The House by Edward Lee Read Free Book Online Page A

you get it. And when I say a master I mean a flick that's ready to dupe. It's gotta be edited, titled, the whole nine yards." Rocco cut a grin, pinched Leonard's cheek. "I like ya, kid. So don't fuck up."
    "Uh, right," Leonard said.
    He followed Rocco and Leonard back out to the car. Rocco stuck a Lucky in his mouth and went on, "It's different week to week. It all depends pretty much on the demand for what we got warehoused. Kiddie stuff's way too hot—we got guys in Washington who do that—so you'll never have to do any kiddie stuff. Just animals mostly."
    Just animals,  Leonard thought.
    "We gotta stable out back next to the dog pen, but there ain't nothing in it right now. We make 'em as we need 'em. Vinch wants a goat flick, we bring up a goat. Vinch wants a donkey flick, we bring up a fuckin' donkey, like that. Vinch wants a horse flick...we bring up Knuckles' mother."
    Knuckles pouted. "Oh, real funny, Roc."
    Rocco hee-hawwed like a donkey. "And sometimes, kid, we do specials..."
    "Specials?" Leonard couldn't help but query.
    "Yeah. Scats, neks, wets, shit like that. Shit, I'm sorry, kid. You probably don't know what any of that is, huh?"
    "Well, no."
    "Just watch the shit in the cutting room, you'll see. Anyway, we gotta blow."
    Leonard raised a curious brow. "You, uh, you mean...you're leaving?"
    "That's right, kid." Rocco looked him dead in the eye. "I hope you're not stupid enough to be thinkin' what I think you're thinkin'. You might be thinkin' ‘Hey, these goombas are driving away. What's to keep me from high-tailing it out of here?' Is that what you're thinkin'?"
    "Well, uh—"
    Rocco nodded, put an arm around Leonard's shoulder. "Here's why you shouldn't be thinkin' that, kid. This place is the sticks, and I mean Sticks City. There ain't nothin' out here, no stores, no towns, no buses—nothin'. You're over twenty miles away from the closest road off the county emergency route. Nobody even drives past this place 'cos there ain't nothing to drive to, so you can forget about hitchin' a ride. A couple miles over the hill, yeah, there's a town but it's one of these fuckin' Amish towns or Quakers or some shit. About a hundred of 'em and they never leave. They got no phones, no cops—shit, kid, these flakes don't even have cars. They ride around in horse and buggies like a bunch of little assholes dressed up like pilgrims, and they live in this compound you can't even get into. They won't even talk to ya. So let's just say that you do  decide to hoof it 20 motherfuckin' miles to the main road. You won't get nowhere. You leave, we'll find you. You could bury yourself in the woods and we'd find you. You could put on some of that scoober stuff like that French guy on TV Jock Gusto and you could swim to the bottom of the fuckin' sea, and we'd find you. That last asshole, the guy before you? He got all the way back to New York. And you know what happened?"
    "You, uh, found him?" Leonard guessed.
    "That's right, kid, we found him. And we did a job on him Rocco Style. In the cutting room there's a can marked Asshole. Watch it tonight, first thing. And any time you even think  about splitting, you watch it. Got it, kid?"
    "Uh, yes, Mr. Rocco."
    "Good. Awright. We're out of here. Oh, and sorry about your ball, kid, but—hey—that's the way it is. It ain't our fault the world's so fucked up, right, Knucks?"
    "Right," Knuckles studiously replied and got into the Cadillac. The big V-8 gunned up. Then Rocco got in the passenger side and put down the power window. "Later, kid. We'll be back next Friday with the horse."
    Leonard stood and watched them drive away.
    He stood there for a very long time.

    ««—»»

    When he went back into the house and sometime, perhaps hours, later, he found the aforementioned plastic film can, labeled Asshole.  He loaded it up on the RealView hand-crank and watched.
    He didn't have to watch long to get the gist.
    On screen, a long-haired man lay lashed naked to something like a