Chicks - The Chick Is In The Mail Part 3

They'd give beer to anine -year-old, they really would. If he asked for it, I mean.

So I got a beer, and the guy sitting next to me at the bar was eating a sandwich that didn't look too lousy-it had some kind of sausage and pickles in it-so I pointed to that and told the bartender, "Give me one of those, too." Maybe it was really chopped-up pigs' ears or something, but I didn'tknow it was, so it was all right if I didn't think about it too much. The guy behind the bar figured out what I meant and started making one for me.

I'd just taken a big old bite-it wasn't terrific but I could stand it, pigs' ears or not-when the fellow sitting next to me on theother side spoke up and said to me in English, "You are an American, yes?"

If you want to know the truth, it made me kind of angry. Here I wa.s.starv ing to death, and this guy wanted to strike up a conversation. I didn't want to talk. I wanted to eat, even if it didn't taste so good.

So with my mouth full, rude as anything, I said "Yeah" and then I took another bite, even bigger than the first one.

He didn't get mad. I'd hoped he would, I really had, but no such luck. He was a very smooth, very polite guy. He was a little flitty-looking, as a matter of fact-not too, but a little. Enough to make you wonder, anyhow. He said, "We do not often Americans in Isenstein have." He talked that way on account of he was foreign, I guess. I took another bite out of this sandwich-it probablywas pigs' ears, it sure tasted like what you'd think pigs' ears'd taste like-and he asked me, "What is your name?"

So I told him, and he d.a.m.n near-I meand.a.m.n near-fell off his chair. "Hagen Kriemhild?" he said.

Boy, he must've had cabbages in his ears or something, even if I was still kind of talking with my mouth full. "HagenKriemhild ?"

"No," I said, and told him again, this time after I'd swallowed and everything, so he couldn't foul it up even if he tried. "Ah," he said. "Ach so," which I guess is like "okay" in German. "Never mind. It is close enough."

"Close enough for what?" I said, but he didn't answer me right away. He just sat there looking at me. He looked veryintense , if you know what I mean, like he was thinking a mile a minute. I couldn't very well ask him what the h.e.l.l he was thinking about, either, because people always lie to you when you do that, or else they get mad. So instead I said, "What'syour name?" You can't go wrong with that, hardly.

He blinked. He really did-his eyes went blink, blink. It was like he'd forgotten I was there, he'd been thinking so G.o.ddam hard. He'd been thinking like a madman, I swear to G.o.d he had. Blink, blink-he did it again. It was crumby to watch, honest. I didn't think he was going to tell me his lousy old name, but he did. He said, "I am called Regin Fafnirsbruder."

Well, Jesus Christ, if you think I eventried to say that like he said it, you're crazy. I just said "Pleased to meetcha" and I stuck out my hand. I'm too polite for my own good sometimes, I really am.

Old Regin Fafnirsbruder shook hands with me. He didn't shake hands like a flit, I have to admit it. He said, "Come with me. I will you things in Isenstein show that no American has ever seen."

"Can't I finish my sandwich first?" I said-and I didn't even want that crumby old sandwich any more.

Isn't that a h.e.l.l of a thing?

He shook his head like he would drop dead if I took one more bite. So I went bottoms-up with my beer-they makegood beer in Germany, and I wasn't about to letthat go to waste-and out of there we went.

"Whaddaya got?" I said. "Is it-a girl?" Could you be a pimp and a flit at the same time? Would you have any fun if you were? I always wonder about crazy stuff like that. If you're gonna wonder about crazy stuff, you might as well wonder abouts.e.xy crazy stuff, you know what I mean?

"A girl,ja . Like none you have ever met." Old Regin Fafnirsbruder's head went up and down like it was on a spring. "And also other things." He looked back over his shoulder at me, to make sure I was still following him, I guess. His eyes were big and round as silver dollars. I'm not making things up, they honest to G.o.d were. So help me.

"Listen," I said, "it's been nice knowing you and everything, but I think I ought to get back to my boat now."

He didn't listen to a word I said. He just kept going, out of Isenstein-which wasn't very hard, because it's not a real big town or anything-and toward that tumbledown castle on the crag I already told you about. And I kept walking along after him. To tell you the truth, I didn'twant to go back to the boat, or to the smelly old Rhine. The farther away from there I got the better, you bet.

All of a sudden, these really thick gray clouds started rolling in, just covering up the whole G.o.ddam sky.

It hadn't been any too gorgeous out before, b.u.t.these clouds looked like they meant business, no kidding.

"Hey," I said, kind of loud so old Regin Fafnirsbruder would be sure to hear me. "You got an umbrella?

It looks like it's gonna pour."

"Ja," he said over his shoulder. Yeah it was gonna pour or yeah he had an umbrella? It wasn't like he told me, for crying out loud, the stupid moron. I'll tell you,I didn't have any umbrella. Jesus Christ, I didn't even have a crumbyhat . And my crew cut is so short, it's like I don't have any hair at all up there, and when it rains the water that hits on top of my head all runs down right into my face, and that's veryannoying, it really is. It's annoying as h.e.l.l.

But old Regin Fafnirsbruder started up this crag toward the tumbledown old crumby ruin of a castle, and I kept on following him. By then I was feeling kind of like a G.o.ddam moron myself. I was also panting like anything. I haven't got any wind at all, on account of I smoke like a madman. I smoke like a G.o.ddam chim ney, if you want to know the truth.

Sure as h.e.l.l, it started to rain. I knew it would. Itold old Regin Fafnirsbruder it would, but did he listen to me? n.o.body listens to you, I swear to G.o.d it's the truth. This big old raindrop hit me right square in the eye, so I couldn't see anything for a second or two, and I almost fell off this lousy little path we were walking on, and I would've broken my d.a.m.n neck if I had, too, because it was acrag , remember, and steeper than h.e.l.l every which way.

"Hey!" I yelled. "Slow down!"

That's when the biggest G.o.ddam lightning bolt you ever imagined smashed into me and everything went black, like they say in the movies.

When I woke up, there was old Regin Fafnirsbruder leaning over me, almost close enough to give me a kiss. "You are all right, Hagen Kriemhild?" he asked, all anxious like I was his son or something. I think I'd kill myself if I was, I really do.

"I told you, that's not my name." I was pretty mad that he'd taken me all this way and he couldn't even bother to remember my crumby old name. It's not like it's Joe Doakes or John Smith so you'd forget it in a hurry. I sat up. I didn't want to keep laying there on account of he might try something flitty if he thought I couldn't do anything about it or anything. "What the h.e.l.l happened?"

Right then was when I noticed things had started turning crazy. Old Regin Fafnirsbruder had asked me how I was in this language that wasn't English, and I hadn't just understood him, I'dan swered him in it, for Chrissake. Isn't that gorgeous? I figured the lightning had fried my brains but good or something.

Then I realized it wasn't raining any more. There wasn't a cloud in the G.o.ddamsky , as a matter of fact.

Not even one. It was about as sunny a day as old Isenstein ever gets, I bet.

I took a deep breath. I was gonna say "What the h.e.l.l happened?" again-old Regin Fafnirsbruder hadn't told me or anything-but I didn't. And the reason I didn't is that the breath I took didn't stink. With the nasty old Rhine running right by it, the air in Isenstein always smelled like somebody just laid the biggest fart in the world right under your nose.

But it didn't, not any more. It smelled like gra.s.s and water-cleanwater-and pine trees, almost like one of those little air freshener things, if you know what I mean. Too good to be true. It wasn't one of those, though, on account of I could smell cows and pigs and horses, too, somewhere way the h.e.l.l off in the distance. It was like I wasn't by a town any more, like I'd gone off into the country. But I was still sitting right where that old lightning bolt had clobbered me.

Old Regin Fafnirsbruder started dancing around. I'm not kidding, he really did. He had this grin on his face like he was drunk, and he was kind of halfway between doing an Indian war dance and jitterbugging. Watching the old sonuvab.i.t.c.h shake his can like that was pretty d.a.m.n funny, it really was.

"I did it!" he yelled, not keeping time with his feet or anything. "My magic worked!" He still wasn'tspeaking English, but I understood him okay.

"c.r.a.p," I said. Actually, I didn't say "c.r.a.p," actually, but what I said meant the same thing as c.r.a.p, so that was all right. "What do you mean, your magic?"

He still didn't answer me. He was too busy dancing and hollering and having a high old time. He was a very self-centered guy, old Regin Fafnirsbruder was, egocentric as h.e.l.l. It made him a real pain in the a.s.s to talk to, to tell you the truth.

"What do youmean , your crumby magic?" I said again. I hate it when I have to repeat myself, I really do.

Finally, he remembered I was there. "Look!" he said, and he gave this wave like he was in the lousiest, corniest movie ever made. I swear to G.o.d, this wave was so G.o.ddam big that he almost fell off the side of the mountain himself.

So I looked. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but I finally went and did. I looked back over my shoulder, and I almost felt like the lightning plowed into me all over again. There was the Rhine, all right, like it was supposed to be, only it was blue, blue as the sky, bluerthan the G.o.ddam sky, not the color the water in a toilet bowl is when somebody gets therejust in the nick of time. No wonder it didn't stink any more.

And somebody'd taken old Isenstein and stuck it in his back pocket. Instead of a real town, there were these maybe ten houses by the riverside, and they all had roofs made out of straw or something. So maybe old Regin Fafnirsbruderhad worked magic. If he hadn't, what the h.e.l.l had he done? I didn't know then and I still don't know now.

When I got done gawking at Isenstein-it took me a while, believe me-I looked up to the crumby old tumbledown castle at the top of the crag. There it was, all right, big as life, but it wasn't crumby or old or tumbledown any more. What it looked like was, it looked like somebody built it day before yesterday.

There wasn't a single stone missing-not even a pebble, I swear-and all the edges were so sharp you could've cut yourself on 'em. Maybe not even day before yesterday. Maybe yesterday, and I mean yesterday afternoon.

Oh, and there was this ring of fire all the way around the castle. I didn't see anything burning up, but I sure as h.e.l.l saw the flames. I heard 'em, too-they crackled like the ones in your fireplace do, only these were ten or twenty times as big. When I was a little kid, I had this book about Paul Bunyan and Babe the giant Blue Ox. It was a pretty crumby book with really stupid pictures, but I remembered it right then anyway on account of if old Babe had tried to walk through those flames, he'd've been short ribs and steaks in nothing flat, and I mean well-done.

"Now shall you your destiny fulfill." I already told you old Regin Fafnirsbruder talked like that sometimes. He did it even when he wasn't speaking English. He wasn't much of a conversationalist, old Regin Fafnirsbruder wasn't.

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?" I said. "And where the h.e.l.l did Isenstein go, anyway?"

"That is Isenstein, Isenstein as it is now," he said, and then a whole lot of weird stuff I didn't understand at all, and what language he was talking in didn't matter a G.o.ddam bit. Time flows and sorceries and I don't know what. It all sounded pretty much like a bunch of c.r.a.p to me. It would've sounded even more like a bunch of c.r.a.p if I hadn't kept looking back at that little handful of houses where old Isenstein usedto be. Then he pointed up the hill. "You shall to the castle go. You shall through the flames pa.s.s. You shall the s.h.i.+eld-maiden Brunhild asleep there find. You shall with a kiss her awaken, and you shall with her happily ever after live."

"Oh, yeah?" I said, and he nodded. Just like before, his head bobbed up and down, up and down, like it was on a spring. If he wasn't the biggest madman in the world, I don't know who was. But he was calling the shots, too. I may not apply myself too much-people always go on and on that I'm notapply ing my G.o.ddam self till I'm about ready to puke sometimes-but I'm not stupid. I'm really not. Old Regin Fafnirsbruder knew what he was doing here, and I didn't have the faintest idea. So I figured I'd better play along for a while, anyway, till I could figure out what the h.e.l.l was going on.

"Go to the castle up," he said. "You will it is all as I have said see."

I went on up. Now he followed me. Like I said before, the old castle looked so new, it might've just come out of its box or something. Sure as h.e.l.l, the fire went all the way around the G.o.ddam place. The closer I got, the more it felt like fire, too. I pointed to it. I made d.a.m.n sure I didn't touch it or anything, though, you bet. "How the h.e.l.l am I supposed to get through that, huh?"

"Just walk through. You will not harmed be. My magic a.s.sures it."

"Oh, yeah?" I said. Old Regin Fafnirsbruder's head bobbed up and down some more. He looked pretty stupid, he really did. "Oh,yeah ?" I said. He kept right on nodding. "Prove it," I said to him. "You're such a madman of a wizard and everything, let's seeyou go on through there without ending up charbroiled."

All of a sudden, he wasn't nodding so much any more. "The spell is not for me. The spell cannot for me be," he said. "The spell is for you and for you alone."

I laughed at him. "I think you're yellow, is what I think." I figured that'd make him mad. If somebody's a coward, what's he gonna hate more than somebody else coming out andtell ing him he's a coward, right?

I guess it worked. I guess it worked a little too G.o.ddam well, if you want to know the truth. Because what happened was, old Regin Fafnirsbruder came up and gave me a push, and hepushed me right into those old flames.

I screamed. I screamed like h.e.l.l, as a matter of fact. But I didn't burn up or anything-he was right about that. The fire felt hot, but hot like suns.h.i.+ne, not hot like fire. It hurt a lot more when I fell on my a.s.s from the push, it honestly did.

"What'd you go and dothat for, you G.o.ddam moron?" I yelled, and then I started to go onout through the fire. I didn't get very G.o.ddam far, though. It wasn't just hot like suns.h.i.+ne any more, let me tell you. It burned the tip of my shoe when I stuck it in there, and it would've burned the rest enough, too, if I'd been dumb enough to give it a chance.

Old Regin Fafnirsbruder was laughing his a.s.s off watching me looking at my toasted toe. "You must what I want do," he said. "Then will you what you want get. When you come out with Brunhild, you may through the fire pa.s.s. Until then, you must there stay."

"You dirty, filthy, stinking G.o.ddam moron," I said. "I hope you drown in the G.o.ddam Rhine."

He just ignored me, the lousy sonuvab.i.t.c.h. He had no consideration, old Regin Fafnirsbruder didn't. I started up toward the fire again, but I didn't stick my foot in it this time-you bet I didn't. I sat down onthe ground. I felt so depressed, you can't imagine how depressed I felt.

But after a while I stood up again. What can you do when you're just sitting around on your b.u.t.t and all?

I thought I'd get up and look around a little, anyway. So I did that, and I came to this door. I opened it-what the h.e.l.l? At least old Regin Fafnirsbruder couldn't keep staring at me through the flames any more. And after I went through, I slammed the h.e.l.l out of that old door. To tell you the truth, I kind of hoped I'd break it right off the hinges, but no such luck.

I thought I'd end up in this big old hall full of guys making pigs of themselves and getting stinking and pinching the serving girls on the b.u.t.t the way they did back in medieval times, but that isn't what ended up happening. I walked into this little-bedroom, I guess you'd call it, but it wasn't a bed this girl was laying on, it was more like a little sofa or something.

She was kind of cute, as a matter of fact, if you like big husky blondes. But I'd never seen a girl in chainmail before. To tell you the truth, I'd never seenany body in chainmail before, and sure as h.e.l.l not anybody sleeping. It looked uncomfortable, it really did.

She had on a helmet, too, and a sword on a belt around her waist, and this s.h.i.+eld was leaning up against the bed or sofa or whatever the h.e.l.l it was. I stood there for a while like a crumby old moron. In the fairy tales you're supposed to kiss the princess, right, and she'll wake up and you'll both live happily ever after.

That was what old Regin Fafnirsbruder had told me would happen, but you'd have to be a real moron not to see he was playing the game for him and n.o.body else. And if I kissed this girl and she didn't happen to like it or she thought I was trying to get fresh with her or something, she was liable tomur der me, for Chrissake.

I wished I could've figured out some other way to get out of there. I hate doing what anybody else tells me to do. I hate it like anything, if you want to know the truth. Even when it's for my own good and everything, I still hate it. It's n.o.body's G.o.ddam business but mine what I do. Not that anybody listens to me. Yeah, fat chance of that. You think old Regin Fafnirsbruder gave a d.a.m.n about what I thought? Fat chance of that, too.

But I was stuck in this old castle. I was stuck really bad. If Brunhild there couldn't get me the h.e.l.l out, who could? n.o.body. Just n.o.body. So I leaned down and I gave her this little tiny kiss, just like itwas a fairy tale or something.

Her eyes opened. I'd expected they would be blue-don't ask me why, except she was a blonde and all-but they were brown. She looked at me like I was dirt and n.o.body'd invented brooms yet. Then she said, "You are not Siegfried. Where is Siegfried?" She spoke the same language as old Regin Fafnirsbruder, whatever the h.e.l.l it was.

"I dunno," I said. I bet I sounded really smart. I sounded like a G.o.ddam moron, is what I sounded like.

"Who's Siegfried?"

Her face went all soft and mushy-like. You wouldn't think anybody who was wearing armor could look so sappy, but old Brunhild did. "He is my love, my husband to be," she said. Then she sort of frowned, like she'd forgotten I was there and was all of a sudden remembering-and she didn't look any too G.o.ddam happy about it, either. "Or he was to have been my husband. The man who came through the fire can claim my hand, if he so desires."

I've always been backa.s.swards with girls. Here she was practically saying she'dlet me give her the time, but did that make me want to do it? Like h.e.l.l it did. What it did was, it scared the c.r.a.p out of me. I said,"I don't want to marryany body, for crying out loud. I just want to get the h.e.l.l outa here, if you want to know the truth."

Brunhild thought about that for a couple seconds. Then she sat up. The chainmail made little clink-clank noises when she moved-molding itself to her shape, you know? She had a h.e.l.l of a shape, too, I have to admit it. A really nice set of knockers.

"What is your name?" she said, so I told her. Just like old Regin Fafnirsbruder's had, her eyes got big.

"Hagen Kriemhild?"

If you really want to know, I was getting pretty G.o.ddam tired of that. I said it again, the right way, louder this time, like you would to somebody who was pretty dumb.

But it went right by her. I could tell. Old Brunhild wasn't much for intellectual conversation. She said, "How came you here, Hagen Kriemhild?"

"That's a G.o.ddam good question." I explained it as well as I could. It sounded crazy as h.e.l.l even tome , and I'd been through it. She was gonna think I'd gone right off the deep end.

Only she didn't. When I finally got through, old Brunhild said, "Regin Fafnirsbruder is an evil man. How not, when Fafnir his brother is an evil worm? But I shall settle with him. You need have no doubt of that."

She stood up. She was almost as tall as I was, which surprised me, because I have a lot of heighth and she was a girl and everything. But she really was, so help me G.o.d. She took out her sword. It went wheep when it came out of the old scabbard, and the blade kind of glowed even though the bedroom wasn't what you'd call bright or anything.

"What are you gonna do with that thing?" I said, which has to be one of the stupidest G.o.ddam questions of all time. Sometimes I scare myself, I really do. Am I a G.o.ddam moron, too, just like everybody else?

But old Brunhild took it just like any other question. "I am going to punish him for what he did to me, for this humiliation. Come with me, Hagen Kriemhild, and guard my back. He has besmirched your honor as well as mine."

I don't know what the h.e.l.l she thought I was gonna guard her backwith . I had some German money in my pocket, and my traveler's checks and all, and a little leftover French money I'd forgotten to change, and that was about it. I didn't even have apock et knife, for crying out loud, and I'm not what you'd call the bravest guy in the world anyhow. I'm pretty much of a chicken, if you want to know the truth. But I followed old Brunhild outa there just the same. If she could get out through the fire, maybe I could too. I hoped like h.e.l.l I could, anyway.

There was old Regin Fafnirsbruder on the other side of the flames. He gave Brunhild the phoniest bow you ever saw in your life. "So good you to see," he said. What he sounded like was, he sounded like the headwaiter at this fancy restaurant where all the rich phonies and all their whory-looking girlfriends go to eat and he has to be nice and suck up to the sonsuvb.i.t.c.hes all day long even though he hates their stinking guts. "Does your bridegroom you please?" He laughed this really dirty laugh. Pimpswish they could laugh the way old Regin Fafnirsbruder laughed right then, honest to G.o.d.

Old Brunhild started yelling and cussing and whooping and hollering like you wouldn't believe. She started waving that G.o.ddam sword around, too. She wasn't verycare ful with it, either-she d.a.m.n near choppedme a couple of times, let me tell you. I had to duck like a madman, or I swear to G.o.d shewould've punctured me.

All old Regin Fafnirsbruder did was, he kept laughing. He was laughing his a.s.s off, to tell you the truth.

He really was.

Well, that just made old Brunhild madder. "You will pay for your insolence!" she said, and so help me if she didn't charge right on out through the fire. I halfway thought she'd cook. But she was hotter than the flames, and they didn't hurt her one bit.

Anyway, I figured I'd better try and get outa there, too. Old Regin Fafnirsbruder had said Brunhild was my only chance of doing that, andshe'd said I was supposed to guard her back even though I didn't know what the h.e.l.l I was supposed to do if somebody did go and jump on her. So I ran after her. People always say I never listen toany body, practically, but that's a G.o.ddam lie. Well, it was this time.

I didn't run all that G.o.ddamhard , though, on account of I didn'tknow for sure if the fire would let me go the way it did for old Brunhild. But it felt like it did when that G.o.ddam sonuvab.i.t.c.h moron b.a.s.t.a.r.d Regin Fafnirsbruder pushed me through it going the other way-it was hot but nothot , if you know what I mean.

Let me tell you, old Regin Fafnirsbruder didn't look any too happy when Brunhild burst out of the ring of fire with me right behind her-not that he paid all that much attention tome , the lousy crumby moron.

Actually, when you get down to it, I can't blame him for that, to tell you the truth. Here was this ordinary guy, and here was this G.o.ddamgirl with chainmail and this sword coming after him yelling, "Now you shall get what you deserve!" and swinging that old sword like she wanted to chop his head off-and she did , honest to G.o.d.

But old Regin Fafnirsbruder was a lot sprier than he looked. He ducked and he dodged and she ran right on by him. The sword wentwheet! a couple times but it didn't cut anything but air. And old Regin Fafnirsbruder laughed his a.s.s off again and said, "Yourblade is my life to drink not fated."

Well, old Brunhild was already madder than h.e.l.l, but that only p.i.s.sed her off worse. She started swinging that sword like a madman-up, down, sideways, I don't know what all. I swear to G.o.d, I don't know how old Regin Fafnirsbruder didn't get himself chopped into dog food, either, I really don't, Houdini couldn't have gotten out of the way of that sword, but Regin Fafnirsbruder did. He was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but he was aslick b.a.s.t.a.r.d, I have to admit it.

Finally, he said, "This grows boring. I shall another surprise for you one day have." Then he was gone.