Arcadio by William Goyen Read Free Book Online Page A

laid heavy on me again, my God would make a lunatic out of me, a crazy hurtin gaspin thing out of me, cryin out for ease. Wish I could be a holy saint or a person without any feelins, a poor idiota like that Hector; or just a boy, a boy without the changin and hurtin that comes to you in a while, before you know it you done changed from something skippin along or off singin by yourself to a secret somethin lookin and huntin and wantin in the dark, lets you know what you got on you and the wild feelins that can come from what you got on you, wish I could go to a magician and have him wipe them off of me with a magic wand or with the wave of a silken handkerchief, or in a puff of smoke; or just paint over them as you can do on a picture. In me Satanas put on one body the two biggest troublemakers ever created from flesh onto one body and give that one person the torments of the whole human race, man and woman, all in one. Tis me. Arcadio. You wan hear.
    And I kept on havin, from time to time, offers of a lots of money, from people who wished me to display the work of nature on my flesh; but I would not. And one time a Turkish man, a rich Turk, wanted me, to take me away and put me in a little palace all of my own. I don know what town but in some town in Turkey, I guess. Turkish man said he would put silks and satins on me and pearls and rubies and just possess me all his own forever, pleasin me in any and every way that I wanted. This, I must admit, was a proposition, for the Turk was a muy caro person and I had nothing, not one thing, twas a real temptation, for pleasure and pearls and a little palace—a little security. But I would never have any privacy and would be owned by someone. And I would be back into my hellfire. So I would not. I would not go with this Turk.
    But the thing that really changed my life was that one night I come upon a Show travelin through Texas but pitched in a pasture outside of town of Refugio, a Mescan town of Texas, and the word come to me Investigate. So I went and said where’s the boss and they told me and I found the boss, Old Shanks, Tarrance Shanks, and said to him that I wanted a job and Old Shanks said doing what, and we went out in the field and I showed myself to the man, revealed myself, mi cuerpo , and Shanks said Jesus Christ. And after a minute said do you have any talent? Well I can play a good waltz on the frenchharp—a little; “The Waltz of the Spotted Dog,” I said. Never heard of the waltz but you got a job, said Tarrance Shanks to me, and wondered would I show myself, “nature’s harvest,” completely revealed, on the side to a special few who would no doubt be willing to pay an added fee. They would be screened out to detect any freaks who had abnormal ideas, man said. But I would not. I just would not. What would be my salary, I wanted to know. Cinco a week plus board and room, the man Shanks said, using a Mescan word the way Texans do. And I responded with a quick shot of Mescan, rattled out such a quick bunch of Mescan that it stopped him dead in his tracks and the man said what is that? And I said tips. It means in Mescan any tips? We have a sign outside says No Tips to the Attractions. That’s general procedure, said Tarrance Shanks.
    Though it was not a very good offer I agreed to dress up on the outside to indicate what’s on the inside for an additional one-fifty. But Shanks said not until there was an increase in attendance. Business’s been bad, he complained. Said twas because of rain and taxes.
    I took the job so I could always be among people, even if twas just settin still and gazin while bein gazed at and not bein alone in some faraway palace in Turkey or some cheap hotel in some city. And time passed on until where my mother Chupa found me and I excaped at her suggestion.
    I’d like to pull out a ragged photograph, once tinted but now the tint is faded away in most spots, taken of me in Albuquerque once when I