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Show Ferguson Lives Butch and Fenn Stories 21 That stuns him and he crouches, listening to the ceiling. For my sake there are a few creaks, his brother up there beating up his sister probably, and the mood is broken and Butch sets the handlebars on the floor. I grab Fenn, who jumps when I touch him, but he sits back down and I hand him his comic. He throws it on the floor. "Shit!" he says. "Things are getting strange around here." "Say you're sorry," I tell Butch. He comes over, trying to place his shirt back together. There are no more buttons. "Say it." He takes the shirt off and throws it up so it sticks in the pipes, and he puts on his old brown corduroy robe, his lab coat. "Sorry, Fenn," he says looking down to cinch the sash. "Yeah, oh yeah. Sorry. Sorry- Things are strange." Fenn says to me: "Crazy about the goddamned alligator." Butch turns to Fenn again, but I've turned him back, and we look at Ferguson together. "Beat up Budd!" Fenn says. "Punch out your goddamned father. He killed the little bastard. I liked Ferguson!" Butch lifts the open violin case like a tray and Ferguson's belly flashes up at us, the only white thing in this world. "He's dead, Butch," I say, watching my friend. "It's okay. He's dead." |
