The Last Days of Louisiana Red by Ishmael Reed Read Free Book Online Page B

and her big mouth.”

CHAPTER 14
    Inside one of the apartments of the Yellings’ house sit Minnie and Sister. It is decorated in the psychedelic style of the sixties: attractively decorated pillows for seats, oddly shaped chairs and an old table picked up from a flea market. There are posters on the wall. One reads, “Visit Bulgaria,” another, “Free Anything,” under which is drawn the picture of a rattlesnake preparing to strike. Minnie, however skinny, has matured into a good-looking woman: A little mama; worldly, sophisticated and often impatient with her ignorant followers who believe anything she tells them. Sister is a “wee plump,” modest legs, butt and breasts. She is solid and in the old days would have been called a red hot. Sister is wrapped up so in long skirts, jewelry and a white turban that much of her original self is hidden. Minnie, this time out, is in denims, sandals, and wears an unassuming sweater. She doesn’t wear just one thing. Her fashions change as much as her mind. Sister doesn’t belong to Minnie’s cult, though Minnie has been working on her over the years.
    â€œI saw our brother this morning, driving that old Oldsmobile of his down Shattuck. He didn’t even honk his horn.”
    â€œHe’s probably mad at you because you and them Moochers tried to close down his Solid Gumbo Works.”
    â€œWell, what were we suppose to do? He’s so aloof, so jive. And that LaBas. Where did they get him? From the east, huh. Talking about ‘our profits are intangible and so we don’t have to keep any books,’ and then he had the nerve to point to his forehead, ‘The books are in here.’”
    â€œHe must know something, though. Your Moochers couldn’t get past his guard, even when they tried.”
    â€œWe’ll get him sooner or later. Nothing can stop my Moochers. Next time the sacrifices will be more terrible, bloodier.”
    â€œWhy is there always the need for blood, Minnie? Why do you always see ‘many casualties’ as being victorious?”
    â€œWe Moochers understand nothing but blood. Blood is truth. Blood is life. Drink blood, drink it. Blood. Blood.” (With this, a distant gaze)
    â€œI … I … understand, I think, Minnie, but it’s still …”
    â€œO Sister, you’re so dense. You know, I was always the one in the family who was good for theory. Our father was the poet. You and Wolf were the ones who didn’t fit.”
    â€œMinnie, let’s not go through that again. I sympathize with your aims as far as I can understand them, but why are you so hard on Papa LaBas and Wolf? People say that he prevented the Business from going under with Dad.” (Minnie nervously mashes out her cigarette in an ashtray and swings around.)
    â€œNow look here, Sister, don’t you dare say such things even if you mean them. LaBas and our kïnd will be locked in interminable struggle against the fascist insect! It’s inevitable.”
    â€œSee? There you go.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œMinnie talk (bites into a fruit). It sounds the same whoever says it. Who says everything has to be that way?”
    â€œMy slogans.”
    â€œYour what?”
    â€œMy slogans (distantly). They tell me. My slogans know everything. With my slogans I can change the look of the future any time I wish.”
    â€œAw, Minnie, that’s sick. How can you change something that’s only about to be?”
    â€œWe have our tested ways. Tried and true; now with my slogans we’re able to match wits with the best of them. All this, due to our slogans. My slogans be praised.”
    (Sweet lovable Nanny enters the room.)
    â€œI jus hears you chirren carrin on, so I knows I jus had to bring yawl some good ol cream of wheat. Piping hot. Now dig in, girls.” She rests the service on the table.
    â€œO Nanny, how sweet of you.” (Minnie goes over; kneels