- cid
- bafkreig5euxg4dmdh4pqsr6daadzl6hlovtjlg4fco3tsh5nhtdiobxkle
- content_type
- image/jpeg
- filename
- Rye_page_0045.jpg
- height
- 2400
- key
- pdf-page-1769744163153-8rfcj4ot739
- page_number
- 45
- pdf_type
- born_digital
- size
- 719677
- text
- "What's different about it? Nothin's different about it," Horwitz said. Everything
he said, he sounded sore about something. "It's tougher for the fish, the winter and all,
than it is for the ducks, for Chrissake. Use your head, for Chrissake."
I didn't say anything for about a minute. Then I said, "All right. What do they do,
the fish and all, when that whole little lake's a solid block of ice, people skating on it and
all?"
Old Horwitz turned around again. "What the hellaya mean what do they do?" he
yelled at me. "They stay right where they are, for Chrissake."
"They can't just ignore the ice. They can't just ignore it."
"Who's ignoring it? Nobody's ignoring it!" Horwitz said. He got so damn excited
and all, I was afraid he was going to drive the cab right into a lamppost or something.
"They live right in the goddam ice. It's their nature, for Chrissake. They get frozen right
in one position for the whole winter."
"Yeah? What do they eat, then? I mean if they're frozen solid, they can't swim
around looking for food and all."
"Their bodies, for Chrissake--what'sa matter with ya? Their bodies take in
nutrition and all, right through the goddam seaweed and crap that's in the ice. They got
their pores open the whole time. That's their nature, for Chrissake. See what I mean?" He
turned way the hell around again to look at me.
"Oh," I said. I let it drop. I was afraid he was going to crack the damn taxi up or
something. Besides, he was such a touchy guy, it wasn't any pleasure discussing anything
with him. "Would you care to stop off and have a drink with me somewhere?" I said.
He didn't answer me, though. I guess he was still thinking. I asked him again,
though. He was a pretty good guy. Quite amusing and all.
"I ain't got no time for no liquor, bud," he said. "How the hell old are you,
anyways? Why ain'tcha home in bed?"
"I'm not tired."
When I got out in front of Ernie's and paid the fare, old Horwitz brought up the
fish again. He certainly had it on his mind. "Listen," he said. "If you was a fish, Mother
Nature'd take care of you, wouldn't she? Right? You don't think them fish just die when it
gets to be winter, do ya?"
"No, but--"
"You're goddam right they don't," Horwitz said, and drove off like a bat out of
hell. He was about the touchiest guy I ever met. Everything you said made him sore.
Even though it was so late, old Ernie's was jampacked. Mostly with prep school
jerks and college jerks. Almost every damn school in the world gets out earlier for
Christmas vacation than the schools I go to. You could hardly check your coat, it was so
crowded. It was pretty quiet, though, because Ernie was playing the piano. It was
supposed to be something holy, for God's sake, when he sat down at the piano. Nobody's
that good. About three couples, besides me, were waiting for tables, and they were all
shoving and standing on tiptoes to get a look at old Ernie while he played. He had a big
damn mirror in front of the piano, with this big spotlight on him, so that everybody could
watch his face while he played. You couldn't see his fingers while he played--just his big
old face. Big deal. I'm not too sure what the name of the song was that he was playing
when I came in, but whatever it was, he was really stinking it up. He was putting all these
dumb, show-offy ripples in the high notes, and a lot of other very tricky stuff that gives
- text_extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T03:36:03.153Z
- text_extracted_by
- pdf-processor
- text_has_content
- true
- text_source
- born_digital
- uploaded
- true
- width
- 1855