Bradbury, Ray - Chapbook 18 Read Free Page A

calcium or other bone-fortifying minerals. I’ll
eat for one of us, not both, my lad.
                 ‘One hundred and fifty pounds,’ he
said the following week to his wife. ‘Do you see how I’ve changed?’
                 ‘For the better,’ said Clarisse. ‘You
were always a little plump for your height, darling.’ She stroked his chin. ‘I
like your face. It’s so much nicer; the lines of it are so firm and strong
now.’
                 ‘They’re not my lines, they’re
his, damn him! You mean to say you like him better than you like me?’
                 ‘Him? Who’s
“ him ”?’
                 In the parlor mirror, beyond
Clarisse, his skull smiled back at him behind his fleshy grimace of hatred and
despair.
                 Fuming, he popped malt tablets into
his mouth. This was one way of gaining weight when you couldn’t keep other
foods down. Clarisse noticed the malt pellets.
                 ‘But, darling, really, you don’t have
to regain the weight for me,’ she said.
                 Oh, shut up! he felt like saying.
                 She made him lie with his head in her
lap. ‘Darling,’ she said. ‘I’ve watched you lately. You’re so—badly off. You
don’t say anything, but you look—hunted. You toss in bed at night. Maybe you
should go to a psychiatrist. But I think I can tell you everything he would
say. I’ve put it all together from hints you’ve let escape you. I can tell you
that you and your skeleton are one and the same, one nation, indivisible, with
liberty and justice for all. United you stand, divided you fall. If you two
fellows can’t get along like an old married couple in the future, go back and
see Dr Burleigh. But, first, relax. You’re in a vicious circle; the more you
worry, the more your bones stick out, the more you worry. After all, who picked
this fight—you or that anonymous entity you claim is lurking around behind your
alimentary canal?’
                 He closed his eyes. ‘I did. I guess I
did. Go on. Clarisse, keep talking.’
                 ‘You rest now,’ she said softly.
‘Rest and forget.’
                 Mr Harris
felt buoyed up for half a day, then he began to sag. It was all very well to
blame his imagination, but this particular skeleton, by God, was fighting back.
                 Harris set out for M. Munigant’s office late in the day. Walking for half an hour
until he found the address, he caught sight of the name M. MUNI-GANT initialed
in ancient, flaking gold on a glass plate outside the building. Then, his bones
seemed to explode from their moorings, blasted and erupted with pain, Blinded,
he staggered away. When he opened his eyes again he had rounded a corner. M. Munigant’s office was out of sight.
                 The pains ceased.
                 M. Munigant was the man to help him. If the sight of his name would cause so titanic a
reaction, of course M. Munigant must be just
the man.
                 But, not today. Each time he tried to return to that office, the terrible pains look hold.
Perspiring, he had to give up and swayed into a cocktail bar.
                 Moving across the dim lounge, he
wondered briefly if a lot of blame couldn’t be put on M. Munigant’s shoulders. After all, it was Munigant who’d first
drawn specific attention to his skeleton, and let the psychological impact of
it slam home! Could M. Munigant be using him for some
nefarious purpose? But what purpose? Silly to suspect him. Just a little doctor. Trying to be
helpful. Munigant and his jar of breadsticks. Ridiculous. M. Munigant was okay, okay…
                 There was a sight within the cocktail
lounge to give him hope. A large, fat man, round as a
butterball, stood drinking consecutive beers at the bar. Now there was a successful man. Harris repressed a desire to go