Drew Gummerson

Wagga West

The banana factory had been opened in 69. It was seen as quite a catch for Alphaville. "A positive investment for a new age," the mayor had said on his podium and all the town had cheered. Even the whores. They didn't care particularly about bananas. But they did care about people. And where there were large numbers of bananas, there were people. That stood to reason.

It went like this. The bananas were brought on the boats from Africa. The bananas were taken to the factory. Each bunch was individually washed and on each banana a sticker was placed. "Produce of America," it said.

After all that was how the President had got in. "America is America is America," he had said and the words had stuck. No man was an island, but America was or wanted to be. We didn't need nobody else. No sir.

Oh.

Except the slaves.

After all, to make America great needed a lot of hands. And that was where Houdini came in. Houdini was a slave. That wasn't his official title. He was referred to as a employment agency employee. That was the parlance of the day. But he was a slave. That was a fact.

He wanted more and I wanted to give it to him. But first I had to get him out of the banana factory. I had a plan.

It was a Wednesday.

"I have an appointment with Mr Sham," I said. "Mr Irwin Sham."

The guard at the gate narrowed his eyes and spat on the floor. He looked like he didn't give a damn.

"Mr Sham is expecting me," I said.

"We gotta lot a guys working here," said the guard. "Which department?"

"Shipping," I said.

The guard's hand hovered suddenly above his belt. In the belt was slung a large revolver. A revolving cylinder and a metal tube. "We ain't got no shipping department," he said.

It was midday. The sun was above us. I could feel its rays on the back of my neck, the seat of my pants.

"All the bananas then," I said, "where do they go?"

The guard didn't even pause. "They're loaded onto wagons," he said. He spoke as if this was obvious to all. To him it must have been old news. "They're loaded onto wagons and then they go. But no ships."

"That's what I meant," I said. "That's what Mr Sham does. Shipping was just a figure of speech."

The guard took a match and lit it on the side of his boot. The head ignited in a tiny explosion. I knew what the guard wanted to say. That was a figure of speech too.

"Mr Sham is a man of some influence," I said. "When he hears that I have been delayed there will be trouble." I stopped and paused significantly. "And the trouble won't be mine."

"This Sham," said the guard, "never heard of him."

"He's a big cheese from the Big Apple. Recently arrived."

"Like you," said the guard.

"Quite," I said. "You got it. Now if you please, I want to see Sham. I believe he's waiting for me. By the wagons."

The guard spat on the floor again and tightened his belt. "OK pardner," he said. "Wait here. I'll go see."

With his two footed gait he sauntered off towards the reception block.

And that was our chance. With the guard gone Houdini slipped right out of the door.

"We did it man," said Houdini.

"It was quite an escape," I said. I thought back over the details. The guard going off, Houdini coming out. It all seemed simple now.

"You think I could make a career out of it?" said Houdini. He skipped to the left and hid behind a tree. Then he skipped from the other side of the tree. "Now you see me, now you don't." He was being quite giddy.

"Well I don't know about that," I said. "I think people would pay to see a black man disappear. But the reappearance would probably make them ask for a refund. You would frighten the Southern Belles. They would imagine all sorts of atrocities. Black men appearing in their closets, out of the butter dish and so on."

"You got a point," said Houdini. "Anyways, now I'm not sticking labels on bananas what am I gonna do?"

"You're working for me."

"In this here town?" said Houdini. "I don't know. They'll be looking for me. Shouldn't I try and get away? Build a raft or something."

"I've thought about that," I said, "but I don't think running away is the answer. We have to face up to our demons or things will never change."

"OK," said Houdini. "But will there be fooking?"

"Oh yes," I said. "Plenty of fooking."

"Cool," said Houdini. "Because I do like the fooking. Where there's fooking involved I make no discrimination."

"What did I say about positive discrimination?" I said.

"You said you liked all kinds of discrimination."

"That's right," I said. "And I'm a man of my word."

"Cool," said Houdini. He stopped and plucked up a blade of grass. He put it between his lips and smiled. "So where's we going now, Jesse?"

"Back to the shop."

"Shop?" said Houdini.

And as we walked I told Houdini all about the shop, the sex shop I was opening in Alphaville. For the first time it seemed real. Nothing, I realised, is real until you verbalise it. Things trapped inside just might as well not be.

Freedom.

"Wake up Houdini."

Houdini half opened his eyes and held on with both hands to the top of his bedspread. He looked like a man attempting to climb over a wall. Lying down.

"Christ man," he said. "It's the crack of dawn."

"No," I said. "That's the crack of my ass."

"What?" said Houdini. "What?" Then he got it. "Damn it Jesse," he shouted. "You're butt naked."

"It's my house," I said. "And I'm going to use it."

"But naked," said Houdini. "What time is it?"

"It's the crack of dawn," I said.

"You speaking out your ass now Jesse? Is it dawn or not?"

"Yes," I said.

"So what'm I doing up? You gonna send me back to those bananas?"

"Get up Houdini," I said. "Your banana days are behind you."

"But not my getting up at the crack of dawn days."

"I told you," I said. "It's my crack, not Dawn's."

"You got a woman here," said Houdini. "That's outrageous."

"There's no woman here. Can't stand their jugs."

"Me neither," said Houdini. "Hehehe. Me neither."

"GET UP!" I said. I was wondering how long this conversation would go on. "GET UP!"

I was loud.

Then.

Houdini got up. So we was both up and both naked. Houdini took a walk across the floor and opened up the curtains. Outside it was still dark. "You's lying to me man," he said. "It's not even dawn. It's earlier. I didn't know there was an earlier than dawn."

"We got work to do Houdini. Now put some clothes on."

"You know Jesse," said Houdini, taking a peek at me with those eyes of his, "you're pretty big down there for a white man."

"Don't start with all that black white nonsense," I said. "It's too early in the day."

"It ain't nonsense," said Houdini. "We got bigger cocks than you and leaner bodies. Cept you. You ain't so bad. I bet you've even got natural rhythm."

"You wanna do some fooking?" I said, swaying my hips.

"LOL at Jesse," said Houdini. "LOL."

"What?" I said. "What?"

"I love you too much to fook with you," said Houdini and he grabbed my head in a neck lock and spun me around the room.

"So you's gonna tell me what we's adoing out here in the middle of the cotton picking desert," said Houdini.

"I told you," I said. "We're waiting."

"I could have done some waiting in my own bed," said Houdini. "That's the kind of waiting I like. Sound asleep waiting. I sure am good at waiting with my eyes closed. I'm even better at that than I am at wagga wagga wagga."

"Shut up," I said. "I hear something."

"I don't hear nothing," said Houdini.

"Put your ear to the ground."

"Hey," said Houdini, "I ain't no injun. I ain't putting no ear to no ground."

"Injun," I said. "What you got against injuns?"

"Don't know," said Houdini. "Just don't like them. Anyways, you heard the stories. They scalp you. They take you to their camps and put you in big pots and put logs under you and set fire to the logs and then they eat you. I read King Solomon's Mines."

"I don't think that was injuns," I said. "You're thinking Pocohontus."

"I'll give you Pocohontus," said Houdini. "She was just a whore. Deserved all she got. That and more. All her kind. Their yellow skin."

"So you don't like yellow skin?"

Houdini laughed. "Yellow skin. Now you mention it I think I do. Do you know where I can get me some."

"I think it's nice," I said. "It has a nice tone. Especially against fresh buckskin."

"Ye gads," said Houdini. "Now you're making me horny."

"EXCUSE ME BOYS!"

We both stopped talking and we both turned around. Behind us was a fat man on a stage coach. The stagecoach had wheels, wooden windows, the lot. The man had a huge belly and a sweaty lip. The horse was breathing hard. I knew how he felt. I'd pulled a few fat men in my time. But that was the past. Things were different now.

"You from ACME deliveries?" I asked.

The man sucked in some of the morning air and the world tightened its belt. "Maybe I am and maybe I ain't," he said. "Depends on who wants to know."

"I want to know," I said.

"And who are you?" said the fat man.

He looked like he was going to breath again and I didn't think the world could stand it so I got in fast. "I'm Jesse James," I said.

"Well then," said the fat man and he scratched his head, "maybe I am. But they never told me about no niggers."

"What?" I said.

"What?" said Houdini.

"Niggers," said the fat man from the ACME deliveries. "You heard. You must have seen the TV spots." The fat man fixed a smile on his face and rotated his hands. He started to sing. "ACME. ACME. We deliver all over the West. ACME ACME we deliver the best. Our workers are fastest. Our deliveries are bestest. In the Westest. (Niggers need not apply.)" He stopped singing. "You haven't seen them?"

"No," I said.

"No," said Houdini.

"Houdini," I said. "I got a plan."

"Me too," said Houdini.

We spoke quietly for a few moments and found we had the same plan. We put it into action. We jumped up on the wagon. The fat man never knew what hit him. I punched him in the gut then Houdini sliced him across the jaw. I gave him a kick to the head and he went down off the wagon.

After that it was easy. I pulled off his jeans and Houdini painted a very pretty horse on the fat man's behind. Then we secured him to a cactus. We released the horse from the wagon. And we let nature take his course. We let the horse take his man.

"Anyways," said Houdini shouting loudly above the man's laments, "just what are we doing here in the desert."

"We was waiting for the delivery," I said.

"Oh," said Houdini. "What delivery?"

"God," I said. "You're a dumb donkey." And I pointed to all the boxes on the wagon. "That delivery. It's the stock for the shop. We're opening tomorrow."

"Cool," said Houdini. "But one thing."

"Yes?" I said.

"When am I gunna get my fooking?"

"Soon," I said. "Patience. It's a virtue."

"Thought it was a card game," said Houdini.

"No," I said, "that's poker."

"So it is," said Houdini. "Fancy a game?"

"Sure," I said.

So we did. We played poker while the horse fucked the delivery man. It wasn't a typical morning because I was happy. I was with Houdini and I wasn't a bum.

Not this time. Not me.

I watched Houdini at work. He had taken his shirt off and he was bending and stretching, putting things on shelves. He looked back over his shoulder every now and then and smiled at me. He had told me to sit down. He had said he had an eye for display and he was right. The display looked good.

I was thinking it was better than my last job. For two years I had worked the whorehouse. I'd done everything. Swept the floors. Made the beds. Sewed the whore's knickers when they got ripped. If it needed doing, I did it. I even made condoms out of pigs' bladders. But now I was out of that. I was my own boss.

"What you thinking boss?" said Houdini.

"Don't be calling me boss," I said. "I ain't no boss."

"OK boss," said Houdini.

"No," I said. "I mean honestly. We're equals. A collective. All for one and one for all."

"Sounds like liberal humanist horseshit to me," said Houdini. "In my experience it's the liberals who live in the biggest houses."

"I don't live in a big house," I said.

"Now that a fact," said Houdini. "Just how big is your house?"

"No idea," I said.

"I got a tape measure," said Houdini.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Last one up's a big fat spider," said Houdini.

And together we raced up the stairs to the flat above the shop. I measured my room and Houdini measured his and then we measured the kitchen and dining-room together. It came out to 70 square feet.

"So how liberal does that make me?" I said.

"Not sure," said Houdini. "What's your stance on votes for women?"

"One woman one vote."

"Abortion?"

"Personal choice."

"Gays in the military?"

"The more the merrier."

"President of the United States?"

"Shoot him dead. He's a bastard. Anyone who sits in a big house and orders wars needs to be killed."

"That's not very liberal," said Houdini.

"Phew," I said. "I was worried for a minute there."

"Let's drink to that," said Houdini.

So we did. I went to the fridge and opened it up and took us out a beer. We drank it. Then we had another. And another. And another.

"Jesse?" burped Houdini.

"Yes?" I burped.

"I want to thank you rescuing me," burped Houdini.

"That's OK," I burped.

"No," burped Houdini. "Honestly."

"OK," I burped. "Honestly. It's OK. I like you."

"Thank you," burped Houdini. "I like you too."

Then we had another beer.

"You think the shop'll be OK?" I said.

"Not sure," said Houdini. "I like the idea, but a sex shop in Alphaville." Houdini shook his head. "I don't know."

"The people in Alphaville have sex, don't they?"

"Um," said Houdini. "Not sure about that."

I wasn't sure either.

We were a Negro and a sodomist opening a sex shop in a newly Puritan town. I believed that at that time it was just what America needed.

Some things never change.