billy the jones woke up.
the sun was shining through the window of the little attic room of mrs starsh’s rooming house.
the sun is shining, thought billy, that reminds me of something, but for the life of me i can not quite put my finger on it.
he put his shoes on and went down the back stairs to the kitchen. he knew that breakfast was probably over, but he thought mrs starsh might mot begrudge him a cup of coffeee or a leftover scrap of bacon.
through the door of the kitchen billy could see old moe gleaper and uncle rumpus still sitting over their coffee and looking forward to a long day of doing nothing.
i wish i had it made like these two old fools, billy thought. i wonder what roguery they were up to, that they could hatch such comfortable nest eggs that they could just drink coffee in the morning and whiskey in the twilight for the rest of their natural lives.
is that you, billy? old moe gleaper croaked.
who else do i look like, billy thought, but he just said, yes sir.
mister wendell slurp was by this morning looking for you, old moe said.
of course, thought billy, that was what i remembered i forgot. i told mr wendell slurp i would accompany him on some tomfoolery or other down by the creek .
mr slurp left a message for you, uncle rumpus said.
and what was that? billy asked.
that you were a double crossing toad eating little weasel, and that he was going to string you up on the elm tree on the courthouse lawn and cut your liver and gizzard out and feed then to the yellow dog behind mrs cleo’s.
he said that, did he?
word for word.
well then i reckon i better keep a sharp lookout, billy said. he turned to mrs starsh, who was busily scrubbing her old black frying pan.
say, missus, i know i am late for breakfast, but might i beg a little scrap of leftovers or a swig of your fine aromatic coffee?
what about your rent, young man? mrs starsh replied.
what about my rent?
you were to get no breakfast this morning, billy, until you paid your rent. i got folks to pay and i can’t be stuffing good food into useless mouths.
that is awful sudden, mrs starsh. i thought you were a christian woman.
and i thought you were an enterprising young man, with one foot in the stirrup.
be that as it may, do you think i could have any coffee that might be left?
if there are any dregs in the pot, help yourself.
thank you kindly, ma’am. you will surely reap your reward when we all gather at the river.
after fortifying himself with the inch and a half of vile sludge in the coffee pot, and thanking mrs starsh again, billy walked through the dining room and out into the street.
watch out for wendell slurp! uncle rumpus called out as the door closed behind him. and uncle rumpus and old moe laughed as if that were the funniest thing they ever heard, like the two toothless but still mean old dogs that they were.
billy wandered up the street to the big trail saloon. miss lily dale was up early, plying her trade in front of it.
good morning, miss lily.
good morning, billy.
think you could spare a nickel this morning? a plugged one will do, if you ain’t got no other.
go on, billy , miss lily laughed. what have i always told you? you wasn’t born to be no rounder, no sort of fancy man that ladies will spend their hard earned gains upon.
i didn’t ask you for your life savings, miss lily, i just asked you for a nickel.
you should give up your sad attempts at skullduggery and get a job. i hear big frank tentpole over at the lazy q is hiring for next month’s cattle drive.
a job! billy protested. i told my old pappy i would never lower myself to such degradistical humiliation. a man is born free, and should walk the earth free.
well then you have yourself a free day, billy. and watch out for mr wendell slurp, who has threatened to cut out your gizzard on the courthouse lawn at high noon or some such evilness. it is all over town that he means to do so.
damnation, thought billy, as he left miss lily and wended his way down the dusty street to the outskirts of town. maybe i better take old slurp’s threats seriously. i should find myself a magic lamp or something like it.
*
down past the barber shop and the pawn shop, past the last drop saloon and the old bridge over the creek, and down the hill, was the town dump.
billy kicked through it looking for a magic lamp.
he found one that looked like it might do, and picked it up and rubbed it.
make a wish, the lamp said in a wheezy voice.
a wish? what is this, a wish? how about three wishes?
i am sorry, the lamp replied, one wish is all i have left in me.
i see, said billy, it is no wonder you were lying here in the town dump, instead of on the shelf of a respectable pawn shop.
there is no need to get nasty, young man. do you want your one wish or not?
all right, billy replied, give me a minute to think about it.
i am in no hurry.
all i want, billy said after a while, all i want - is for everybody to leave me alone.
fair enough, the lamp said, wish granted.
billy looked around. nothing had changed. there was nobody around, but there had not been anybody around before he made the wish.
there were no dogs or cats around, or any birds in the sky, but he had not noticed any before.
how do i know my wish came true? he asked the lamp.
the lamp made no reply, and he dropped it on the ground.
he climbed up the hill to the road, and walked back into town.
he looked in at the last drop saloon. it was the town’s lower class drinking spot, as opposed to the higher class big trail saloon on main street, but it usually did a good business early, as the town riff raff , like their betters, could not drink all day if they did not drink in the morning.
it was empty.
billy headed up to main street. he passed willie’s barbershop and looked in at the window.
no willie. and no customers.
miss lily was gone from in front of the last trail saloon, and billy entered the saloon and it too was empty, of customers and bartenders and waitresses.
billy went behind the bar and found a bottle and poured himself a glass of whiskey.
then he took the bottle with him and went back out into the street.
a strange silence prevailed. the lamp had done its work well, he had to give it credit.
he went back to the boarding house. as he had expected, mrs starsh was gone, and old moe gleaper and uncle rumpus and all the other boarders. but he grabbed his bag with all his belongings in it.
he put the jelly doughnuts and the bottle of whiskey in the bag and slung it over his shoulder and headed out of town.
the road was dusty.
as he walked along, he thought of all his past lives, when he had been billy the kid and billy the lion and william wilson the magician and two fisted will willoughby and bill-moloch the ancient god of lenmuria.
those were the good times. would they ever come again?
he kept walking.
he may be walking still.
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