Sacred Misfits

Visiting Tennessee

44 Visiting Tennessee k Just before noon on Monday, Paul Dankin kicked off his comforter and stretched his six-foot-three body over his six-foot cot, yawning. He instinctively clicked on the tiny clock radio. Thick fingers clumsily spun the selector dial. It angered Paul that no matter how hard he tried he could not gracefully blend one program into another. His spin of the dial ripped into many stations, creating a garbled static that he hated. After many seconds of fighting with the dial a clear voice spoke to Paul. He withdrew his hand and placed it under his pillow, smiling. The smile turned to a frown when the staccato bursts of a typewriter indicated that it was one of those twenty-four hour news programs and not a talk show. Paul pulled his hand from under the pillow and was about to attempt another station change, but thought better of it and instead placed his hand on his stomach, kneading a loose roll of flesh. The newsman finished the last sentence of a story concerning laboratory animals and was recapping the headlines while Paul’s fingers crept down his stomach, playfully slapping at his penis. “Meanwhile, here in New York, the body of Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Tennessee Williams is attracting hundreds of friends and admirers. Williams, noted for his plays The Glass Menagerie and A Streetcar Named Desire, died here late Thursday night of asphyxiation. An autopsy revealed that the playwright had a swallowed a bottle cap. Williams’body will be at Campbell Funeral Home at 81st and Madison Avenue until Tuesday. Hours are ten a.m. till eight p.m. Internment is scheduled for Saturday in St. Louis.” “Yeah, that was a great movie,” said Paul Dankin as he cracked his knuckles. “Brando was great.” He clicked off the radio. “Tennessee Williams. I just seen that name somewhere.” Paul lay in bed trying to remember where he had seen the name. His hand automatically returned to his penis. The playful slaps soon 45 gave way to a more determined motion. Aroused, his erection pointed him towards a plastic milk crate full of magazines. Dropping the Newsweek and People magazines back into the crate, he returned to the cot with an issue of Puritan. It was not a current issue, but it was his favorite porno magazine. Thumbing through colorful clasps of male and female genitalia spitting at and swallowing each other, Paul emptied himself. “That’s how you spell relief,” he grinned, “P-U-R-I-T-A-N. No wonder those pilgrims gave thanks.” His laughter ricocheted off the walls of his efficiency apartment; the echo made him nervous. He flipped through the magazine a second time. Its images bored him. Halfway through the issue, a full page photo of a bearded, roundfaced man in a large hat smile up at him. Paul stuck his finger on the page to save his place. The article accompanying the picture was an interview with Tennessee Williams. “Tennessee Williams! Christ, I knew I seen you somewhere. You’re all right Tennessee. No . . . no you’re not. You’re dead. Choked. Brando’ll probably cry. I wonder if he remembers me?” Paul threw down the magazine,walked over to the door and slowly opened it. He darted his head into the hallway and lunged for the day old Sunday News lying on his neighbor’s welcome mat. He quickly bolted the door. Paul opened to the obituaries. His forefinger turned black as it slid down a column of names under Death Notices. “Watson,Wilhelm,William,B.,Williams,M.,Williams,T.That’s it! 1076 Madison. Till eight. Great!” Paul stepped into the shower. As he lathered up the shampoo his thoughts turned to his finances. He knew that Tuesday was the first and that his check would be in the mail, but the only cash he had was in coins. He needed a dollar-fifty for a round trip bus ride. Wrapped in a towel, Paul grabbed at the coat flung over a kitchen chair and shook it over the cot. The clinking of coins on the sheet made Paul smile.There was a good deal more than a dollar fifty splattered across the cot. The smile still felt strange.In the six years since Pooh Bear Lennox down the hall knocked out three of Paul’s teeth, Paul seldom smiled. Pooh Bear Lennox, who was half Paul’s size, claimed that Paul rubbed up against his girlfriend...