| Aaah, that fuggin MussoliniBut he was confused; his father had always told him Mussolini had brought prosperity, and he had accepted itHe could remember the arguments between his uncles and his fatherThey were so goddam poor they needed a guy who could run things, he told himself nowHe remembered one of his father's cousins who had been a big shot in Rome, and had marched with Mussolini's army in 1922All through his childhood, Minetta had heard tales of those days"All a the young men, the patriotists, they fight with Mussolini in 'twenty-two," his father had told him, and he had dreamed of marching with them too, of being a hero
Everything was mixed upHis mind could see no farther than his eyesHe was hemmed by the dense palpable mesh of the jungle"Aaah, that fuggin Mussolini," he said again, as if to relieve himself
Goldstein was stirring beside him"Come on, it's our turn again
Minetta lurched to his feet"Why the hell don't they give us a decent break? watch replicas cartier Jesus Christ, we just sat down He glared at Ridges, who was shouldering his way along the narrow ragged swath of the trail; nothing was left of his reverie but the resentment and fatigue that had initiated it
"C'mon, M'netta," Ridges called back Without waiting for an answer, he plowed ahead to relieve the crew that had been laboringRidges was angry and perplexedHe had spent the rest period debating whether he would have time to clean his rifle, and he had decided he could never do the job properly in ten minutesThe rifle was wet and muddy, and would rust if he couldn't take care of it soonShoot, Ridges said to himself, a man never has time to do one thing, when they ain't cussin' for him to do somethin' elseHe felt pleasantly spiteful at the stupidity of the Army, and yet guilty tooHe was taking poor care of a valuable piece of property, which bothered his sense of honestyThe gov'ment give me that M-one 'cause they figgered Ah'd watch over it, an' Ah ain't replica miu miu bags doin' itThe rifle must be worth a hundred dollars, Ridges thought, and that was a vast sum to himAh gotta clean it, but what ifen they don't gimme time? It was too much for him to resolveHe sighed, picked up his machete, and began to workIn a few seconds Goldstein had joined him
The platoon reached the end of the jungle after five hours of cutting trailThe jungle was bordered by another stream, and on the other side yellow hills covered only with kunai grass or an occasional grove of shrubbery rolled away toward the northThe sunlight was brilliant, reflected with an incredible glare from all the bare hills and the clear blazing arch of the skyThe men, accustomed to the gloom of the jungle, blinked their eyes, were uncertain, a little afraid of the vast open spaces before themIt was all so bare, so painful
All that space!
The Time Machine:
JOEY GOLDSTEIN
THE COVE OF BROOKLYN
A sturdy man about twenty-seven, perhaps, with blond straight hair and cheap fake louis vuitton bags eager blue eyesHis nose is sharp, and there are deep sad lines which extend from his nose to the corners of his mouthIf it were not for this, he would look very youngHis speech is quick and sincere and a little breathless as if afraid he will not be permitted to finish
The candy store is small and dirty as are all the stores on the cobblestoned streetWhen it drizzles the cobblestones wash bare and gleaming on top, and the manhole covers puff forth their shapeless gouts of mistThe night fogs cloak the muggings, the gangs who wander raucously through the darkness, the prostitutes, and the lovers mating in the dark bedrooms with the sweating stained wallpaper of brownThe walls of the street fester in summer, are clammy in winter; there is an aged odor in this part of the city, a compact of food scraps, of shredded dung balls in the cracks of the cobblestones, of tar, smoke, the sour damp scent of city people, and the smell of coal stoves and gas stoves in the gucci g watch cold-water flatsAll of them blend and lose identity
In the daytime, the peddlers stand at the curb and hawk their fruit and vegetablesMiddle-aged women in black shapeless coats pluck at the food with shrewd grudging fingers, probing it to the marrowCautiously, the women step out from the sidewalk to avoid the water in the gutters, stare with temptation at the fish heads that the owner of the fish store has just cast into the streetThe blood gives a sheen to the cobblestone at first, fades, becomes pink, and then is lost in the sewer waterOnly the smell of fish remains together with the dung balls, the tar, the rich uncertain odors of the smoked meats in the delicatessen windows
The candy store is at the end of the street, a tiny place with grease in the ledges of the window, and rust replacing the paintThe front window slides open doubtfully to make a counter where people can buy things from the street, but the window is cracked and dust settles on the designer louis vuitton denim bags knock offs candy |