“Can’t help it.”
“Well, when I die you’ll inherit this sack, wear it, and know darkness.”
The head turned and I could almost feel his eyes burn the dark material.
“Right now, I can look through your ribs and see your heart like a flower or a fist, opening, closing, open, shut. You believe that?”
I put my fist on my chest.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Now.”
He turned to point his Hood up along the hotel for twelve stories.
“Know what I been thinking?”
“Sir?”
“Stop calling myself Mr. Mysterious.”
“Oh, no!”
“Hold on! I’ve done what I came for. Car sales are runaway. Hallelujah. But look, Quint. Look up and touch. What if I became the Human Fly?”
I gasped. “You mean—”
“Yessireebob. Can’t you just see me up six stories and eight and twelve at the top, with my Hood still on, waving down at the crowd?”
“Gee!”
“Glad for your approval.” Mr. M. stepped forward and started to climb, reaching for holds, finding, and climbing more. When he was three feet up he said, “What’s a good tall name for a Human Fly?”
I shut my eyes, then said:
“Hightower!”
“Hightower, by God! Do we go home to breakfast?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mashed bananas, mashed cornflakes, mashed oatmeal—”
“Ice cream!” I added.
“Melted,” said the Human Fly and climbed back down.
I Wonder What’s Become of Sally
Somebody started playing the yellow-keyed piano, somebody started singing, and somebody, myself, started thinking. The words of the song were slow, sweet, and sad:
“I wonder what’s become of Sally,
That old gal of mine.”
I hummed it. I remembered some more words:
“The sunshine’s gone from out our alley,