sk.everythingseventual-第65部分

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　also　looked　furious。　I　suddenly　realized　two　things：　that　he　was　drunk；　quite　drunk；　in　fact；　and　that　he　saw　this　as　a　smirch　on　both　his　hospitality　and　his　petence。　He　had　chosen　the　restaurant；　after　all；　and　now　look…the　master　of　ceremonies　had　gone　bonkers。
　　'Eeeeee！　。　。　。　I　teach　you！　For　the　last　time　I　teach　you　。　。　。'
　　'Oh　my　God；　he's　wet　his　pants；'　a　woman　at　a　nearby　table　murmured。　Her　voice　was　low　but　perfectly　audible　in　the　silence　as　the　ma？tre　d'　drew　in　a　fresh　breath　with　which　to　scream；　and　I　saw　she　was　right。　The　crotch　of　the　skinny　man's　dress　pants　was　soaked。
　　'See　here；　you　idiot；'　Humboldt　said；　turning　to　face　him；　and　the　ma？tre　d'　brought　his　left　hand　out　from　behind　his　back。　In　it　was　the　largest　butcher…knife　I　have　ever　seen。　It　had　to　have　been　two　feet　long；　with　the　top　part　of　its　cutting　edge　slightly　belled；　like　a　cutlass　in　an　old　pirate　movie。
　　'Look　out！'　I　yelled　at　Humboldt；　and　at　one　of　the　tables　against　the　wall　a　skinny　man　in　rimless　spectacles　screamed；　ejecting　a　mouthful　of　chewed　brown　fragments　of　food　onto　the　tablecloth　in　front　of　him。
　　Humboldt　seemed　to　hear　neither　my　yell　nor　the　other　man's　scream。　He　was　frowning　thunderously　at　the　ma？tre　d'。　'You　don't　need　to　expect　to　see　me　in　here　again　if　this　is　the　way…'　Humboldt　began。
　　'Eeeeeee！　EEEEEEEEE！'　the　ma？tre　d'　screamed；　and　swung　the　butcher…knife　flat　through　the　air。　It　made　a　kind　of　whickering　sound；　like　a　whispered　sentence。　The　period　was　the　sound　of　the　blade　burying　itself　in　William　Humboldt's　right　cheek。　Blood　exploded　out　of　the　wound　in　a　furious　spray　of　tiny　droplets。　They　decorated　the　tablecloth　in　a　fan…shaped　stipplework；　and　I　clearly　saw　（I　will　never　forget　it）　one　bright　red　drop　fall　into　my　waterglass　and　then　dive　for　the　bottom　with　a　pinkish　filament　like　a　tail　stretching　out　behind　it。　It　looked　like　a　bloody　tadpole。
　　Humboldt's　cheek　snapped　open；　revealing　his　teeth；　and　as　he　clapped　his　hand　to　the　gouting　wound；　I　saw　something　pinkish…white　lying　on　the　shoulder　of　his　charcoal…gray　suitcoat。　It　wasn't　until　the　whole　thing　was　over　that　I　realized　it　must　have　been　his　earlobe。
　　'Tell　this　in　your　ears！'　the　ma？tre　d'　screamed　furiously　at　Diane's　bleeding　lawyer；　who　stood　there　with　one　hand　clapped　to　his　cheek。　Except　for　the　blood　pouring　over　and　between　his　fingers；　Humboldt　looked　weirdly　like　Jack　Benny　doing　one　of　his　famous　double…takes。　'Call　this　to　your　hateful　tattle…tale　friends　of　the　street　。　。　。　you　misery　。　。　。　Eeeeeee！　。　。　。　DOG…LOVER！'
　　Now　other　people　were　screaming；　mostly　at　the　sight　of　the　blood。　Humboldt　was　a　big　man；　and　he　was　bleeding　like　a　stuck　pig。　I　could　hear　it　pattering　on　the　floor　like　water　from　a　broken　pipe；　and　the　front　of　his　white　shirt　was　now　red。　His　tie；　which　had　been　red　to　start　with；　was　now　black。
　　'Steve？'　Diane　said。　'Steven？'
　　A　man　and　a　woman　had　been　having　lunch　at　the　table　behind　her　and　slightly　to　her　left。　Now　the　man…about　thirty　and　handsome　in　the　way　George　Hamilton　used　to　be…bolted　to　his　feet　and　ran　toward　the　front　of　the　restaurant。　'Troy；　don't　go　without　me！'　his　date　screamed；　but　Troy　never　looked　back。　He'd　forgotten　all　about　a　library　book　he　was　supposed　to　return；　it　seemed；　or　maybe　about　how　he'd　promised　to　wax　the　car。
　　If　there　had　been　a　paralysis　in　the　room…I　can't　actually　say　if　there　was　or　not；　although　I　seem　to　have　seen　a　great　deal；　and　to　remember　it　all…that　broke　it。　There　were　more　screams　and　other　people　got　up。　Several　tables　were　overturned。　Glasses　and　china　shattered　on　the　floor。　I　saw　a　man　with　his　arm　around　the　waist　of　his　female　panion　hurry　past　behind　the　ma？tre　d'；　her　hand　was　clamped　into　his　shoulder　like　a　claw。　For　a　moment　her　eyes　met　mine；　and　they　were　as　empty　as　the　eyes　of　a　Greek　bust。　Her　face　was　dead　pale；　haglike　with　horror。
　　All　of　this　might　have　happened　in　ten　seconds；　or　maybe　twenty。　I　remember　it　like　a　series　of　photographs　or　filmstrips；　but　it　has　no　timeline。　Time　ceased　to　exist　for　me　at　the　moment　Alfalfa　the　ma？tre　d'　brought　his　left　hand　out　from　behind　his　back　and　I　saw　the　butcher…knife。　During　that　time；　the　man　in　the　tuxedo　continued　to　spew　out　a　confusion　of　words　in　his　special　ma？tre　d's　language；　the　one　that　old　girlfriend　of　mine　had　called　Snooti。　Some　of　it　really　was　in　a　foreign　language；　some　of　it　was　English　but　pletely　without　sense；　and　some　of　it　was　striking　。　。　。　almost　haunting。　Have　you　ever　read　any　of　Dutch　Schultz's　long；　confused　deathbed　statement？　It　was　like　that。　Much　of　it　I　can't　remember。　What　I　can　remember　I　suppose　I'll　never　forget。
　　Humboldt　staggered　backward；　still　holding　his　lacerated　cheek。　The　backs　of　his　knees　struck　the　seat　of　his　chair　and　he　sat　down　heavily　on　it。　He　looks　like　someone　who's　just　been　told　he's　disinherited；　I　thought。　He　started　to　turn　toward　Diane　and　me；　his　eyes　wide　and　shocked。　I　had　time　to　see　there　were　tears　spilling　out　of　them；　and　then　the　ma？tre　d'　wrapped　both　hands　around　the　handle　of　the　butcher…knife　and　buried　it　in　the　center　of　Humboldt's　head。　It　made　a　sound　like　someone　whacking　a　pile　of　towels　with　a　cane。
　　'Boot！'　Humboldt　cried。　I'm　quite　sure　that's　what　his　last　word　on　planet　Earth　was…'boot。'　Then　his　weeping　eyes　rolled　up　to　whites　and　he　slumped　forward　onto　his　plate；　sweeping　his　own　glassware　off　the　table　and　onto　the　floor　with　one　outflung　hand。　As　this　happened；　the　ma？tre　d'…all　his　hair　was　sticking　up　in　back；　now；　not　just　some　of　it…pried　the　long　knife　out　of　his　head。　Blood　sprayed　out　of　the　headwound　in　a　kind　of　vertical　curtain；　and　splashed　the　front　of　Diane's　dress。　She　raised　her　hands　to　her　shoulders　with　the　palms　turned　out　once　again；　but　this　time　it　was　in　horror　rather　than　exasperation。　She　shrieked；　and　then　clapped　her　bloodspattered　hands　to　her　face；　over　her　eyes。　The　ma？tre　d'　paid　no　attention　to　her。　Instead；　he　turned　to　me。
　　
　　'That　dog　of　yours；'　he　said；　speaking　in　an　almost　conversational　tone。　He　registered　absolutely　no　interest　in　or　even　knowledge　of　the　screaming；　terrified　people　stampeding　behind　him　toward　the　doors。　His　eyes　were　very　large；　very　dark。　They　looked　brown　to　me　again；　but　there　seemed　to　be　black　circles　around　the　irises。　'That　dog　of　yours　is　so　much　rage。　All　the　radios　of　Coney　Island　don't　make　up　to　dat　dog；　you　motherfucker。'
　　I　had　the　umbrella　in　my　hand；　and　the　one　thing　I　can't　remember；　no　matter　how　hard　I　try；　is　when　I　grabbed　it。　I　think　it　must　have　been　while　Humboldt　was　standing　transfixed　by　the　realization　that　his　mouth　had　been　expanded　by　eight　inches　or　so；　but　I　simply　can't　remember。　I　remember　the　man　who　looked　like　George　Hamilton　bolting　for　the　door；　and　I　know　his　name　was　Troy　because　that's　what　his　panion　called　after　him；　but　I　can't　remember　picking　up　the　umbrella　I'd　bought　in　the　luggage　store。　It　was　in　my　hand；　though；　the　price…tag　sticking　out　of　the　bottom　of　my　fist；　and　when　the　ma？tre　d'　bent　forward　as　if　bowing　and　ran　the　knife　through　the　air　at　me…meaning；　I　think；　to　bury　it　in　my　throat…I　raised　it　and　brought　it　down　on　his　wrist；　like　an　old…time　teacher　whacking　an　unruly　pupil　with　his　hickory　stick。
　　'Ud！'　the　ma？tre　d'　grunted　as　his　hand　was　driven　sharply　down　and　the　blade　meant　for　my　throat　ploughed　through　the　soggy　pinkish　tablecloth　instead。　He　held　on；　though；　and　pulled　it　back。　If　I'd　tried　to　hit　his　knife…hand　again　I'm　sure　I　would　have　missed；　but　I　didn't。　I　swung　at　his　face；　and　fetched　him　an　excellent　lick…as　excellent　a　lick　as　one　can　administer　with　an　umbrella；　anyway…up　the　side　of　his　head。　And　as　I　did；　the　umbrella　popped　open　like　the　visual　punchline　of　a　slapstick　act。
　　I　didn't　think　it　was　funny；　though。　The　bloom　of　the　umbrella　hid　him　from　me　pletely　as　he　staggered　backward　with　his　free　hand　flying　up　to　the　place　where　I'd　hit　him；　and　I　didn't　like　not　being　able　to　see　him。　In　fact；　it　terrified　me。　Not　that　I　wasn't　terrified　already。
　　I　grabbed　Diane's　wrist　and　yanked　her　to　her　feet。　She　came　without　a　word；　took　a　step　toward　me；　then　stumbled　on　her　high　heels　and　fell　clumsily　into　my　arms。　I　was　aware　of　her　breasts　pushing　against　me；　and　the　wet；　warm　clamminess　over　them。
　　'Eeeee！　You　boinker！'　the　ma？tre　d'　screamed；　or　perhaps　it　was　a　'boinger'　he　called　me。　It　probably　doesn't　matter；　I　know　that；　and　yet　it　quite　often　seems　to　me　that　it　does。　Late　at　night；　the　little　questions　haunt　me　as　much　as　the　big　ones。　'You　boinking　bastard！　All　these　radios！　Hush…do…baba！　Fuck　Cousin　Brucie！　Fuck　YOU！'
　　He　started　around　the　table　toward　us　（the　area　behind　him　was　pletely　empty　now；　and　looked　like　the　aftermath　of　a　brawl　in　a　western　movie　saloon）。　My　umbrella　was　still　lying　on　the　table　with　the　opened　top　jutting　off　the　far　side；　and　the　ma？tre　d'　bumped　it　with　his　hip。　It　fell　off　in　front　of　him；　and　while　he　kicked　it　aside；　I　set　Diane　back　on　her　feet　and　pulled　her　toward　the　far　side　of　the　room。　The　front　door　was　no　good；　it　was　probably　too　far　away　in　any　case；　but　even　if　we　could　get　there；　it　was　still　jammed　tight　with　frightened；　screaming　people。　If　he　wanted　me…or　both　of　us…he　would　have　no　trouble　catching　us　and　carving　us　like　a　couple　of　turkeys。
　　'Bugs！　You　bugs！　。　。　。　Eeeeee！　。　。　。　So　much　for　your　dog；　eh？　So　much　for　your　barking　dog！'
　　'Make　him　stop！'　Diane　screamed。　'Oh　Jesus；　he's　going　to　kill　us　both；　make　him　stop！'
　　'I　rot　you；　you　abominations！'　Closer；　now。　The　umbrella　hadn't　held　him　up　for　long；　that　was　for　sure。　'I　rot　you　and　all　your　trulls！'
　　I　saw　three　doors；　two　of　them　facing　each　other　in　a　small　alcove　where　there　was　also　a　pay　telephone。　Men's　and　women's　rooms。　No　good。　Even　if　they　were　single　toilets　with　locks　on　the　doors；　they　were　no　good。　A　nut　like　this　one　behind　us　would　have　no　trouble　bashing　a　bathroom　lock　off　its　screws；　and　we　would　have　nowhere　to　run。
　　I　dragged　her　toward　the　third　door　and　shoved　through　it　into　a　world　of　clean　green　tiles；　strong　fluorescent　light；　gleaming　chrome；　and　steamy　odors　of　food。　The　smell　of　salmon　dominat