The Onion Eaters by J. P. Donleavy Read Free Book Online Page B

the end of the table. Who sat rigidly contemplating an empty area just beyond his plate. It has always embarrassed me to stand up in front of people with a bulge in one’s trousers. About to plan as I was some lighthearted repartee. To quell the presently brewing social holocaust. And maybe thereby get round to the price of butter, four pounds of which disappeared at lunch.
    Mrs L K L gasped and brought her hands up to grab Rose’s wrists. A large purplish vein swelling out on her neck. That, by God, could be the jugular. By which so many of us want to get others. Now a vessel protrudes on her temple. Even in this light she is beginning to turn blue. As her husband turns a page of his book. And the exprisoners rise. A swarthy one to take an arm of Rose. Another attempting a lighthearted headlock and getting promptly butted in the face. The remaining exprisoner is feeling her behind. For hidden strengths. Christ what a crew. All turning as the remaining mound of mutton slips from Oscar’s tray. The poor kid’s face torn with alarm. Erased suddenly by a victory roar from Rose. Certainly not of Tralee.
    ‘I’ll strangle you you fucking bitch.’
    Erconwald did not include among his many descriptions of self and associates that they were to a man adherents of the doctrine that it is desirable and possible to settle acrimonious miff and bitter huff by peaceful means. And they moved not a muscle. As Rose contorts in the rather over-familiar grasp of the exprisoners. And giggling now pressing away hands from under her armpits. Music in the distanceincreased in tempo and crescendo. Only need a stage and box office. One or two ancestors there on the wall might by the rate of their eyeball movement even pay admission.
    Percival with a new nimbleness since his midnight collision with Fred the pig, making a flying leap. Towards Mrs L K L raising a small pearl handled pistol taken from a mesh evening purse. Bang bang bang. Lead sprinkling the walls. Sending moths out of the tapestry. Bang bang, two bullets pinging upon an armorial knick knack. Exprisoners painfully levering off Rose’s fingers sunk into the neck of Mrs L K L whose mouth’s open and tongue out, gasping. One arm outstretched, hand clinging to the gun, her robust sinewy qualities no match for Rose. Who is better at strangling than singing.
    Lead Kindly Light the husband perused his book throughout, taking from a side dish thin cross sections of onions upon which he squeezes a liquid from a plastic replica of a lemon. With a delicate flourish of the wrist he puts them in his mouth. And now I see he wears sandals over white socks just visible through the other crouched figures under the table. Must call for port to be followed by cheese and cantos. With demi tasse and desperation in the chapel. Where there is an altar to permit premeditated injury and maim among the guests. And be near the organ music as well.
    With my secluded feelings spirited away within me I bid the guests goodnight. Mrs L K L was led sobbing from the dining room escorted by the three exprisoners. When Percival appeared with port I instructed it to be placed by my bedside. The mystery man came up to me and with the saddest face I have ever seen, put out his hand to shake mine. Two enormous scars went down both cheeks under the eyes. And one sensed he was trying to smile. Erconwald kept bowing low as he backed away, feeling with one hand to his rear and I confess I was waiting for him to step backwards over one of those lines drawn by Percival. Which sent the victim downwards.
    ‘Abjectly good person I tender my apologies. No balm hath die calm that I do wish I might anoint you with.’
    ‘I certainly don’t want to get bitten by one of your god damn snakes.’
    ‘Ah. You have spoken.’
    ‘You’re damn right I’ve spoken.’
    ‘And I’m saddened to note that you do so with alarm.’
    ‘You bet you do, those things are dangerous just bringing them into someone’s house like that. And then