The Complete Stories by Flannery O’Connor Read Free Book Online Page B

have forgotten. He waited, hearing the noises flies make and the mumble of the men talking in the back. The fat man turned another page. Rayber could hear George’s broom slowly stroking the floor somewhere in the shop, then stop, then scrape, then.… “You er, still a Hawkson man?” Rayber asked the barber.
    â€œYeah!” the barber laughed. “Yeah! You know I had forgot. You was gonna tell us why you are voting for Darmon. Hey, Roy!” he yelled to the fat man, “come over here. We gonna hear why we should vote for Boy Blue.”
    Roy grunted and turned another page. “Be there when I finish this piece,” he mumbled.
    â€œWhat you got there, Joe?” one of the men in the back called, “one of them goodgovermint boys?”
    â€œYeah,” the barber said. “He’s gonna make a speech.”
    â€œI’ve heard too many of that kind already,” the man said.
    â€œYou ain’t heard one by Rayber,” the barber said. “Rayber’s all right. He don’t know how to vote, but he’s all right.”
    Rayber reddened. Two of the men strolled up. “This is no speech,” Rayber said. “I only want to discuss it with you—sanely.”
    â€œCome on over here, Roy,” the barber yelled.
    â€œWhat are you trying to make of this?” Rayber muttered; then he said suddenly, “If you’re calling everybody else, why don’t you call your boy, George. You afraid to have him listen?”
    The barber looked at Rayber for a second without saying anything.
    Rayber felt as if he had made himself too much at home.
    â€œHe can hear,” the barber said. “He can hear back where he is.”
    â€œI just thought he might be interested,” Rayber said.
    â€œHe can hear,” the barber repeated. “He can hear what he hears and he can hear two times that much. He can hear what you don’t say as well as what you do.”
    Roy came over folding his newspaper. “Howdy, boy,” he said, putting his hand on Rayber’s head, “let’s get on with this speech.”
    Rayber felt as if he were fighting his way out of a net. They were over him with their red faces grinning. He heard the words drag out—“Well, the way I see it, men elect.…” He felt them pull out of his mouth like freight cars, jangling, backing up on each other, grating to a halt, sliding, clinching back, jarring, and then suddenly stopping as roughly as they had begun. It was over. Rayber was jarred that it was over so soon. For a second—as if they were expecting him to go on—no one said anything.
    Then, “How many yawl gonna vote for Boy Blue!” the barber yelled.
    Some of the men turned around and snickered. One doubled over.
    â€œMe,” Roy said. “I’m gonna run right down there now so I’ll be first to vote for Boy Blue tomorrow morning.”
    â€œListen!” Rayber shouted, “I’m not trying.…”
    â€œGeorge,” the barber yelled, “you heard that speech?”
    â€œYessir,” George said.
    â€œWho you gonna vote for, George?”
    â€œI’m not trying to.…” Rayber yelled.
    â€œI don’t know is they gonna let me vote,” George said. “Do, I gonna vote for Mr. Hawkson.”
    â€œListen!” Rayber yelled, “do you think I’m trying to change your fat minds? What do you think I am?” He jerked the barber around by the shoulder. “Do you think I’d tamper with your damn fool ignorance?”
    The barber shook Rayber’s grip off his shoulder. “Don’t get excited,” he said, “we all thought it was a fine speech. That’s what I been saying all along—you got to think, you got to.…” He lurched backward when Rayber hit him, and landed sitting on the footrest of the next chair. “Thought it was fine,” he finished, looking steadily at