the waitress and the satanist, chapter 13: the duke knew that samantha was just teasing

additional dialogue by allen toussaint, j t "funny paper" smith, merline "the yas yas girl" johnson, and sergio leone

"beautiful, isn't she?" "haven't we been over this before? didn't we just have this conversation? the duke put his hand on samantha's arm and steered her away from the center of the party to the little coffee table in front of the french windows. after samantha had made herself comfortable on the low divan, or maybe it was the high settee, they resumed their conversation in a more amiable manner. in the center of the party, near the bar, harry and jake continued their heated argument. "we sit here in club chairs, while a few hundred yards away, murder is being done for pennies - for a few grains of opium." "but we aren't sitting in club chairs, harry, we are standing at the bar at the duke of r------------'s monthly get together, getting trashed." "that's true, that's true. a great distinction. you know, i think i've had too much to drink." "me too. let's get some fresh air." harry looked around. "is there any?" "let's get some outside air. outside." "that's where the air is," samantha fingered the little green pincushion doll with the hong kong eyes and the istanbul hair as she watched harry and jake make their way with surprising resolve and singlemindedness to the windows behind her. she kept her eyes averted as they passed directly behind her. "look at this one." the duke picked up another little doll, a red one with white eyes and the blue uniform of one of alexander i's hussars. it held a golden baton in one hand and a pair of gardener's shears in the other. "a little elaborate for my taste," samantha murmured politely. "but it must have a history behind it." "maybe your drink has cooled off." outside of hundreds of dead men she is waiting for you polyethylene "he shot that no good hoss." "she's waiting for you upstairs." "this isn't a half bad party." "but it's the duke of r----------'s. it should be good." "there you go again - betraying your enslavement to the culture of expectation." harry breathed the outside air. "it's not that fresh." he told jake. jake took out his trusty old .45. it had been weighing him down all night. harry took out his brand new silver plated .357 that his grandmother had given him on her death bed. it had the initials "p e" engraved on it. nobody knew what they meant. "let's do it.' jake nodded. "it's time." piranhas 'how much?" "but the woman is a saint." of hundreds of dead men worn with the heels packing company "he shot that no good hoss." harry went around to the right, jake to the left. there was no breeze. outside "that's the first time i've heard the word saint used without irony since - since - " "but the age of irony is over." outside forever "he shot that no good hoss." in the hallway she's waiting for you hundreds of dead men she's waiting for you "i've only got fifteen.' "fifteen what? and you will have to speak louder.'' the gray carpet forever outside 'what i've got is worth more than fifteen." in the hallway the white fog 'there is no history behind it at all. one of the maids made it this morning. i thought it had a little air about it." "the maids have time to make dolls? what would the old duchess, your grandmother, have thought of that?" "well, with the labor saving devices they have these days -" "you allow your servants to use labor saving devices?" the duke knew that samantha was just teasing and he smiled. 'if you only knew how sore my legs get." the gray carpet the gray carpet forever in the hallway worn with the heels the white fog "he shot that no good hoss" the jockeys heard the shots and came running. "you want to play?" the maid - the one who had made the hussar doll - and the young marquis were playing a video game in one of the upstairs bedrooms. "no, it's all i did for twenty years in prison." the maid's son was seated in the old duchess's favorite armchair, which had been moved upstairs on her recent demise. 'a sepoy is more loyal than an irishman at any rate," "at any rate." jake looked around the corner. it began to rain. but not, he noticed, at the far corner of the house, which harry would be coming around. harry had always had all the luck, especially with gloria and ever since gloria. it started to rain harder. with his trusty old .45 held at his the gray carpet of hundreds of dead men piranhas polyester "you were in prison for twenty years?" the young marquis asked jacques. "yes.' "and all you did was play video games? "when i wasn't working in the kitchen, yes." two shots rang out in the white hall on the gray carpet in the rain on the far corner "if i could pick a few winners i'd be all right." worn with the heels the white fog in the hallway "how many men did you kill in prison?" "none, it wasn't a movie." "harry the horse and jake the snake. a couple of right villains." "actually sir i think they are - were - harry the haberdasher and jake the bricklayer - if you don't mind my saying so, sir." two shots rang out piranhas on easter island in pursuit of a "well, it's all the same now anyway, innit?" "we watched the same movies you did." "did ypu know these gentlemen, sir?" "yes. i did." 'i believe they were harry the haberdasher and jake the bricklayer - a pair of notorious malefactors." "as a matter of fact they were harold anderson, who owned a chain of home appliance stores in colorado and new mexico, and jackson johnson, the owner and managing partner of a fuel cell business in haverford, pennsylvania. i've known them both for twenty-five years." "how many times did you have totally hot man sex with the other inmates?" "never." "liar liar pants on fire." "rude little devil, isn't he?" jacques asked his mother. "he is a marquis." "that's no excuse for bad manners." "what do they teach these kids these days?" "ah, you were well served to be safe in prison, mon enfant." "we'll sort it all out at headquarters, sir." "we watched the same movies you did."