End As a Man
End As a Man
Calder Willingham
$0.35
Excerpt
“I’m getting tired of this now,” said McKee. “In a moment I’m going to call Sarah Ann and have her ask you out of the house.”
“How would you like it if I came over there and gave your neck a good twist?”
“Just a moment,” said McKee. “Listen, please, to just a little hot air. What right you have to this scene, I do not know. I believe you came here of your own free will? And uninvited, at that. As I remember you entered this room with not so much as a knock at the door. And no sooner had you laid your undefiled eyes upon me than you simpered. Yes, you simpered, grinned, and coaxed me to read to you from my private journal. And then you throw this stupid, boring abuse on me.
“What are you trying to do? May I ask that? You certainly must have realized early in the evening, if indeed you didn’t know it all the time, that I am that dismal, depraved, unhealthy, and all-the-rest-of-it thing—a practicing homosexual. And not a repressed one, like yourself, I may add.”
Marquales was speechless with indignation.
“Now I am older than you, and not merely in years. There is a great deal that I understand that is beyond you. For although you seem intelligent you are young. You are inexperienced. Do you actually know anything about the women you think so highly of? I dare say you’ve never seen a nude female—as for me, I had experiences at the age of ten that would rot your little prostate. What I could tell you about the fair sex, you pathetic, trapped fool! But I’m afraid I haven’t the time and energy to try to set you right about many things that confuse you now. You see, I broke my leg just the other day and had a severe heart attack at that time. Therefore I think you’d better leave, now.”
“Are you finished?” said Marquales.
“Let’s not have any silly rhetorical questions, you insolent clown—just get up and leave.”
“I’m not sitting down,” said Marquales. “Your tongue seems to be flapping. Now listen, I came up here to tell you one thing, and I will hereby tell you, if you don’t mind.”
McKee waited, an impatient smile on his face. “I’ve read that filthy letter,” said the freshman.
“What letter is that?” asked McKee nervously. “That disgusting thing you wrote Jocko.”
McKee paled, turning his head to one side. He kept his gray eyes on Marquales.
“Now let’s see if you’ll laugh,” said the freshman. “Jocko also read it, and he’s coming after you!”
McKee’s face turned milky white. He slipped down into the bed, sliding from the pillows. The wires holding his leg gave a squeak as the cast was elevated a few inches.
“Jocko’s read it!” repeated Marquales, leaning forward. The smile on McKee’s face had changed to a paralyzed grin. Nearly every tooth in his head was visible and his eyes were shining with fear—his head lay twisted to one side which made him stare at Marquales from an angle.
“You’d better cringe,” said the freshman in a cruel voice.
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