The Death Of Bunny Munro Part 11

'It's been a hard day,' says Bunny, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

'I've got a feeling about you,' she says, not unkindly.

'Yeah,' says Bunny.

'I think things are going to get a whole lot worse.'

'I know,' he says, with a sudden and dizzying awareness. 'That's what scares me.'

Pamela pushes her hips forward.

'Do you like p.u.s.s.y, Bunny?'

There is a soft, sucking sound as Bunny's bottom lip drops open. He experiences a great, cinematic rus.h.i.+ng-away of the years.

'I do,' he says.

'How much do you like it?'

'I love it.' He feels the evaporating of a ma.s.sive psychic weight as his life tunnels backwards.

'How much do you love it?'

'I love it beyond all things. I love it more than life itself.'

Pamela readjusts the position of her hips.

'Do you love my p.u.s.s.y?' she says She slips a long curled finger into her v.a.g.i.n.a.

'Yes, I do. I love it beyond measure,' says Bunny, in a tiny, uncomplicated voice. 'I love it till the cows come home.'

Pamela chides him gently.

'You wouldn't lie to me, Bunny?' she says, her left hand splayed and circling like a pink, amputated starfish.

'Never. It is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Cross my heart and hope to die.'

Pamela slips her finger out and it glistens as she beckons to Bunny and says from deep in her throat, 'Well, come and get it.'

Bunny slides from the armchair and drops to his hands and knees and with movements that seem newborn and unpractised he crawls across the worn carpet of her maisonette a tube of hand cream clamped in his fist, a f.u.c.king rocket in his briefs and a little trail of plashed tears behind him.

Quasar a distant compact body far beyond our galaxy, which looks star-like on a photograph but has a red s.h.i.+ft characteristic of an extremely remote object. The distinctive features of quasars are an extremely compact structure and high red s.h.i.+ft velocity corresponding to velocities approaching the speed of light. They are the most luminous objects in the universe thinks Bunny Junior and he brings his knees up to his chest. The boy believes that if he remains where he is, in the Punto on Meeching Road, Newhaven, his mother will eventually find him, and even as he thinks this he becomes aware of a s.h.i.+ft in the air and the smell of his mother's hand cream. He feels the feathery touch of her hand on his brow. He can feel her trace his profile with an index finger, down his forehead, between his sleeping eyes, along the length of his nose and onto his lips, where she presses her finger down in the approximation of a kiss. Bunny Junior hears a voice either his or hers, he is not sure which that says, 'You ... are ... the ... most ... luminous ... object ... in ... the ... universe,' and he feels a gentle folding of the air around him.

'What's the capital of China!?'

Bunny Junior awakes to the smell of hand cream and the retracting flutter of his mother's fingers. His father sits beside him, panting and super-charged, his jacket off, his s.h.i.+rt open, his powerful pomaded hair crazy and all over the shop. White foam has collected in the corners of his mouth, his nose looks like a small, injured tomato and his eyes are energised with a wild joy.

Bunny Junior sits up and grabs at the empty air in front of his face.

'Mummy?' he says. 'Mummy?'

'Eh?' says Bunny.

The boy rubs the sleep from his face. 'Beijing,' he says.

Bunny enacts a little stunt with his index fingers.

'What's the capital of Mongolia?'

The boy opens and closes boxes in his mind, but he is groggy with sleep and this takes time.

'Come on! The clock's ticking,' says Bunny, who is now frantically combing his hair in the rear-view mirror.

'Ulaanbaadar,' he says, 'formerly Urga.'

Bunny stops combing his hair and for some reason does an impersonation of Frankenstein's monster, then mimes electricity coming out his ears and exclaims, 'Ulaanbaa ... what?!'

'Ulaanbaadar, Dad,' says Bunny Junior.

Bunny lets forth a great infectious laugh and slaps his thighs and lurches over, grabs his son in a headlock and knuckles the top of his skull.

'My son, the b.l.o.o.d.y genius! You ought to be on the telly!' shouts Bunny as he twists the key in the ignition and veers into the road. There is a blare of car horns and Bunny says, pulling at the crotch of his trousers, 'f.u.c.k, it's good to be back on the road!'

'That took a really long time, Dad,' says the boy.

'What?'

'You were in there a really long time.'

Bunny turns into the Brighton Road and says, 'Yeah, I know, but if you want to come on the road with me, the first thing you got to learn is patience patience. That is the first and fundamental law of salesmans.h.i.+p, Bunny Boy. Patience.'

Bunny guns the engine and overtakes a maroon cement truck.

'It's like those b.l.o.o.d.y Zulu warriors in Africa or wherever.'

'Natal,' says the boy.

'What?'

'South Africa.'

'Yeah, f.u.c.k, whatever. The thing is if a Zulu warrior wants to spear an antelope or a zebra or something, he doesn't go stomping through the bush with his boots on and hope the antelope is gonna stay put. Right? He has to employ, what is known in the trade as stealth. Stealth and ...'

'Patience,' says Bunny Junior and compresses a smile.

Bunny begins to beat on his chest a solemn tattoo with his fist and his face gathers in intensity.

'You become one with your prey ... and move quietly, stealthily, towards it and then ... Wham Wham! ... you stick your spear right through its b.l.o.o.d.y heart!'

Bunny slams his hand on the dashboard for dramatic emphasis, and then he looks at the boy and says, 'Why are you doing that loopy thing with your feet?'

'You left your tie behind, Dad.'

Bunny's hand rises to his throat.

's.h.i.+t,' he says, softly.

'You left it back at the last house,' says the boy.

Bunny punches his son playfully on the arm.

'Ah, well, Bunny Boy, you tell me a Zulu warrior that ever wore a b.l.o.o.d.y tie!'

The Punto is now heading west along the coastal road and the boy watches the sun as it falls beyond the horizon and casts the sea in yellow gold, then pink gold, and then an ethereal, sorrowing blue.

'Aren't you going to go back and get it?'

's.h.i.+t, no, I've got a suitcase full of ties!'

'Mum gave you that tie,' says Bunny Junior.

Bunny scratches his head and turns to the boy.

'OK, son, this is serious. This is the real deal. This is one of those moments in life when you've really got to listen and, young as you are, try to understand. There is another law of salesmans.h.i.+p that I haven't told you about. It is the absolutely crucial law. It's even more important than the patience law. Any salesman worth his salt will tell you the same thing. Now, do you want to know what it is?'

'OK, Dad.'

'Well, stop flopping your feet around and I'll tell you.'

'OK, Dad.'

'Never go back. All right? Never, ever, go back. Now, do you want me to tell you why?'

'OK,' says the boy, and all down the coastal road the streetlights come on and the boy sees an awesome, mystical majesty in it.

Bunny looks gravely at the boy and says, 'They may renege on the order.'

'Might they?' says the boy.

'Yes, believe me, it happens,' says Bunny. 'OK?'

'OK, Dad,' and they smile at each other.

Bunny turns his headlights on and they pa.s.s a billboard a topless Kate Moss, in a pair of Calvin Klein jeans and he recalls a conversation between Poodle, Geoffrey and himself, down The Wick. Poodle, who kept throwing back tequilas, sucking a lemon and licking the armpit of the girl sitting next to him, said, 'Well, if you include the haunches, I am definitely a leg man.' Geoffrey, who was sitting there like King Tut or Buddha or somebody, cupped his own considerable b.r.e.a.s.t.s and said, 't.i.t man, no contest.' Then they looked at Bunny, who pretended to give it some thought, but didn't really need to. 'v.a.g.i.n.a man,' said Bunny, and his two colleagues went quiet and nodded in silent agreement. Bunny loves Kate Moss, thinks she's cool, vanishes her Calvin Kleins, hammers the car horn and thinks, 'I'm f.u.c.king back.'

'I know where she bought that tie, if you want to get another one,' says the boy.

Bunny slams his hands on the wheel of the Punto and looks all around him and says, 'Close your eyes. Go on, close your eyes and don't open them till I tell you.'

The boy puts his hands in his lap and closes his eyes.

The Punto takes a sudden, violent swerve into a roadside McDonald's and screeches to a halt.

'Now open them,' says Bunny, and the boy can hear the trembling madness in his father's voice. The light from the giant McDonald's sign illuminates the boy's face, coating it in gold, and Bunny can see a little yellow 'M' reflected in each of his son's eyes as he throws open the door of the Punto and steps monstrously out and into the early evening light.

'Now, tell me you don't love your dad!' he roars.

17.

Bunny sits in McDonald's with a defibrillated hard-on due to the fact that underneath the cas.h.i.+er's red and yellow uniform she hardly has any clothes on. The cas.h.i.+er wears a nametag that says 'Emily' and she keeps glancing across at Bunny with huge vacant eyes and wiggling all around. She has a black lacquered beehive, a conga-line of raw acne across her forehead and a v.a.g.i.n.a. Bunny thinks she is similar to Kate Moss, only shorter, fatter and more ugly. He bites deep into his Big Mac and says to his son, 'I f.u.c.king love McDonald's.'

He knows fundamentally, as if it is carved into his very bones, that he could f.u.c.k Emily the cas.h.i.+er without any real resistance, but he also understands, in a sorrowful way, that there is a time issue, a problem with the venue (although it wouldn't be the first time he had slipped it to a waitress in the ladies') and, of course, he has his nine-year-old son sitting opposite him, flip-flopping his feet, smiling his wonky smile and playing with a plastic Darth Vader figurine that came free with his Happy Meal.

'Me too,' says Bunny Junior.

Bunny takes another bite of his Big Mac and knows what everybody knows who is into this sort of thing that with its flaccid bun, its spongy meat, the cheese, the slimy little pickle and, of course, the briny special sauce, biting into a Big Mac was as close to eating p.u.s.s.y as, well, eating p.u.s.s.y. Bunny put this to Poodle down The Wick one lunchtime, and Poodle, self-proclaimed s.e.xpert and barracuda, argued that eating a tuna carpaccio was actually a lot more like eating p.u.s.s.y than a Big Mac, and this argument raged all through the afternoon, becoming increasingly hostile as the pints went down. Finally Geoffrey, in his near-G.o.dlike wisdom, decided that eating a Big Mac was like eating a fat chick's p.u.s.s.y and eating a tuna carpaccio was like eating a skinny chick's p.u.s.s.y, and they left it that. Whatever. Bunny wipes at a blob of special sauce that runs down his chin with the back of his hand. He licks his lips as Emily the cas.h.i.+er throws Bunny another look and scratches at her acne. Bunny can see her nipples actually harden under her uniform, and the effect this has on him is so monumental that Bunny hardly registers that his son is asking him a question.

'Are you all right, Dad?'

Bunny was thinking that if Emily the cas.h.i.+er took a ten-minute smoko and went downstairs to the toilet, and if he bought Bunny Boy another c.o.ke or Sprite or something well, who knows? nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say in the trade. Bunny starts making surrept.i.tious signals, a subtle jerking of the cheekbone towards the customer bathrooms and a kind of egging of the eyeb.a.l.l.s, and he hears the boy say, in an anxious little voice, 'Dad?'

He hopes that his son doesn't blow the whole thing for him, so he whispers, out of the corner of his mouth, 'Stay cool, Bunny Boy, just stay cool.' Then he says, in the voice of a replicant or something, his eyes glued to the waitress, 'Do you want another c.o.ke or Sprite or something?'

Bunny Junior says, 'Um,' and then the manager, a f.u.c.king teenager with braces on his teeth and with a nametag that says 'Ashley', walks over and asks Bunny to leave. The skin on Ashley's face has actually turned a shade of green and is peppered with blackheads the size of confetti. He has grease spots on his company tie.

'I come here a lot. I'm a loyal customer,' says Bunny.

'Yeah ... um ... well, I know you do,' says Ashley the manager.

Outside, under the golden arches, Bunny opens the door of the Punto and flops into the driver's seat. The boy climbs in and Bunny says, 'I f.u.c.king hate McDonald's.'

Bunny Junior wants to ask his father why they had to leave the McDonald's in such a hurry, but way back in the sub-caverns of his mind, stirring like some hideous, hibernating beast, the answer is already taking shape.

The boy whispers, 'What are we going to do now, Dad?'

Bunny kicks over the engine of the Punto and the car comes reluctantly and cantankerously to life. He turns out of the McDonald's car park and merges into the night traffic on the coastal road and all the crouched cars move past.

'We are gonna get as far away from this place as possible,' he says.

The boy yawns deep and shudders.

'Are we going home now, Dad?'