The Dead Father by Donald Barthelme
I applied for more time spreading the documents out before them.
A thing he had done for the love of me.
Will you let him see it?
Hours in this position thinking I would suppose.
Except for rats and insects, woodworms and squirrels.
I noticed a tall young man who was speaking to your husband.
Got him right between the shoulder blades.
Psychologically punishing.
When I try to speak to her about it she turns the conversation, yawns or giggles.
Parts of hero all over.
He made short work of them.
Scratches her ass, good ankles.
Anything else of that nature?
Hanging by the hair.
There was a man walking on the tops of cars.
Some way to save the situation.
True love affairs of a lifelong character.
Anything else of that nature?
Wake up one dark night with a puckle in your eye.
We chat.
About what?
That’s my business.
Then perhaps he regards you kindly.
Series of failed experiments.
You have performed well under difficult conditions.
Animals in which the brain strangles the esophagus.
Years not unmarked by hideous strains.
Willfully avoided gathering to myself the knowledge aforementioned.
And when not surly, pert.
The letter a failure but I mailed it nevertheless.
It’s wonderful and reduces the prison population too.
I was surprised to see him in this particular bar.
Very young he’s.
Parts of hero all over.
Many of them connected by legal or emotional ties.
Stares calmly at something a great distance away.
Clanging his balls for us.
Pop one of these if you’d like a little lift.
A ringbolt buried in the concrete, he tripped.
Embankments sewn with gracious blooms, heliotrope.
Not sure I understand what the issues are.
Do you want chocolate or strawberry?
Strawberry.
Strawberry’s best.
That’s your opinion.
Get a handle on it one way or the other.
Pressure has been continually building.
That’s your opinion.
Your hands and tongue.
Where do you like it?
An elegant way of disposing warning sirens.
I don’t think it’s so damn elegant.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.
Riding the two-legged horses.
Gimping off into the future.
Warmly refused on all sides.
File after file of wooden soldiers marching through a low doorway. Got their heads knocked off.
You and I talked about this once.
There was brought forth and placed before him by four strong men a beef properly cooked over the flames.
There’s just one thing a simple little rule.
Regarding their loved ones with hatred.
To partake of this al fresco party.
Where can a body get a pop around here?
Everyone was very enthusiastic.
He is a perpetual drudge restless in his thoughts.
He’s not bad-looking.
The reindeer, man, and snowflakes were cut.
Tears some meat from his breast and puts it on a bun.
You’re safe with me.
If this is what you believe you are wrong.
Dejected looks, flaggy beards, singing in the ears, old, wrinkled, harsh, much troubled with wind.
Everyone is very enthusiastic.
Darkening the skies above the walkers.
Poring over diaries and memoirs for clues to the past.
Most people conceal what they feel with great skill.
Not getting anywhere not making any progress.
God may surprise me.
Outside there’s bright sunlight on the snow.
Stumble at noon as in the twilight.
There’ll always be another chance tomorrow.
Hoping that this will reach you at a favorable moment.
Old coins, statues, rolls, edicts, manuscripts.
Colder weather coming and then warmer.
Not getting anywhere not making any progress.
Control is the motif.
That and splashes.
Photo …
19
Nine o’clock?
Ten o’clock.
I have to have bed check for the men at ten o’clock. What about eleven o’clock?
I think I can make eleven o’clock. Let me look in my book.
She looked in her book.
Eleven o’clock, then, she said, writing a note in her book. Under the trees?
Under the stars, said Thomas.
The trees, said Julie, looks like rain.
If no rain, then the stars, said Thomas. If rain, then the trees.
Or the hedge, said Julie. Wet and dripping. Mulchy.
What are you arranging? asked the Dead Father. Could it be an assignation?
Nothing, said Julie. Nothing you should concern yourself about, dear old soul.
The Dead Father flang himself to the ground.
But I should have everything! Me! I! Myself! I am the Father! Mine! Always was and always will be! From whom all blessings flow! To whom all blessings flow! Forever and ever and ever and ever! Amen! Beatissime Pater!
He is chewing the earth again, Julie observed. One would think he would tire of it.
Thomas began singing, in a good voice.
The Dead Father stopped chewing the earth.
That is one I like, he said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his golden robe.
For thine, Thomas sang, in a good voice, is the kingdom, and the power, and the glo-ree, for-EVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV-er …
That is one I like, said the Dead Father, I have always liked that one.
Thomas stopped singing.
By the way, he said, let me have your passport.
Why? asked the Dead Father.
I’ll take care of it for you.
I can take care of my own passport.
Many people lose or carelessly misplace their passports, Thomas said. I’ll take care of it for you.
Very kind of you but not necessary.
A lost or misplaced passport is a very serious matter. Many people are extremely careless with their passports especially older people.
I’ve always been very careful with my passport.
Especially older people who are sometimes vague or forgetful, a concomitant of advancing age.
Are you suggesting I’m becoming senile?
Ghastly look of the Dead Father.
Oh no, said Thomas. Not senile. Not for a moment. I just thought it might be better if I took care of your passport. We are crossing frontiers and all that. Let me have your passport.
No, said the Dead Father. I will not.
I knew an old person once who lost or misplaced his passport, said Thomas. Stopped by the border police, at a certain border, he could not find or locate his passport. There he was at the border station, frantic, digging through his suitcases, patting himself on the chest, turning out his pockets, and then back into the baggage. The amused tolerance of the border guards turning into impatience, others waiting behind him in line, assorted loafers and jeerers loafing and jeering. Not to mention members of his own party nervously drumming fingertips on every available surface. The entire group was forced to turn back and return to point of origin, all because this old coot had thought himself able to take care of his own passport.
The Dead Father reached inside his cloak and produced a worn green passport.
Thank you, said Thomas. You see? It’s bent.
Inspection of passport in which sundry creases were seeable.
<
br /> Only a little bent, said the Dead Father.
The individual’s passport is the property strictly speaking of the governing government and therefore should not be bent, even a little. A bent passport makes suspect the competence of the passport holder.
I don’t like this, said the Dead Father.
What? asked Julie. What, dear old man, don’t you like?
You are killing me.
We? Not we. Not in any sense we. Processes are killing you, not we. Inexorable processes.
Inexorable inapplicable in my case, said the Dead Father. Hopefully.
“Hopefully” cannot be used in that way, grammatically, said Thomas.
You are safe, dear old man, you are safe, temporarily, in the mansuetude of our care, Julie said.
The what?
The mansuetude that is to say mild gentleness of our care.
I am surrounded by creepy murderous pedants! the Dead Father shouted. Unbearable!
Thomas handed the Dead Father the pornographic comic book.
Now now, he said, no outbursts. Read this. It will keep you occupied.
I don’t want to be kept occupied, said the Dead Father. Children are kept occupied. I want to participate!
Not possible, said Thomas. Thank God for the pornographic comic book. Sit there and read it. Sit there with your back against that rock. Thank the Lord for what is given to you. Others have less. Here is a knapsack to place between your back and the rock. Here is a flashlight to read the pornographic comic book by. Edmund will bring your Ovaltine at ten. Count your blessings.
The trees. The stars. Each tree behaving well, each star behaving well. Perfume of nightscent.
Thomas lying on his back, cruciform.
Julie prowling the edges.
Julie kisses inside of Thomas’s left leg.
Thomas remains in Position A.
Julie kisses Thomas on the mouth.
Thomas remains in Position A.
Julie back on her haunches with a hand between her legs.
Thomas watching Julie’s hand.
Glistening in the hair between Julie’s legs.
Slight movement of Julie’s stomach.
Thomas watching Julie’s hand (neck craned to see).
Julie kissing underside of Thomas’s dipstick.
Cockalorum standing almost straight up but a bit of wavering.
Julie licks.
Pleasure of Thomas. Movement of Thomas’s hips.
Julie lights cigarette.
Thomas remains in Position A.
Julie smokes looking at Thomas.
Julie smokes with one hand (second finger) moving up and down between her legs.
Various movements on Thomas’s part. Trying to see.
Julie smokes. Offers cigarette to Thomas.
Thomas raises head, takes cigarette between lips. Two puffs.
Julie removes cigarette. Hand between legs.
Julie smokes looking at Thomas.
Thomas remains in Position A, as per the agreement.
Julie’s hand moving up and down between her legs.
Thomas staring at Julie’s hand.
Various movements on Thomas’s part—lurches, mostly.
One of Julie’s legs in the air.
Julie remaining just out of Thomas’s reach. Thomas cruciform, as per the agreement.
Thomas’s mowdiwort at 90 degree angle (roughly) to Thomas.
Julie sucks.
Thomas scratches nose with left hand, violating the agreement.
Julie’s breasts dipping this way and that, as she sucks.
Thomas stares at breasts, straining and craning.
Julie stands and moves second finger between legs, gazing at Thomas.
Thomas makes sucking sounds.
Julie kneels astride Thomas’s right leg, and rubs. Again and again and again.
Julie offers fingertips to Thomas, who licks.
Julie attends to Thomas’s gadso, which is at a 90 degree angle (roughly) to Thomas.
Julie lies on one elbow twelve inches from Thomas and sips a whiskey. Hand between her legs.
Thomas staring at her hand, at her buttocks, stomach muscles.
In-and-out of Julie’s stomach muscles. Hand between legs, eyes closed.
Thomas remains in Position A.
One of Julie’s legs waving in the air.
Julie stands and then squats. Presenting greens to Thomas’s cabbage tree.
Takes cabbage tree in hand. Use of cabbage tree as dildo.
Thomas staring at Julie’s face.
Thomas remains in Position A, so as not to violate the agreement.
Julie attends to Thomas’s bag-of-tricks for a long time.
Julie turns arsy-versy all cockalorum-kissing.
Thomas licks what there is to lick.
Happiness of Thomas. Happiness of Julie.
Movement of Julie’s buttocks, to the right, to the left, and so on.
A short aria of three notes.
And so on and so on and so on and so on.
* * *
What time is it? asked Julie.
Almost one, said Thomas.
How much further?
Almost there, Thomas said. A day’s journey, perhaps. Twenty-four hours at most.
Julie began to cry.
20
Thomas offered the Dead Father a document bound in blue paper.
What is it?
Read it, Thomas said.
It was a will.
It is a will, the Dead Father said, whose?
We thought it best that you take the precaution, Thomas said. Many people are inadequately prepared.
I don’t want to make a will, said the Dead Father.
No one wants to make a will, said Thomas. Still it is a prudent step that we thought you ought to take, in your wisdom.
My wisdom, said the Dead Father. Infinite. Unmatched. Still, I don’t want to make a will.
Prudence and wisdom being two of your strongest suits, Thomas said.
Dash my wig! said the Dead Father, I’ll not do it. I’m too young.
Thomas looked up into the sky.
Of course it’s entirely up to you, he said. If you wish to leave your affairs in rotten mishmashy cluttersome disarray …
I’m too young! the Dead Father said.
Of course you are, said Thomas, so are we all. Yet there is a vein in you that may pop at any time. I have identified it. Runs up the right leg and who knows, who knows where it wanders after it leaves the leg. Lurking potential embolisms menace it. I don’t want to frighten you, but you get the picture.
By the Holy Goat, the Dead Father said, I will not.
Thomas waved his hands in the air suggesting exhausted patience and disinterested pursuit of what-is-right.
Who shall I leave it to? the Dead Father asked. Who is worthy?
I should say, no one. Perhaps the nation. The first step is the inventory. Can you give me some idea of what the estate consists of?
Vast, said the Dead Father. I have no idea. Consult my steward.
Your steward has been let go, said Thomas.
Luke? Luke gone? On whose authority?
It was thought best, Thomas said.
Then who is looking after things?
I believe his name is Wilfred, Thomas said.
But Wilfred is not Luke, the Dead Father said.
Best we could manage, said Thomas. You have no idea at all as to the size of your holdings?
Oh I have some idea, said the Dead Father. He produced a small black pocket notebook.
You’re taking this down?
Thomas nodded.
The Dead Father cleared his throat.
Various lands in Saxony, he read aloud.
That’s rather vague, Thomas said.
Um, said the Dead Father unperturbed, so it is. Let me continue. Certificates of deposit totaling—
Totaling what? asked Thomas.
They are all separate and distinct figures with no
total listed, said the Dead Father. The sum would appear to be quite large, could one add it.
He turned a page.
A nut-brown maid, he read. Regina. The stereo. A pair of chatterpies. My ravens. A parcel of rental properties. Eleven rogue elephants. One albino. My cellar. Twelve thousand bottles more or less. Lithographs to be swallowed for sickness. Two hundred examples. My print collection, nine thousand items. My sword.
Your sword is gone, Thomas noted.
My sword is gone, said the Dead Father, but I have a spare sword, back in the city. My second-best sword. Jeweled hilt and all that.
A field of flowers outside Darmstadt. Wrinkleflowers. My greenhouses and potting sheds. Wilfred will know. Portrait busts of myself by Houdon, Minque, Planck, and Bowdoin. My napkin rings. Four thousand volumes of cabalistic literature. Cycladic figures to the number of one hundred eighteen. My gouges. The straight gouge, short bent gouge, long bent gouge, V gouge, U gouge, 5/32″ gouge, 3/8″ gouge. Four skew chisels. My box at the opera. My Bennie Moten records. My Thonet rocking chair. The regiment.
To whom will you leave the regiment?
Do you want it?
What would I do with the regiment? Thomas asked.
Parade it. Have regimental dinners. Fold and unfold the colors. Defend frontiers. Push into the Punjab.
Let us table the question, for the time being, said Thomas. Is there more?
Much, much, more, said the Dead Father, but let us lump it together under “incidentals.” Do you want Regina?
Never having met the lady, Thomas said, I would say not. Also I am a witness and a witness cannot be a beneficiary. I do not wish to profit from this transaction in any way. I only wish to have everything tidy.
Tidy, said the Dead Father, what a way of putting it.
Julie will be a witness and Emma will be a witness and one of the men is, I have learned, a notary.
I shall place the regiment in trust for itself, said the Dead Father. That should take care of it. Have you the form?
Yes, Thomas said. Shall I read it?
Read it.
“This Trust is created upon the express understanding that the issuer, custodian, or transfer agent of any shares held hereunder shall be under no liability whatsoever to see to its proper administration…”
That’s the way it begins?
No, it begins with a “Whereas.” I’m reading you the part that doesn’t sound right.
Read on.
“… and that upon the transfer of the right, title, interest in and to such shares by any trustee hereunder, said issuer, custodian, or transfer agent shall conclusively treat the transferee as the sole owner of such shares. In the event that any shares, cash or other property—”
A thing he had done for the love of me.
Will you let him see it?
Hours in this position thinking I would suppose.
Except for rats and insects, woodworms and squirrels.
I noticed a tall young man who was speaking to your husband.
Got him right between the shoulder blades.
Psychologically punishing.
When I try to speak to her about it she turns the conversation, yawns or giggles.
Parts of hero all over.
He made short work of them.
Scratches her ass, good ankles.
Anything else of that nature?
Hanging by the hair.
There was a man walking on the tops of cars.
Some way to save the situation.
True love affairs of a lifelong character.
Anything else of that nature?
Wake up one dark night with a puckle in your eye.
We chat.
About what?
That’s my business.
Then perhaps he regards you kindly.
Series of failed experiments.
You have performed well under difficult conditions.
Animals in which the brain strangles the esophagus.
Years not unmarked by hideous strains.
Willfully avoided gathering to myself the knowledge aforementioned.
And when not surly, pert.
The letter a failure but I mailed it nevertheless.
It’s wonderful and reduces the prison population too.
I was surprised to see him in this particular bar.
Very young he’s.
Parts of hero all over.
Many of them connected by legal or emotional ties.
Stares calmly at something a great distance away.
Clanging his balls for us.
Pop one of these if you’d like a little lift.
A ringbolt buried in the concrete, he tripped.
Embankments sewn with gracious blooms, heliotrope.
Not sure I understand what the issues are.
Do you want chocolate or strawberry?
Strawberry.
Strawberry’s best.
That’s your opinion.
Get a handle on it one way or the other.
Pressure has been continually building.
That’s your opinion.
Your hands and tongue.
Where do you like it?
An elegant way of disposing warning sirens.
I don’t think it’s so damn elegant.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.
Riding the two-legged horses.
Gimping off into the future.
Warmly refused on all sides.
File after file of wooden soldiers marching through a low doorway. Got their heads knocked off.
You and I talked about this once.
There was brought forth and placed before him by four strong men a beef properly cooked over the flames.
There’s just one thing a simple little rule.
Regarding their loved ones with hatred.
To partake of this al fresco party.
Where can a body get a pop around here?
Everyone was very enthusiastic.
He is a perpetual drudge restless in his thoughts.
He’s not bad-looking.
The reindeer, man, and snowflakes were cut.
Tears some meat from his breast and puts it on a bun.
You’re safe with me.
If this is what you believe you are wrong.
Dejected looks, flaggy beards, singing in the ears, old, wrinkled, harsh, much troubled with wind.
Everyone is very enthusiastic.
Darkening the skies above the walkers.
Poring over diaries and memoirs for clues to the past.
Most people conceal what they feel with great skill.
Not getting anywhere not making any progress.
God may surprise me.
Outside there’s bright sunlight on the snow.
Stumble at noon as in the twilight.
There’ll always be another chance tomorrow.
Hoping that this will reach you at a favorable moment.
Old coins, statues, rolls, edicts, manuscripts.
Colder weather coming and then warmer.
Not getting anywhere not making any progress.
Control is the motif.
That and splashes.
Photo …
19
Nine o’clock?
Ten o’clock.
I have to have bed check for the men at ten o’clock. What about eleven o’clock?
I think I can make eleven o’clock. Let me look in my book.
She looked in her book.
Eleven o’clock, then, she said, writing a note in her book. Under the trees?
Under the stars, said Thomas.
The trees, said Julie, looks like rain.
If no rain, then the stars, said Thomas. If rain, then the trees.
Or the hedge, said Julie. Wet and dripping. Mulchy.
What are you arranging? asked the Dead Father. Could it be an assignation?
Nothing, said Julie. Nothing you should concern yourself about, dear old soul.
The Dead Father flang himself to the ground.
But I should have everything! Me! I! Myself! I am the Father! Mine! Always was and always will be! From whom all blessings flow! To whom all blessings flow! Forever and ever and ever and ever! Amen! Beatissime Pater!
He is chewing the earth again, Julie observed. One would think he would tire of it.
Thomas began singing, in a good voice.
The Dead Father stopped chewing the earth.
That is one I like, he said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his golden robe.
For thine, Thomas sang, in a good voice, is the kingdom, and the power, and the glo-ree, for-EVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV-er …
That is one I like, said the Dead Father, I have always liked that one.
Thomas stopped singing.
By the way, he said, let me have your passport.
Why? asked the Dead Father.
I’ll take care of it for you.
I can take care of my own passport.
Many people lose or carelessly misplace their passports, Thomas said. I’ll take care of it for you.
Very kind of you but not necessary.
A lost or misplaced passport is a very serious matter. Many people are extremely careless with their passports especially older people.
I’ve always been very careful with my passport.
Especially older people who are sometimes vague or forgetful, a concomitant of advancing age.
Are you suggesting I’m becoming senile?
Ghastly look of the Dead Father.
Oh no, said Thomas. Not senile. Not for a moment. I just thought it might be better if I took care of your passport. We are crossing frontiers and all that. Let me have your passport.
No, said the Dead Father. I will not.
I knew an old person once who lost or misplaced his passport, said Thomas. Stopped by the border police, at a certain border, he could not find or locate his passport. There he was at the border station, frantic, digging through his suitcases, patting himself on the chest, turning out his pockets, and then back into the baggage. The amused tolerance of the border guards turning into impatience, others waiting behind him in line, assorted loafers and jeerers loafing and jeering. Not to mention members of his own party nervously drumming fingertips on every available surface. The entire group was forced to turn back and return to point of origin, all because this old coot had thought himself able to take care of his own passport.
The Dead Father reached inside his cloak and produced a worn green passport.
Thank you, said Thomas. You see? It’s bent.
Inspection of passport in which sundry creases were seeable.
<
The individual’s passport is the property strictly speaking of the governing government and therefore should not be bent, even a little. A bent passport makes suspect the competence of the passport holder.
I don’t like this, said the Dead Father.
What? asked Julie. What, dear old man, don’t you like?
You are killing me.
We? Not we. Not in any sense we. Processes are killing you, not we. Inexorable processes.
Inexorable inapplicable in my case, said the Dead Father. Hopefully.
“Hopefully” cannot be used in that way, grammatically, said Thomas.
You are safe, dear old man, you are safe, temporarily, in the mansuetude of our care, Julie said.
The what?
The mansuetude that is to say mild gentleness of our care.
I am surrounded by creepy murderous pedants! the Dead Father shouted. Unbearable!
Thomas handed the Dead Father the pornographic comic book.
Now now, he said, no outbursts. Read this. It will keep you occupied.
I don’t want to be kept occupied, said the Dead Father. Children are kept occupied. I want to participate!
Not possible, said Thomas. Thank God for the pornographic comic book. Sit there and read it. Sit there with your back against that rock. Thank the Lord for what is given to you. Others have less. Here is a knapsack to place between your back and the rock. Here is a flashlight to read the pornographic comic book by. Edmund will bring your Ovaltine at ten. Count your blessings.
The trees. The stars. Each tree behaving well, each star behaving well. Perfume of nightscent.
Thomas lying on his back, cruciform.
Julie prowling the edges.
Julie kisses inside of Thomas’s left leg.
Thomas remains in Position A.
Julie kisses Thomas on the mouth.
Thomas remains in Position A.
Julie back on her haunches with a hand between her legs.
Thomas watching Julie’s hand.
Glistening in the hair between Julie’s legs.
Slight movement of Julie’s stomach.
Thomas watching Julie’s hand (neck craned to see).
Julie kissing underside of Thomas’s dipstick.
Cockalorum standing almost straight up but a bit of wavering.
Julie licks.
Pleasure of Thomas. Movement of Thomas’s hips.
Julie lights cigarette.
Thomas remains in Position A.
Julie smokes looking at Thomas.
Julie smokes with one hand (second finger) moving up and down between her legs.
Various movements on Thomas’s part. Trying to see.
Julie smokes. Offers cigarette to Thomas.
Thomas raises head, takes cigarette between lips. Two puffs.
Julie removes cigarette. Hand between legs.
Julie smokes looking at Thomas.
Thomas remains in Position A, as per the agreement.
Julie’s hand moving up and down between her legs.
Thomas staring at Julie’s hand.
Various movements on Thomas’s part—lurches, mostly.
One of Julie’s legs in the air.
Julie remaining just out of Thomas’s reach. Thomas cruciform, as per the agreement.
Thomas’s mowdiwort at 90 degree angle (roughly) to Thomas.
Julie sucks.
Thomas scratches nose with left hand, violating the agreement.
Julie’s breasts dipping this way and that, as she sucks.
Thomas stares at breasts, straining and craning.
Julie stands and moves second finger between legs, gazing at Thomas.
Thomas makes sucking sounds.
Julie kneels astride Thomas’s right leg, and rubs. Again and again and again.
Julie offers fingertips to Thomas, who licks.
Julie attends to Thomas’s gadso, which is at a 90 degree angle (roughly) to Thomas.
Julie lies on one elbow twelve inches from Thomas and sips a whiskey. Hand between her legs.
Thomas staring at her hand, at her buttocks, stomach muscles.
In-and-out of Julie’s stomach muscles. Hand between legs, eyes closed.
Thomas remains in Position A.
One of Julie’s legs waving in the air.
Julie stands and then squats. Presenting greens to Thomas’s cabbage tree.
Takes cabbage tree in hand. Use of cabbage tree as dildo.
Thomas staring at Julie’s face.
Thomas remains in Position A, so as not to violate the agreement.
Julie attends to Thomas’s bag-of-tricks for a long time.
Julie turns arsy-versy all cockalorum-kissing.
Thomas licks what there is to lick.
Happiness of Thomas. Happiness of Julie.
Movement of Julie’s buttocks, to the right, to the left, and so on.
A short aria of three notes.
And so on and so on and so on and so on.
* * *
What time is it? asked Julie.
Almost one, said Thomas.
How much further?
Almost there, Thomas said. A day’s journey, perhaps. Twenty-four hours at most.
Julie began to cry.
20
Thomas offered the Dead Father a document bound in blue paper.
What is it?
Read it, Thomas said.
It was a will.
It is a will, the Dead Father said, whose?
We thought it best that you take the precaution, Thomas said. Many people are inadequately prepared.
I don’t want to make a will, said the Dead Father.
No one wants to make a will, said Thomas. Still it is a prudent step that we thought you ought to take, in your wisdom.
My wisdom, said the Dead Father. Infinite. Unmatched. Still, I don’t want to make a will.
Prudence and wisdom being two of your strongest suits, Thomas said.
Dash my wig! said the Dead Father, I’ll not do it. I’m too young.
Thomas looked up into the sky.
Of course it’s entirely up to you, he said. If you wish to leave your affairs in rotten mishmashy cluttersome disarray …
I’m too young! the Dead Father said.
Of course you are, said Thomas, so are we all. Yet there is a vein in you that may pop at any time. I have identified it. Runs up the right leg and who knows, who knows where it wanders after it leaves the leg. Lurking potential embolisms menace it. I don’t want to frighten you, but you get the picture.
By the Holy Goat, the Dead Father said, I will not.
Thomas waved his hands in the air suggesting exhausted patience and disinterested pursuit of what-is-right.
Who shall I leave it to? the Dead Father asked. Who is worthy?
I should say, no one. Perhaps the nation. The first step is the inventory. Can you give me some idea of what the estate consists of?
Vast, said the Dead Father. I have no idea. Consult my steward.
Your steward has been let go, said Thomas.
Luke? Luke gone? On whose authority?
It was thought best, Thomas said.
Then who is looking after things?
I believe his name is Wilfred, Thomas said.
But Wilfred is not Luke, the Dead Father said.
Best we could manage, said Thomas. You have no idea at all as to the size of your holdings?
Oh I have some idea, said the Dead Father. He produced a small black pocket notebook.
You’re taking this down?
Thomas nodded.
The Dead Father cleared his throat.
Various lands in Saxony, he read aloud.
That’s rather vague, Thomas said.
Um, said the Dead Father unperturbed, so it is. Let me continue. Certificates of deposit totaling—
Totaling what? asked Thomas.
They are all separate and distinct figures with no
He turned a page.
A nut-brown maid, he read. Regina. The stereo. A pair of chatterpies. My ravens. A parcel of rental properties. Eleven rogue elephants. One albino. My cellar. Twelve thousand bottles more or less. Lithographs to be swallowed for sickness. Two hundred examples. My print collection, nine thousand items. My sword.
Your sword is gone, Thomas noted.
My sword is gone, said the Dead Father, but I have a spare sword, back in the city. My second-best sword. Jeweled hilt and all that.
A field of flowers outside Darmstadt. Wrinkleflowers. My greenhouses and potting sheds. Wilfred will know. Portrait busts of myself by Houdon, Minque, Planck, and Bowdoin. My napkin rings. Four thousand volumes of cabalistic literature. Cycladic figures to the number of one hundred eighteen. My gouges. The straight gouge, short bent gouge, long bent gouge, V gouge, U gouge, 5/32″ gouge, 3/8″ gouge. Four skew chisels. My box at the opera. My Bennie Moten records. My Thonet rocking chair. The regiment.
To whom will you leave the regiment?
Do you want it?
What would I do with the regiment? Thomas asked.
Parade it. Have regimental dinners. Fold and unfold the colors. Defend frontiers. Push into the Punjab.
Let us table the question, for the time being, said Thomas. Is there more?
Much, much, more, said the Dead Father, but let us lump it together under “incidentals.” Do you want Regina?
Never having met the lady, Thomas said, I would say not. Also I am a witness and a witness cannot be a beneficiary. I do not wish to profit from this transaction in any way. I only wish to have everything tidy.
Tidy, said the Dead Father, what a way of putting it.
Julie will be a witness and Emma will be a witness and one of the men is, I have learned, a notary.
I shall place the regiment in trust for itself, said the Dead Father. That should take care of it. Have you the form?
Yes, Thomas said. Shall I read it?
Read it.
“This Trust is created upon the express understanding that the issuer, custodian, or transfer agent of any shares held hereunder shall be under no liability whatsoever to see to its proper administration…”
That’s the way it begins?
No, it begins with a “Whereas.” I’m reading you the part that doesn’t sound right.
Read on.
“… and that upon the transfer of the right, title, interest in and to such shares by any trustee hereunder, said issuer, custodian, or transfer agent shall conclusively treat the transferee as the sole owner of such shares. In the event that any shares, cash or other property—”