Requiem for a Dream Read Free Page B

drivin a big ass pink mutha fuckin El Dorado.
Yeah, and I'll get a chaufers uniform and drive your black ass all
over town. An you better hold that mutha fuckin door jim or I'll burn
your ass. . . . O yeah, mah names Tyrone C. Love and I loves nobody
but Tyrone C. Well, it ain't no Tyrone C. Im gonta love. Im gonta get
me a fine pad by Central Park man and just spend my time sniffin all
that fine quiff walkin by. Sheeit . . . what you gonna do with that
man. You done doogied out your dong. Im just gonta lay down beside it
and pet it man and maybe just sort of nibble on it once in a while.
Damn. Now aint this a muthafuckin shame. This dudes gonna lay up in
some fine pad with some fine fox and hes gonna go stickin his nose in
that nasty thang. So what do you want from me, I like to knosh. A
little chopped liver, a little smoked fish, a— Gawddamn, but you a
nasty mutha fucka. Thas the trouble with you ofays man, you dont know
what to do with a fox. Shit man, we know what to do. Its you fuckin
Africans who dont have any table manners . . . why do ya think the
Jewish guys get all the broads? It aint got nothing ta do with money.
Its because we're knoshers. Sheeit, you just a missin dick fool man.
Afta ah has mah tailor measure me for a few more suits ahm goin back
to the pad and have me a stable of foxes jim that make your knees
buckle. Ah mean theys gonna be real fine. An Im gonna have a
different color for everyday in the week. How long ya figure itll
take us before we can go for a pound of pure? Sheeit man. That aint
nothin. We get out there an hustle up a couple a yards for a piece an
we on our way. By Christmas we be sittin back countin those bucks and
talkin that trash. Merry Christmas man. Harrys cigarette burned his
fingers, Shit, and he dropped it, son of a bitch.
    Two young kids from the neighborhood went to the hock
shop with Sara. Mr. Rabinowitz shuffled around the counter, Good
evening Mrs. Goldfarb. Good evening Mr. Rabinowitz, though I'm not so
sure how good it is. And you? Uh, he half closed his eyes, hunched
his shoulders and tilted his head, so vat could I say? Im alone in
the store all day and mine wife is shopping mit our daughter Rachel
for little Izzy something and still not home yet. For lunch Im having
cold tongue, mit out da rye. . . . Im having some mustard and
harseradish, but mit out da rye already, oi . . . he shrugged, tilted
and peered again, but for supper maybe Im having cold soup if she
still not home, are you vanting your TV? How old is little Izzy now?
O, hes so cute I could just take hunks and bits out of those chubby
little legs. Yes, if you dont mind. I have these nice young boys to
push it home for me—such nice boys to help a poor mother—thank
God he took the stand too so it makes it easier to get back. I only
have three dollars now but next week I'm— So take it, take,
shrugging and tilting his head, and veal hope he doesnt take it again
before you pay for this time, not like the time he stole already the
set three times in vun month and it vas how long before youre paying
it off? Izzy is being a whole year next week, Tuesday. Oooo, Sara
sighed long and deep, it seems like only yesterday Rachel was playing
dolls and now . . . Sara gave the three dollars, that had been folded
and carefully tucked in the corner of her blouse, to Mr. Rabino-witz,
and he shuffled behind the counter and put it in his cash register
and carefully made an entry in a small book with the title, SARA
GOLDFARB'S TV, on the cover. There were endless pages of entries and
dates, covering the last few years, of money given Harry for the set
and the payments his mother made after redeeming it. The two kids had
started pushing the set, and the table, out to the street. Mrs.
Goldfarb, can I ask of you a question, you vont be taking git
personal? Sara shrugged, How many years we know each other? He nodded
his head up and down up and down up and down, Whos to count? Vy dont
you tell already the police so maybe they could