Pastoralia Read Free

which would be good for you, you could sneak right in there.”
    Marty gives me a little wave, then resumes shrieking.
    “I don’t want to put the pressure on, son,” he says. “I know you got enough pressure, with school being so hard and all, and you even having to make your own book covers because of our money crunch, so I don’t want to put on extra pressure by saying that the family honor is at stake, but guess what pal, it is! You’re it, kid! You’re as good as we got. Think of it, me and your mother, and Paw-Paw and Mee-Maw, and Great Paw-Paw, who came over here from wherever he was before, in some kind of boat, and fixed shoes all his life in a shack or whatever? Remember that? Why’d he do that? So you could eventually be born! Think of that! All those years of laundry and stuffing their faces and plodding to the market and making love and pushing out the babies and so on, and what’s the upshot? You, pal, you’re the freaking upshot. And now there you are, in boarding school, what a privilege, the first one of us to do it, so all’s I’m saying is, do your best and don’t take no shit from nobody, unless taking shit from them is part of your master plan to get the best of them by tricking them into being your friend. Just always remember who you are, son, you’re a Kusacki, my only son, and I love you. Ack, I’m getting mushy here.”
    “You’re doing great,” says the lady.
    “So much to say,” he says.
    “And Jeannine sends her love too,” says the lady.
    “And Jeannine sends her love too,” he says. “For crissake’s sake, Jeannine, write it down if you want to say it. I don’t have to say it for you to write it. Just write it. You’re my wife.”
    “I’m not your wife,” says Jeannine.
    “You are to me,” says Marty, and she sort of leans into him and he takes another slug of the Squirt.
    I buy Janet some smokes and mints and me a Kayo.
    I really like Kayo.
    “Hey, you hear about Dave Wolley?” Marty says to me. “Dave Wolley from Wise Mountain Hermit? You know him? You know Dave?”
    I know Dave very well. Dave was part of the group that used to meet for the barbecues at Russian Peasant Farm.
    “Well, wave bye-bye to Dave,” Marty says. “Wise Mountain Hermit is kaput. Dave is kaput.”
    “I’ve never seen Dave so upset,” says Jeannine.
    “He was very freaking upset,” says Marty. “Who wouldn’t be? He was superdedicated.”
    Dave was superdedicated. He grew his own beard long instead of wearing a fake and even when on vacation went around barefoot to make his feet look more like the feet of an actual mountain ascetic.
    “The problem is, Wise Mountain Hermit was too far off the beaten path,” Marty says. “Like all you Remotes. All you Remotes, you’re too far off the beaten path. Think about it. These days we got very few Guests to begin with, which means we got even fewer Guests willing to walk way the hell up here to see you Remotes. Right? Am I right?”
    “You are absolutely right,” says Jeannine.
    “I am absolutely right,” says Marty. “Although I am not happy about being absolutely right, because if you think of it, if you Remotes go kaput, where am I? It’s you RemotesI’m servicing. See? Right? Give him his mints. Make change for the poor guy. He’s got to get back to work.”
    “Have a good one,” says Jeannine, and makes my change.
    It’s sad about Dave. Also it’s worrisome. Because Wise Mountain Hermit was no more Remote than we are, plus it was much more popular, because Dave was so good at dispensing ad-libbed sage advice.
    I walk down the path to the Refuse Center and weigh our Human Refuse. I put the paperwork and the fee in the box labeled Paperwork and Fees. I toss the trash in the dumpster labeled Trash, and the Human Refuse in the dumpster labeled Caution Human Refuse, then sit against a tree and drink my Kayo.
    8.
    Next morning in the Big Slot is a goat and in the Little Slot a rabbit and a note addressed to