The Plastic Age, Percy Marks [top 10 books of all time TXT] 📗
- Author: Percy Marks
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Said A Word To Impeach His Friendship To You. But I Must Set Him
Aside As A Man Capable Of Transacting This Business. It Is Not De
Son Ressort, And I Know That He Has Difficulties To Combat With, If
He Undertakes It, Which Are Insuperable. Now, When I Talk Of Men Of
Business, I Will Explain Myself. I Mean Three For Example: Mr.
Wallis, If Ever You Consult Him, Mr. Gregg, And Lavie. I Would Also
Seriously Apply To My Lord Gower For His Advice, And Make Him A
Confidant In What Relates To This Business. He Has Very Powerful
Motives For Interesting Himself In It. All Others I Would Silence At
Once
Slippers And Drew On A Bath-Robe. "Of Course, She Does. All The Girls Do
Now. She's Just As Idealistic As I Am."
He Wrapped The Bath-Robe Around Him And Departed For The Showers,
Singing Gaily:
"Say It With Music,
Beautiful Music;
Somehow They'd Rather Be Kissed
To The Strains Of Chopin Or Liszt.
A Melody Mellow Played On A Cello
Helps Mister Cupid Along--
So Say It With A Beautiful Song."
Shortly He Returned, Still Singing The Same Song, His Voice Full And
Happy. He Continued To Sing As He Dressed, Paying No Attention To Norry,
Completely Lost In His Own Elysian Thoughts.
To Hugh And Cynthia The Musical Comedy Was A Complete Success, Although
The Music, Written By An Undergraduate, Was Strangely Reminiscent Of
Several Recent Broadway Song Successes, And The Plot Of The Comedy Got
Lost After The First Ten Minutes And Was Never Recovered Until The Last
Two. It Was Amusing To Watch Men Try To Act Like Women, And Two Of The
"Ladies" Of The Chorus Were Patently Drunk. _Cleopatra_, The Leading
Lady, Was A Wrestler And Looked It, His Biceps Swelling Magnificently
Every Time He Raised His Arms To Embrace The Comic _Antony_. It Was
Glorious Nonsense Badly Enough Done To Be Really Funny. Hugh And
Cynthia, Along With The Rest Of The Audience, Laughed Joyously--And Held
Hands.
After The Play Was Over, They Returned To The Nu Delta House And Danced
Until Two In The Morning. During One Dance Cynthia Whispered To Him,
"Hugh, Get Me A Drink Or I'll Pass Out."
Hugh, Forgetting His Indignation Of The Year Before, Went In Search Of
Vinton And Deprived That Young Man Of A Pint Of Gin Without A Scruple.
He And Cynthia Then Sneaked Behind The House And Did Away With The
Liquor. Other Couples Were Drinking, All Of Them Surreptitiously,
Leonard Gates Having Laid Down The Law In No Uncertain Manner, And All
Of The Brothers Were A Little Afraid Of Gates.
Cynthia Slept Until Noon The Next Day, And Hugh Went To His Classes. In
The Afternoon They Attended A Baseball Game, And Then Returned To The
Fraternity House For Another Tea-Dance. The Prom Was To Be That Night.
Hugh Assured Cynthia That It Was Going To Be A "Wet Party," And That
Vinton Had Sold Him A Good Supply Of Scotch.
The Campus Was Rife With Stories: This Was The Wettest Prom On Record,
The Girls Were Drinking As Much As The Men, Some Of The Fraternities Had
Made The Sky The Limit, The Dormitories Were Being Invaded By Couples In
The Small Hours Of The Night, And So On. Hugh Heard Numerous Stories But
Paid No Attention To Them. He Was Supremely Happy, And That Was All That
Mattered. True, Several Men Had Advised Him To Bring Plenty Of Liquor
Along To The Prom If He Wanted To Have A Good Time, And He Was Careful
To Act On Their Advice, Especially As Cynthia Had Assured Him That She
Would Dance Until Doomsday If He Kept Her "Well Oiled With Hooch."
The Gymnasium Was Gaily Decorated For The Prom, The Walls Hidden With
Greenery, The Rafters Twined With The College Colors And Almost Lost
Behind Hundreds Of Small Japanese Lanterns. The Fraternity Booths Were
Made Of Fir Boughs, And The Orchestra Platform In The Middle Of The
Floor Looked Like A Small Forest Of Saplings.
The Girls Were Beautiful In The Soft Glow Of The Lanterns, Their Arms
And Shoulders Smooth And White; The Men Were Trim And Neat In Their
Tuxedos, The Dark Suits Emphasizing The Brilliant Colors Of The Girls'
Gowns.
It Was Soon Apparent That Some Of The Couples Had Got At Least Half
"Oiled" Before The Dance Began, And Before An Hour Had Passed Many More
Couples Gave Evidence Of Imbibing More Freely Than Wisely. Occasionally
A Hysterical Laugh Burst Shrilly Above The Pounding Of The Drums And The
Moaning Of The Saxophones. A Couple Would Stagger Awkwardly Against
Another Couple And Then Continue Unevenly On An Uncertain Way.
The Stags Seemed To Be The Worst Offenders. Many Of Them Were Joyously
Drunk, Dashing Dizzily Across The Floor To Find A Partner, And Once
Having Taken Her From A Friend, Dragging Her About, Happily Unconscious
Of Anything But The Girl And The Insistent Rhythm Of The Music.
The Musicians Played As If In A Frenzy, The Drums Pound-Pounding A
Terrible Tom-Tom, The Saxophones Moaning And Wailing, The Violins
Singing Sensuously, Shrilly As If In Pain, An Exquisite Searing Pain.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom. "Stumbling All Around, Stumbling All Around,
Stumbling All Around So Funny--" Close-Packed The Couples Moved Slowly
About The Gymnasium, Body Pressed Tight To Body, Swaying In Place--Boom,
Boom, Boom, Boom--"Stumbling Here And There, Stumbling Everywhere--"
Six Dowagers, The Chaperons, Sat In A Corner, Gossiped, And Idly Watched
The Young Couples.... A Man Suddenly Released His Girl And Raced
Clumsily For The Door, One Hand Pressed To His Mouth, The Other
Stretched Uncertainly In Front Of Him.
Always The Drums Beating Their Terrible Tom-Tom, Their Primitive,
Blood-Maddening Tom-Tom.... Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom--"I Like It Just A
Little Bit, Just A Little Bit, Quite A Little Bit." The Music Ceased,
And Some Of The Couples Disentangled Themselves; Others Waited In Frank
Embrace For The Orchestra To Begin The Encore.... A Boy Slumped In A
Chair, His Head In His Hands. His Partner Sought Two Friends. They
Helped The Boy Out Of The Gymnasium.
The Orchestra Leader Lifted His Bow. The Stags Waited In A Broken Line,
Looking For Certain Girls. The Music Began, Turning A Song With Comic
Words Into Something Weirdly Sensuous--Strange Syncopations, Uneven,
Startling Drum-Beats--A Mad Tom-Tom. The Couples Pressed Close Together
Again, Swaying, Barely Moving In Place--Boom, Boom, Boom,
Boom--"Second-Hand Hats, Second-Hand Clothes--That's Why They Call Me
Second-Hand Rose...." The Saxophones Sang The Melody With Passionate
Despair; The Violins Played Tricks With A Broken Heart; The Clarinets
Rose Shrill In Pain; The Drums Beat On--Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.... A
Boy And Girl Sought A Dark Corner. He Shielded Her With His Body While
She Took A Drink From A Flask. Then He Turned His Face To The Corner And
Drank. A Moment Later They Were Back On The Floor, Holding Each Other
Tight, Drunkenly Swaying... Finally The Last Strains, A Wall Of
Agony--"Ev-'Ry One Knows That I'm Just Sec-Ond-Hand Rose--From Sec-Ond
Av-En-Ue."
The Couples Moved Slowly Off The Floor, The Pounding Of The Drums Still
In Their Ears And In Their Blood; Some Of Them Sought The Fraternity
Booths; Some Of The Girls Retired To Their Dressing-Room, Perhaps To
Have Another Drink; Many Of The Men Went Outside For A Smoke And To Tip
A Flask Upward. Through The Noise, The Sex-Madness, The Half-Drunken
Dancers, Moved Men And Women Quite Sober, The Men Vainly Trying To
Shield The Women From Contact With Any One Who Was Drunk. There Was An
Angry Light In Those Men's Eyes, But Most Of Them Said Nothing, Merely
Kept Close To Their Partners, Ready To Defend Them From Any Too
Assertive Friend.
Again The Music, Again The Tom-Tom Of The Drums. On And On For Hours. A
Man "Passed Out Cold" And Had To Be Carried From The Gymnasium. A Girl
Got A "Laughing Jag" And Shrieked With Idiotic Laughter Until Her
Partner Managed To Lead Her Protesting Off The Floor. On And On, The
Constant Rhythmic Wailing Of The Fiddles, Syncopated Passion Screaming
With Lust, The Drums, Horribly Primitive; Drunken Embraces.... "Oh,
Those Wabash Blues--I Know I Got My Dues--A Lone-Some Soul Am I--I Feel
That I Could Die..." Blues, Sobbing, Despairing Blues.... Orgiastic
Music--Beautiful, Hideous! "Can-Dle Light That Gleams--Haunts Me In My
Dreams..." The Drums Boom, Boom, Boom, Booming--"I'll Pack My Walking
Shoes, To Lose--Those Wa-Bash Blues..."
Hour After Hour--On And On. Flushed Faces, Breaths Hot With Passion And
Whisky.... Pretty Girls, Cool And Sober, Dancing With Men Who Held Them
With Drunken Lasciviousness; Sober Men Hating The Whisky Breaths Of The
Girls.... On And On, The Drunken Carnival To Maddening Music--The
Passion, The Lust.
Both Hugh And Cynthia Were Drinking, And By Midnight Both Of Them Were
Drunk, Too Drunk Any Longer To Think Clearly. As They Danced, Hugh Was
Aware Of Nothing But Cynthia's Body, Her Firm Young Body Close To His.
His Blood Beat With The Pounding Of The Drums. He Held Her Tighter And
Tighter--The Gymnasium, The Other Couples, A Swaying Mist Before His
Eyes.
When The Dance Ended, Cynthia Whispered Huskily, "Ta-Take Me Somewhere,
Hugh."
Strangely Enough, He Got The Significance Of Her Words At Once. His
Blood Raced, And He Staggered So Crazily That Cynthia Had To Hold Him By
The Arm.
"Sure--Sure; I'll--I'll Ta-Take You Some-Somewhere. I--I, Too,
Cyntheea."
They Walked Unevenly Out Of The Gymnasium, Down The Steps, And Through
The Crowd Of Smokers Standing Outside. Hardly Aware Of What He Was
Doing, Hugh Led Cynthia To Keller Hall, Which Was Not More Than Fifty
Yards Distant.
He Took A Flask Out Of His Pocket. "Jush One More Drink," He Said
Thickly And Emptied The Bottle. Then, Holding Cynthia Desperately By The
Arm, He Opened The Door Of Keller Hall And Stumbled With Her Up The
Stairs To Norry Parker's Room. Fortunately The Hallways Were Deserted,
And No One Saw Them. The Door Was Unlocked, And Hugh, After Searching
Blindly For The Switch, Finally Clicked On The Lights And Mechanically
Closed The Door Behind Him.
He Was Very Dizzy. He Wanted Another Drink--And He Wanted Cynthia. He
Put His Arms Around Her And Pulled Her Drunkenly To Him. The Door Of One
Of The Bedrooms Opened, And Norry Parker Stood Watching Them. He Had
Spent The Evening At The Home Of A Musical Professor And Had Returned To
His Room Only A Few Minutes Before. His Face Went White When He Saw The
Embracing Couple.
"Hugh!" He Said Sharply.
Hugh And Cynthia, Still Clinging To Each Other, Looked At Him. Slowly
Cynthia Took Her Arms From Around Hugh's Neck And Forced Herself From
His Embrace. Norry Disappeared Into His Room And Came Out A Minute Later
With His Coat On; He Had Just Begun To Undress When He Had Heard A Noise
In The Study.
"I'll See You Home, Cynthia," He Said Quietly. He Took Her Arm And Led
Her Out Of The Room--And Locked The Door Behind Him. Hugh Stared At Them
Blankly, Swaying Slightly, Completely Befuddled. Cynthia Went With Norry
Willingly Enough, Leaning Heavily On His Arm And Occasionally Sniffing.
When He Returned To His Room, Hugh Was Sitting On The Floor Staring At A
Photograph Of Norry's Mother. He Had Been Staring At It For Ten Minutes,
Holding It First At Arm's Length And Then Drawing It Closer And Closer
To Him. No Matter Where He Held It, He Could Not See What It Was--And He
Was Determined To See It.
Norry Walked Up To Him And Reached For The Photograph.
"Give Me That," He Said Curtly. "Take Your Hands On My Mother's
Picture."
"It's Not," Hugh Exclaimed Angrily; "It's Not. It's My Musher, My Own
Mu-Musher--My, My Own Dear Musher. Oh, Oh!"
He Slumped Down In A Heap And Began To Sob Bitterly, Muttering, "Musher,
Musher, Musher."
Norry Was Angry. The Whole Scene Was Revolting To Him. His Best Friend
Was A Disgusting Sight, Apparently Not Much Better Than A Gibbering
Idiot. And Hugh Had Shamefully Abused His Hospitality. Norry Was No
Longer Gentle And Boyish; He Was Bitterly Disillusioned.
"Get Up," He Said Briefly. "Get Up And Go To Bed."
"Tha's My Musher. You Said It Wasn't My--My Musher." Hugh Looked Up, His
Face Wet With Maudlin Tears.
Norry Leaned Over And Snatched The Picture From Him. "Take Your Dirty
Hands Off Of That," He Snapped. "Get Up And Go To Bed."
"Tha's My Musher." Hugh Was Gently Persistent.
"It's Not Your Mother. You Make Me Sick. Go To Bed." Norry Tugged At
Hugh's Arm Impotently; Hugh Simply Sat Limp, A Dead Weight.
Norry's Gray Eyes Narrowed. He Took A Glass, Filled It With Cold Water
In The Bedroom, And Then Deliberately Dashed The Water Into Hugh's Face.
Then He Repeated The Performance.
Hugh Shook His Head And Rubbed His Hands Wonderingly Over His Face. "I'm
No Good," He Said Almost Clearly. "I'm No Good."
"You Certainly Aren't. Come On; Get Up And Go To Bed." Again Norry
Tugged At His Arm, And This Time Hugh, Clinging Clumsily To The Edge Of
The Table By Which He Was Sitting, Staggered To His Feet.
"I'm A Blot," He Declared Mournfully; "I'm
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