you're a goddam hog, and i proved it.
i told all three of them to stay away from this candy for twenty- four hours.
i counted them. you hogged down eleven chocolate covered cherries since yesterday afternoon.
so that makes you a hog. i just wanted to establish that fact, and now i have. caroline and skipper enter, carrying throw pillows and materials.
hey. mr. hotshot hog and i've just been establishing some facts, and what we come up with is this: one, he's a pig who gobbles down everybody's candy; two, he lies about it; three, he lays around on his lazy ass day and night reading, reading; and four, he's not getting any ten-dollar gym shoes. that's about what we've come up with so far.
oh, dad! skipper leaves the room. caroline sits down, begins to try various materials as coverings for the pillows.
why don't you ever help me straighten that boy out? caroline doesn't even look up. she threads a needle and begins to sew. whilst dwight paces around the room.
all he does is read or listen to records or sing.
i'm so sick of that shit! and when he isn't singing, he's watching t.v. and don't say you don't 'cause when i come home i always put my hand on top of it to see if it's warm, and it always is. this is the news, kid -- i'm wise to you.
i bet you don't -- big lazy candy hog like you'd rather lay on his ass and read, wouldn't you? let me tell you something: you're gonna deliver those papers if i have to walk behind you with a horsewhip ever' step of the way.
hell, no. i'm putting that in the bank for you for when you really need it -- cuss me now, thank me later.
i, well, no, it's not that -- i just want you to be well-behaved. your rich daddy 'duke' doesn't care anything about you, and so somebody's got to train you, and one of the things you've gotta be trained about is not to be a hog and eat everybody's candy like a -- dwight stops short as caroline says one word.
what's the matter, honey?
jack, i think you've made your mother nervous, so why don't we just go on to scouts and let her rest? you lay down and rest awhile. dwight and toby grab their caps and hotfoot it out the door.
check for the tongue tonight -- you forgot it last week. otherwise you won't get your life-saving badge.
yours.
you said you wanted a dog.
well, he's yours. you paid for him. go get ready for norma's play.
this dog is pure-bred weimaraner. a champion.
well, you're purely out of luck, aren't you, 'cause that rifle's on its way to seattle.
well, want in one hand and shit in the other -- see which gets full first.
and champ's your dog. jesus, i trade some old piece of crap for a valuable hunting dog, and all you can do is piss and moan.
the hell you aren't. you can just make your own deals from now on.
but that dog's a champion! caroline calmly smashes another plate on the countertop.
am i supposed to go clear to seattle just to get.
jesus christ, woman, i don't even know the guy's last name. caroline picks up a bowl.
all right, all right. the guy's supposed to send the a.k.c. papers. when he sends 'em, i'll know his name and address, and i'll go get the god-damn rifle back. jesus. caroline exits leaving dwight, norma, and pearl with their mouths open.
heh hotshot! he looks up just in time to see a flashlight fly through the air toward him. he catches it. dwight stands in the doorway.
if you can tear yourself away from your pedicure, i want you to fetch me some of that paint from the attic. dwight switches the room light off.
is now too soon.
your mother said you were sick. feeling better?
good, good. get some sleep, did you?
must've needed it. a pause:
oh, by the way, you didn't happen to hear a funny pinging noise in the engine, did you?
i was downtown with champ a few minutes ago, and i met a guy who recognized him. said he'd seen my dog this very morning. told me an interesting story of how he and the dog happened to meet. what d'you think about that?
only me. on this whole earth, to straighten you out. and i will do it kill or cure. now get your ass up -- you're going to school.
here i am, you lucky people! toby and caroline exchange a glance. it speaks volumes.
 so the s.o.b. had been on my back for a week at work, okay? sayin' i stole his wrench, an' poured oil all over his tools, as if! anyway, he went just one step too far with old dwight, okay? spat on the floor as i walked by. i turned around and walked back to him, acting so dainty and humble and scared, you know, all innocent -- and the minute he took his eyes off me, blam, i dry gulched him! i shut his water off good! never gave me another second's grief to this very day. there is a pause. one more story. nobody has much of a reaction.
kennedy -- the senator from rome.
i know what he gives you, and it sure as hell isn't hope.
no. too many republicans in this town. they hear my wife's working for the democrats, they'll take their cars someplace else to be fixed. bad idea. no.
what the hell are you doing?
you left the lid off the damn toothpaste again.
this is my bathroom, and i say about the toothpaste, got it? huh? have you? huh? now if you lived with your daddy duke and his rich wife, maybe things'd be different, but he's not here now, is he? oh, duke? duke, are you here? dukie? oh, how sad -- duke's not here. oh, boo hoo! my bathroom. i get to say. got that? still toby doesn't respond -- dwight reaches out and pinches the skin on toby's waist, hard. toby still doesn't respond, when dwight begins to twist it. toby spins around, eyes blazing.
come on. oh, come on. give me an excuse. toby hesitates, then leaves the bathroom, humiliated.
hey, i thought i was helping him -- thought i'd save him some trouble 'cause he's got no chance of getting into some fancy prep school.
what?
ooooooh, oh, i'm so scared. oooh.
yeah, or maybe he'll get a contract in the mail asking him to be a singing star on t.v. well, he's got about as much chance of one as of the other. toby gets up and leaves.
i was trying to listen to a record. dwight rises, walks outside into the back yard. then the telephone rings. pearl answers it, listens, then says,
ohh, it's the hotshot boy. both mr. howard and toby turn to see dwight, wearing his coveralls, ten feet away.
yeah, it's the guy who thinks he knows everything. thinks he's so smart, but fella, what you don't know would fill a book. general motors makes shit cars.
hey, leopard. i say, 'hey, leopard.' i know you, leopard -- i can see those spots you can't change. thinks he can go to some fancy prep school and fool everybody. not a chance. i know a thing or two about a thing or two. toby won't rise to the bait, and dwight falls silent, he, looks around and sees the jar of mustard on top of the trash.
who threw that away?
why?
empty? that look empty to you?
look again, hotshot. is it empty? toby jerks his head away, not answering. dwight slams down the jar of mustard, grabs toby by the back of the hair and forces his face down against the mustard jar.
now. now, mr. big-time prep- school fucker, is it empty? toby struggles, but dwight has the strength of anger: trying always to protect his throbbing finger, toby pulls free and jumps up from the table. dwight is too quick for toby, though: he grabs an even bigger handful of hair and forces toby's face down onto the mustard jar again and again. and again. each time he asks if the jar is empty. finally, toby gives up.
all right -- clean it out. his face smeared with mustard, toby's expression is murderous. he picks up a knife and scrapes at the mus- tard, trying to get up under the neck. he manages to get a few brown and yellow smudges on the knife, which he transfers to the edge of a plate. dwight watches.
now. was it empty? slowly he stands up and faces dwight.
great. go!
that money is gone with the wind. that's right. i spent it as you made it. it's gone. poof. toby starts for dwight again. caroline grabs him, saying, "no. no. no," over and over, literally dragging toby away from dwight. caroline looks at dwight.
oh, fancy, fancy talk -- fancy talk for a whore. i know a thing or two about a thing or two. i got friends in this town that tell me things, and i found out some man down at that campaign headquarters found you a job in washington, d.c. gonna run off with him, aren't you, miss whore?
miss liar. miss whore liar.
what about me?
what about me?
no.
you're not leaving!
 you two've always sided in against me, always thought you were better than me. i tried. i did the best i could. what about me? am i supposed to just crawl off in a ditch someplace and die? i've always been the nigger. everybody's nigger. ever since i was little. caroline and toby are at the door, run across the yard and down the street. dwight stands in the doorway, yelling:
what about me? when is it ever dwight's turn for some consideration? what about me? i'll tell you one thing -- you'll remember me!
	114:
"the lawrence welk show" is on the television. dwight, caroline, skipper, norma and pearl and toby watch an irish tenor sing a lugubrious ballad. dwight stands in a corner of the room, his saxophone to his lips. he's playing along with the music, but silently.