He moped down the street and sauntered slowly into the Shin Bone restaurant, sighing pitifully and feeling very sorry for himself.
A slovenly2 waitress suppressed a yawn, shuffled3 across the floor in slipshod shoes, and asked indifferently: “Whut’s yours?”
Skeeter waited a moment, hoping that his appearance of personified calamity4 would impress the woman and she would sympathize with his heart-break, but she looked like she was going to sleep while standing5 in the middle of the floor so he barked his order:
“I’s had so many troubles my appetite is plum’ gone, Pearly. Gimme a plate of gumbo soup, a dozen fried oystyers, a bait of fried catfish6, two slices of apple pie an’ a glass of milk, a hunk of watermelon an’ a cup of coffee.”
He smoked cigarettes and thought up mean things to say to Figger Bush until the order was filled, then courted suffocation7 for twenty minutes by eating so rapidly that he did not take the time to breathe.
He had reached out for the pie and milk when Shin Bone, the proprietor8 of the eating-house, came from behind a screen and seated himself at the same table.
“’Lo, Shinny,” Skeeter mumbled9 as he tried to stuff a whole slice of pie in his mouth at one time, and therefore became incapable10 of coherent speech for the next few minutes.
“Hello,” Shin replied, watching Skeeter with interest until the last of the first slice of pie was washed down by the milk. “How’s bizzness?”
“’Tain’t so awful bad,” Skeeter replied. “You an’ me is got good trades. Folks comes to yo’ place because dey gits hungry reg’lar, an’ dey comes to me because dey gits thirsty reg’lar. All we got to do is to wait till dey comes.”
“I ain’t find dat true now, Skeeter,” Shin said gloomily. “Wid me, bizzness is plum’ rotten.”
“How come?” Skeeter asked unconcernedly.
“Pol’tics.”
Skeeter’s interest revived. His second slice of pie lingered half a foot from his mouth, poised11 upon his hand.
“Dis here Uplift League election has done loss me all de customers I’m got,” Shin mourned. “Dey done boycotted12 me, an’ tunked my bizzness in de head wid a ax.”
“Dey hadn’t oughter done it,” Skeeter exclaimed, working himself into a panic. “How did it come to pass?”
“My wife, Whiffle, is de niece of Pap Curtain,” Shin explained. “Pap is runnin’ fer de presidunt of de Liftuppers ag’in Mustard Prophet. All niggers dat favors Mustard is done cut me out.”
“But Pap oughter git you some customers,” Skeeter protested.
“Pap ain’t got de right follerin’,” Shin sighed. “Niggers dat votes wid Pap is de no-shirt, no-sock outfit14, an’ dat kind ain’t got no money to buy vittles. Dey begs deir grub from de cook-ladies in de white folks’ kitchen. Mustard Prophet is got de high-brow, uppity niggers wid him an’ dey’s got de money an’ eats here wid me.”
Skeeter nodded in speechless comprehension of the tragedy, the hand which held the pie wavered and sank slowly to the table, for that pie didn’t look good to Skeeter any more.
“Dem Mustard Prophet voters say dey ain’t never comin’ in here no more,” Shin said dolefully.
“Ef dey don’t feel no better dan I does now, dey wouldn’t fotch you much trade, fer dey couldn’t eat no more dan a brass15 monkey,” Skeeter sighed, pulling his slice of watermelon closer to him, although unconscious of his action. Beads16 of apprehensive17 perspiration18 stood out on his forehead and a sudden weakness assailed19 him.
“Whut ails20 you, Skeeter?” Shin inquired solicitously21, for Skeeter had suddenly collapsed22 like a punctured23 tire. “Don’t you feel good?”
“Somepin I done et is disagreed wid me,” Skeeter moaned. “Lemme git dis coffee down me befo’ I die!”
Shin waited until Skeeter consumed his coffee and rallied.
“Of co’se, Whiffle cain’t he’p bein’ my wife, an’ she cain’t he’p bein’ kin13 to Pap, an’ we bofe cain’t he’p it ef Pap runs fer presidunt, but we shore is got our nose broke.”
“Don’t tell me no more, Shinny,” Skeeter exclaimed, waving both hands and rising to his feet. “My head is crazy now.”
“Is you got troubles, too?” Shin asked sympathetically.
“Troubles?” Skeeter howled. “Ain’t you heerd about Figger Bush? He’s runnin’ fer vice-presidunt wid Pap Curtain.”
“You an’ me bofe blowed up suckers, Skeeter,” Shin said in tragic24 tones. “Our bizzness is bum25 an’ busted26.”
“It’s powerful bad, Shinny,” Skeeter agreed.
“Badder dan you think, Skeeter,” Shin said. “Pap an’ Figger is shore to be elected.”
“How does you dope dat out?” Skeeter asked, panting for breath.
“It lines up dis way,” Shin informed him. “Ginny Babe Chew is runnin’ her petticoat pol’tics fer presidunt. All of Pap’s follerers is sinners in de sight of de Lawd, an’ Ginny Babe Chew is done pronounced on deir sins copious27 an’ frequent, so Pap an’ his crowd hates her. In dat case, Mustard Prophet ain’t gwine git as many votes as he oughter had because Ginny Babe is runnin’ an’ she’ll git her voters from Mustard’s crowd. Of co’se, when de high-brows splits up deir vote, Pap an’ Figger will snow ’em over an’ got in solid.”
Skeeter felt a sudden weakness in his knees and sat down forcibly on the top of the table. Whereupon he felt considerable moisture in the vicinity of his coat-tail and sprang up to find that he had seated himself upon his slice of watermelon.
“By jacks28!” he exclaimed dramatically. “Figger is done ruint my bizzness an’ I done ruint my pants!”
“Ef I wus you, I’d git rid of ’em bofe,” Shin suggested, as Skeeter walked out of the restaurant, wiping the moisture from his trousers with his handkerchief.
When Skeeter had gone, Shin found that the slice of watermelon had not been completely crushed and was not entirely29 unedible, so he drew himself up to the table and thankfully ate the uninjured part.
He felt better after eating the melon until he suddenly recalled that Skeeter had left the eating-house without paying for his meal.
When Skeeter was outside of the restaurant, he promptly31 forgot his trousers and started for his home in a trot32. He went up the long hill toward the Flournoy place like a brown shadow passing through the darkness, threw open the door of a little shed and seized the crank of his “flivver.”
A moment later he was out in the public highway, speeding through the night toward the Nigger-Heel plantation33, on which Mustard Prophet was the overseer.
He found Mustard sitting on the porch of his house, shirtless and barefooted, smoking a vile34 corncob pipe.
“Set down, Skeeter,” he said in greeting. “Take off all yo’ clothes an’ git cool. Dar ain’t no lady folks aroun’.”
“Whut ails you?”
“I been hearin’ dat a move is started to kick you out as presidunt of de Liftup League.”
“Dat’s so,” Mustard said indifferently. “Dey cusses me fer whut I does an’ dey cusses me fer whut I ain’t do, an’ now dey is tryin’ to boost me out an’ drap me down.”
“I don’t favor it, Mustard,” Skeeter said earnestly. “I come out to offer my he’p. You oughter hab me to scuffle fer you durin’ de day while you got to wuck on dis plantation.”
“Dat’s a good notion, Skeeter,” Mustard said thankfully. “I app’ints you he’per right now.”
“Hol’ on, Mustard,” Skeeter said. “It don’t go so fast an’ easy as dat. In de fust place, I wants de Hen-Scratch saloon to be de headquarters of yo’ side in de race.”
“I’ll arrange dat,” Mustard said easily.
“In de nex’ place, I wants to run wid you on yo’ side fer vice-presidunt,” Skeeter continued.
“I’ll fix dat easy,” Mustard said. “Dar ain’t nobody wid good sense dat wants to be vice-presidunt of nothin’. Dat’s like bein’ de curl in a pig’s tail—jes’ ornamental36 behind.”
“’Tain’t no diffunce, I wants dat job,” Skeeter insisted.
“I announces you to-morrer,” Mustard said.
“Dat’s all, Mustard,” Skeeter concluded, as he slapped his hat on his head. “I got to hustle37 back now an’ start my voters to wuckin’.”
“Dar now!” Skeeter said to himself exultantly38, as his little machine rattled39 off the miles back to Tickfall. “I done got dat fixed40 right. Figger is vice-presidunt on one side an’ I is vice-presidunt on de yuther side, an’ bofe sides is promised to make de Hen-Scratch deir headquarters.”
Seven miles of sandy road slipped under his flying wheels like a brown ribbon while he contemplated41 this master stroke of business. He placed his little machine under the shed and climbed into bed before he spoke42 to himself again:
“Dat’s whut I calls a good sense compromise.”
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1
tambourine
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| n.铃鼓，手鼓 | |
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2
slovenly
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| adj.懒散的，不整齐的，邋遢的 | |
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3
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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4
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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5
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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6
catfish
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| n.鲶鱼 | |
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7
suffocation
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| n.窒息 | |
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8
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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9
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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11
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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12
boycotted
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| 抵制，拒绝参加( boycott的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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14
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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15
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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16
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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17
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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18
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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19
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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20
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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21
solicitously
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| adv.热心地，热切地 | |
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22
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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punctured
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| v.在（某物）上穿孔( puncture的过去式和过去分词 )；刺穿（某物）；削弱（某人的傲气、信心等）；泄某人的气 | |
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24
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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bum
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| n.臀部；流浪汉，乞丐；vt.乞求，乞讨 | |
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26
busted
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| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
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27
copious
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| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
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28
jacks
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| n.抓子游戏；千斤顶( jack的名词复数 )；（电）插孔；[电子学]插座；放弃 | |
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29
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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32
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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33
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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34
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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35
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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36
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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37
hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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38
exultantly
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| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
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39
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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40
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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41
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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42
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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