It flowed into his mouth He swallowed the liquid. He coughed. The liquid spilled over his undershirt. The undershirt was threadbare. It was yellowed like the old man and in places it bore holes. He sat the Mason jar back on the porch. It landed with a thud. He placed his hands on his lap and he faced the sun. His eyes closed. The empty neighborhood belonged to the old man and the old tom and the buzz of the warm electric wires. Silence surrounded the old man. The smell of many gardens filled his nose. He smiled. He rocked. He heard gravel crunching. He heard a whirl. He guessed a bicycle. He stopped rocking. He waited and he listened for the whirl of the wheels to pass, but he heard a skid. He heard the crash of the bicycle landing against the earth. Footsteps landed on his steps. He heard them."Go away," the old man said."I will not go away," a girl's voice said. "I came here to talk with you."He opened his eyes. She looked down at him. The sun had burned her to a deep brown and. He did not acknowledge it, but, at first, kept his eyes on the Straight Man.She allowed the applause to swell until, at just the right time, her voice filled the whole room, “Silence”! The crowd calmed down, with only the sound of some quiet crying, and rustle of frantically whispering voices, some perplexed, some comforting, until total silence reigned again, the Blonde Man walked, in his spotlight, toward the Straight Man with a confident stride, until their spotlights merged. Six inches in front of the Straight Man, who kneeled with his eyes lowered, the Blonde Haired Man stopped and waited, with a confident air and looked up into the crowd, smiling beneath his moustache, all white teeth and dimples, occasionally waving, and pointing.“Straight Man, do you know why you are here?”He cried out, “No, what have I done?”Her whip broke the air again, a spotlight flashed on her each time she cracked her whip, and the Straight Man wailed again, “What have I done?”“You lie, you know why.
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