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Pulp Fiction, 1955 · page 70 of 146

Argosy: The Short Story Magazine — page 70: what you’re looking at

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Argosy: The Short Story Magazine — page 70: Pulp Fiction, 1955

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ad, < | Se ee? : mane 4 re “a ; See lg £ i - a ~ % . <A mt % oy * 6 bah “2 ‘ =) 4 ¥, on 7 aly pe 4 tate ay cout Se Si aees eS ae Bey: '7O CHRISTOPHER LANDON ae I watched for a moment and then went over to where Hank ___was standing, halfway between the two vehicles, scowling at the — a 3 Egyptians’ truck. He had a bottle of Bourbon in one hand. ‘ : ‘“‘ What’s the matter, Hank? ” e He stared at me. “ I’ve just remembered it’s my birthday. I asked those two to have a drink and they said no. They’ve just | gone off to cook that stinking mess of theirs and we shan’t see them again tonight.” 3 ““ Many happy returns,” I said, “—and don’t bother about a them. We’ll celebrate.” ae We did. Too well—for when the Bourbon was finished, there _ was only the bottle of gin in my kit, and I should have known 4 they wouldn’t mix. But it was nice to sit there just ne under the stars—so close they seemed that you felt you could © reach up and pick them out of the sky. All mee still have been © well if I hadn’t said I was hungry. fe dank said he would prepare something seeiit in honour of i his birthday. He had never cooked before so far from civiliza- _ tion and he took the hell of a long time to do it. When he came _ back with the plates, he announced that it was devilled lobster. _ It was lobster—tinned—but heaven knows what he had done ~ with it: to me it seemed to have been fried in cayenne and some of the Bourbon he had kept back. But it was good. 4 The party died naturally after that, and we crawled off to our | beds by the truck. It was about one in the morning when I woke up. In the pit of my stomach there was a large round boulder that was trying to burrow its way out and into the sand; I twisted and turned, but it wouldn’t go. The only thing was to try and ~ walk it off. ee While I pulled on my boots I could hear Hank snoring peace- 4 fully—a digestion like an ostrich. I slipped a compass in my — pocket and set off to the north up the Road. * A great yellow moon had come up, and it was cool, absolutely — still, with all the desert bathed in pale light. The Road looked q even more strange and impressive. The grooves were straight — black lines drawn over the pallid plain going on and on to infinity. — On either side the bones gleamed, some, as the soft light heid . them, glowing like pearls: then a skull, thin, slewe1 sideways from a column of neck-bones, would be looking at me, grinning. I walked on—always the straight lines ahead, always the white heaps gliding by on either side. ‘There was not a sound but the ~ ie $ a 3 % ‘ = yy Pe | b> ™ fi ee <a ; we < b {oe PGA TE, _* 3c, = et > af pad of my boots on the sand. The way narrowed between two ia outcrops of rock, and the bones pressed closer, a solid white bank = now, with no sand showing between them. I sat down with my s back egainst a boulder and lit a pipe. ag z comicbooks.com oe : AD + begs