The Voyage of the Peanut

there is a big sweet globey world out there: go see it, man!

Every Man Wishes to make his million and find himself a friendly belly where to rest his head." This is what my Uncle Feig told me on the night I went out in the world. He squeezed this wisdom out of himself by a major effort of will. He had to give me something to take along for my flag, and it certainly wasn't going to be convertible currency. So he sat me across from him at the kitchen table and put his head between his hands and pressed. It was like watching an apple commit suicide in the juicer.

Uncle Feig had powerful arms from his days in construction, and his habit of putting the vise on his brain made me nervous. It was his way of thinking. The night of my departure from the homestead he was squeezing especially hard and I sat there in a sweat ready to dodge his eyeballs in case they blew. After his thought came, he relaxed and smiled.

He was pleased with himself and why not? He knew he had said something really big that I could carry in my pocket.

Then Uncle Feig took an egg out of the fridge and said, "Murray, try to bust this by shoving from both ends." I tried until my face was red and Uncle Feig laughed and slapped the table.

"I can't break the egg," I said.

"It goes to show you," he said. "Nature is nature. It's got a way of balancing things out. If a lousy egg can take a beating, you can take a beating. If a stupid eagle makes it to Miami for the cold months, you got no worries. You're a nice-looking boy."

It was getting near time for my bus so I thanked him. "Forget it," he said. "And keep me in touch. If something good happens send me a postal and if something bad a Western Union. Remember, you got relations. My final advice to you is don't be a noodge and don't get impatient. When you're ready for it, it comes to you. The road opens up."

I put on my jacket and picked up my bag.

"Goodbye," I said. "You'll hear from me."

"I was your mother and your father the way things worked out," Uncle Feig said. "Make me proud parents."

"I'll try my best," I said. I was beginning to feel weepy and I didn't want to cry. It wasn't so much that I was embarrassed but I was afraid to scare myself. After all, my room was still there inside, it was a pretty good life, and I wasn't in bad with the cops. Nobody was whipping me to go.

Uncle Feig came over and kissed me on the cheek. He hadn't done that for years. His beard was like wet Brillo and he rubbed it against my face.

"Are you sure about this trip, kid?" he said.

"Oh, yeah, yeah."

"Go and sow your oats. Get them out of your system."

Then Uncle Feig handed me a box. I opened the box and in it was a pigskin wallet. I flipped the wallet and found a 10-dollar bill and a picture of Uncle Feig under the celluloid. It was an old picture of a much younger man but you could see it was my uncle.

"Smell it," Uncle Feig said.

I smelled the pigskin. Its newness came through in a sweetish, good smell that is proof of the genuine article.

"That's terrific," I said. "I really appreciate it."

"Nothing," Uncle Feig said. "Have fun, kid."

"Take care of yourself," I said.

"I'll take care," Uncle Feig said. "You take care."

"So long," I said.

I caught my bus.

I found a seat by the window and settled in. The glass was mistish from rain so I made a porthole with my hand. Under the hole I wrote my name, Murray Welkin, and the date. Don't ask me why. I knew it wouldn't last, like the carving on a tree, but it gave me pleasure. I suppose I wanted to mark that night one way or another and there were no walls handy to scrawl on.

When the bus lights went out and the driver hit the gas, the motor roared like a bull in heat. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I was very excited. I felt the vibrations of the bus zoom through me. I was so charged up I could have been plugged in a socket. We moved out of the station and through the town. I grew up in that town and knew every store and face practically but that night the street looked different.

The bus went through the tenderloin and turned on the highway. It shook free of the last houses and picked up speed when the road widened. I was sailing, pointed due west.

West was my chosen direction and with a reason.

I wanted to be in the movies. That is something I never told anybody. Take it or leave it, that's how I felt. My ticket was good until Los Angeles and that seemed a damn fine start.

I put my head back against the seat and looked out my porthole. All I could see were lights and some lumpy black shadows. I felt pretty jazzy as you can easily comprehend. I was 18 years, four months old. I was finished with high school. I was relaxing on a Greyhound over a set of fat whirling wheels that chewed up a mile a minute for me. I had a goal.

If there was a single thing in the world that bothered me, besides leaving Uncle Feig alone back home, it was one correctable situation. I was still a virgin. Not that I was sick or incapacitated. It's mostly that I was a busy kid with outside interests.

That night on the bus I thought things over and I realized I had plenty time. And I was even glad because I felt saved up. I had it figured that my unique condition in the sexual area had some value. I didn't feel exactly boasty about being what they called unspoiled, but I wasn't too sorry. Everything was happening to me for the first time, so why not that too? Besides, I wanted her to be a movie star. That's right, a movie star. Which movie star I wasn't particular about, and why a movie star I can't tell you, but I wanted the initial experience to be with a movie star. Is that unreasonable? That's the way I was. I had my own ideas about things.

You notice I didn't tell the name of the town I left from, and that was on purpose. I did it to protect the innocent. So when I say now that a day later the bus pulled into Los Angeles you'll have to take my word. Also take my word when I say that the first place I tried for a job I hit it lucky.

I was in a luncheonette near the terminal eating some sunny-side-ups when I noticed the counterman watching me. I eat my bull's eyes in a slightly peculiar way. First I eat the whites until the yellows are isolated. Then I maneuver the yolks onto my fork and slide them into the cave still whole. It's a game I play with myself. This counterman got a big kick out of it. It broke him up.

"How come you do that?" he said.

"It's a habit," I said.

"I got the same habit," he said. "With me if a yellow breaks I'm in a lousy mood. You got that?"

"Not exactly," I said.

"It ruins me," he said. "I can't stand it. You know, its psychological."

"Yeah?"

"No question about it," he said. "It's a proven fact. My sister in college gave me the poop."

"Imagine that," I said.

"Everything has a meaning," he said. "Do you dunk?"

"I can take it or leave it," I said.

"Dunking has a meaning too," he said.

"What does it mean?" I said.

"It means you're a slob," he said, and he started to laugh.

The result of all this was he told me about a job. He didn't have too many details but he wrote out the name of a man to see who managed a place called Goobertown. I thanked him and left him a quarter tip.

It was still early and I felt seedy from the trip so my first official act was to find a pad. Normally I would have gone to a hotel because I am not a shy type, but I chose the YMCA because they had a swimming pool. I thought a little splashing around would be just the thing after 24 cramped-up hours. Can you blame me?

There is a Y on Turk Street that sold me a room with privileges for three dollar bills. My room was small but it was enough to make do. I put my trunk on the floor, hid my money in the Gideon Bible under Solomon, and went down to the gym. They gave me a locker and a towel and a card to fill out saying that if I drowned or dropped dead they were not responsible.

I stripped and showered, then walked through a puddle of chlorine until my toes were sterilized, then out to the swimming room. For some reason everybody at the Y swims naked and as it was crowded in the pool, naked men and boys were leaping around or lounging against the walls. The sight of all those bodies under fluorescent lights made me dizzy. It was like being in a monkey house where the fur suddenly dropped off the apes and I was as bad as the rest. The shapes and sizes of the Los Angeleans had plenty variety, and I admit it gave me some comfort to know that I stacked up well alongside them.

I was in trim condition without loose beef and I pulled myself in and did a neat racing dive into the greenish water. I swam around loosening my muscles, then got out, rubbed dry, dressed and went upstairs. I felt a little tired and it was only 11:30, so I pulled back the blankets, took off my shirt and pants and lay down for a nap.

I remember my dream as if it was painted on the wall. I was taking a screen test in a big studio full of cameras and lights. There was a band of music playing a New Yorkish song and a girl in a cruddy dress sitting on the steps of a house. They had me decked out in a tux and high hat complete with (Continued on page 56)Peanut(Continued from page 24) cane, and I was walking down the street coming home from some tremendous evening, just slumming along doing a snotty tap dance. The girl saw me and I saw her and we fell in love. We went dancing around together and a chorus came out dressed like pussy cats and danced with us. It was a great number. Then it started to dawn and the girl said goodbye because it could never work out. She ran into a tenement and got lost. I went home to my penthouse and tried to shake her but I couldn't get her out of my mind. So I called my Jap and told him to case the street until he came up with her. My Jap was very devoted and would have died twice to keep me comfortable and he went out and found her hiding behind a wash line. I came tap dancing over to her place and proposed a quick marriage and she naturally accepted while crying, and we headed for city hall while the neighbors hung out of windows singing this mad song. It was a pleasant dream and I woke up smiling. But I didn't smile for long.

I blinked my eyes a few times to corroborate what I thought they saw and sure enough there was this lady. Y ladies are a very particular kind picked I sup pose for their being extremely safe. She was easily a hundred years old and stood holding a dust pan and a broom. She was standing over my bed making a sound like milk curdling, a kind of chilly inside clucking. I did a quick check to see that I was covered which I was by my underwear which is the same as shorts.

"What can I do for you, lady," was the first thing that came to my head so I said it.

"You can't do nothing for me but get dressed and get out," she said. "It's cleanup time."

"OK," I said. "I'm getting up."

"A young man like you sleeping away the best part of the day," she said. "It's a sin and a shame. You should be outside getting sun on your bones."

"Sure," I said. "You're perfectly right."

"There's fortunes to be made in this day and age," she said. "But not by the lazy nor the slothful."

"Certainly," I said. "If you'll excuse me ..."

"Myself, I would seek out uranium in the bowels of the earth, or enter the real estate field," she said. "There's wealth in owning property."

"Yes mam," I said.

"A young soul should welcome the day with a head full of ambitions," she said, waving the broom. "Out into the world of commerce."

"As a matter of fact," I said, "I've got this appointment with a big oil man."

"Oil is good," she said. "What with the Dow Jones Average hitting new highs and Wall Street, pardon the expression, bullish."

"I'm getting dressed," I said. "I'll be out of here ..."

"See that you do," she said, heading for the door. "There's dust and dirt in this room. It's marked for destruction, and nothing or nobody can stop that. Remember my words."

I remembered.

I dressed like a greased flash in my blue suit, white shirt, red tie and black shoes, combed my hair and got out. I passed the lady in the corridor sitting on a pile of laundry reading the stocks and bonds section of the Examiner. Her lips moved when she read and I swear she was saying something about the Erie Railroad which she shouldn't have said.

The elevator hustled me downstairs and I walked out into a glary day. It was muggy and close but the swimming had primed me and give or take a few aches I felt very optimistic. I had the address of Goobertown written on a piece of paper, so I asked a pedestrian for directions. He pointed out the rights and lefts and I found my way without trouble. I have a very good sense of direction and could find my way out of a ball of cobwebs if it was necessary.

Goobertown turned out to be a store with a fancy front of blue marble and chromium that sold nothing but peanuts. The windows were full of peanuts in every living known variety. There were plain roasted peanuts and chocolate covered peanuts, peanuts and raisins, peanut butter, peanut brittle and peanut you-name-it. Even on the outside there was this peanut smell which was extremely tempting.

I went into the store through an automatic door that worked on an electric eye and saw right away that the inside was even fancier than the outside. There was music and air conditioning and snappy glass counters along the walls. The counter girls wore white uniforms and caps shaped like peanuts and they were nice and clean looking. The floor was marble and the whole place had a bankish feeling only instead of money everything was peanuts. It was really a setup.

A floor man came over to ask me what I wanted. I told him I heard there was a job around and he walked me back to the manager's office. He knocked on the door and a voice yelled "Come in," and I went in.

The manager was a short man, thin, wearing a gray stripe suit. I did a double take because for a split second he looked like one of his peanuts. He was sitting at a wood desk with a glass top decorated with peanut bookends and a peanut shaped lamp. I thought it was carrying things too far, and I began to feel crawly.

"Who sent you?" he said, and I told him I was recommended by the counter man.

"Are you interested in show business?" he said.

I was surprised to hear that and I lit up.

"Yes," I said. "As a matter of fact."

"This position involves showmanship," he said. "It's a job with a future. We're looking for a serious-minded fellow who wants to advance with the company. We want a man capable of growing."

"I think I'm capable of growing," I said.

"We want a man who is not afraid of hard work and starting at the bottom."

"I'm very interested," I said.

He was looking me over.

"Stand up," he said.

I stood up.

"Sit down," he said. "How's your health?"

"Fine," I said. "Tiptop."

"Do you like the outdoors?" he said. "We want a man who likes the outdoors."

"I like the outdoors," I said.

The manager pressed a button on his desk and a girl's voice said, "Yes, sir."

"Send in Mr. Humphrey," he said.

"Yes, sir," the voice said.

The manager sat staring at me and I focused on the picture of a farm where a big machine was harvesting a crop of you guessed it. I suppose it was the company farm. There was a scrapy noise at the door and this man came in who was maybe 60 or 65. He stood slouched over like a buck private in a comedy. The manager stood up.

"Mr. Humphrey," he said, "this young fellow seems promising. I'll leave you alone with him."

The manager picked himself up and walked out of the room.

Mr. Humphrey was giving me the once-over.

"So you're applying for my job," he said.

"Your job? I didn't know it was your job, sir. I wouldn't want to ..."

"I'm retiring," Mr. Humphrey said. "I'm retiring to Mexico."

"That's nice," I said.

"Fifty years with the company," he said.

"That's a long time," I said.

"And now I must lay down my shells."

"I'm sorry, sir," I said. "But I don't think I heard you."

"I'm laying down my shells," he said in a louder voice. "I'm out of the rat race. It's a young man's game and my days of service are done. I've earned my rest. I'm going into stud, grazing on the (continued on page 62)Peanut(continued from page 56) plantation, do you get what I mean?"

"I think so," I said.

"You might be my successor," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"The king is dead, long live the king."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't think I'm not looking forward to my leisure," said Mr. Humphrey. "Oh, I love the business. But I have my hobbies too. I've prepared for old age. Make sure that when your time comes to pass your shells on to someone new you'll have other interests," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"I think you'll do," he said. "You have the right cut. I like your style."

"Thank you," I said.

Mr. Humphrey went out of the room and came back with the manager, who was beaming.

"Congratulations," the manager said. "You're on the Goobertown team now, lad. Mr. Humphrey has given you the green light. It's up to you now."

"That's wonderful," I said.

"Let's get him out on the field," the manager said to Mr. Humphrey. "The sooner the better. He's got to prove himself."

"Right," Mr. Humphrey said.

"You'll start at forty-five dollars a week," the manager said. "We'll be watching you. Our eye is always open for executive talent. Now go with Mr. Humphrey, and good luck."

He shook my hand. I followed Mr. Humphrey out of the office, into another room.

"Excuse me if I get emotional," Mr. Humphrey said. "But this is a solemn occasion."

"Sure," I said.

He went over to a big black box lying on the floor.

"Open it." he said.

I opened it.

"Take them out," he said.

I bent into the box and took out a pair of black pants, and two giant half-shells.

"Wait a minute," I said. "What is this?"

"Your uniform," Mr. Humphrey said. "Wear it proudly."

"My uniform?" I said.

"Yes," he said. "Now hang your suit up there and let's try it on for size."

"Am I going to be a peanut?" I said. "Is that what the job is?"

"Naturally," Mr. Humphrey said. "You will represent Goobertown on the streets of Los Angeles."

I did some quick thinking. I weighed the angles. It was a job and I needed a job. I could hit the studios on Saturdays. Besides, plenty of stars were discovered walking around the streets.

"Haste," Mr. Humphrey said. "It takes time at first, but in a few months you'll be able to snap them on in a jiffy."

"All right," I said. "But give me a hand."

He helped me strap on the shells. I felt like I was locked inside a drain pipe. There was a little eye hole and a breathing slot near my mouth. Mr. Humphrey put two black sleeves over my arms and white gloves on my hands.

"You look fine," he said. "I'm proud of you."

"Put me in front of a mirror," I said.

"Vanity, vanity," Mr. Humphrey said. "I know just how you feel."

He led me to a mirror. I couldn't believe what I saw. I was a peanut, a human peanut. Mr. Humphrey was excited. He took me into the store. The customers did a double take and the counter girls giggled. I figured what the hell and bowed at a fat blonde holding a bag in her hand. She roared. The manager came over.

"A fine start." he said. "Now wander. Keep moving. Get yourself seen. Be back here at six and don't stop to dally."

"Yes, sir," I said. And I thanked Mr. Humphrey.

I walked outside, and you can understand how I attracted some attention. The first block was the hardest, and watching the traffic lights, but after that I began to enjoy myself. It was hot inside my shell and I was worried about possibly sneezing and blasting my brains out, but otherwise a breeze blew in through my armholes and cross-ventilated with the breathing slot, and that made life bearable. I took a slow walk around town looking at the buildings and ogling the crowds. Every once in a while I waved to a kid. And while I went I was thinking to myself, "Things are looking up, Murray. Here you are in town a few hours and already employed." I knew that Uncle Feig would be proud of me and that made me feel good.

Time passes fast in the peanut business. The day shot by. People stopped to trade cracks with me and I even developed a routine. I told them there were plenty nuts where I came from, and said, "What's your excuse?" It went over big. It must have been three-thirty-ish when I noticed the car.

I have seen cars and cars in my lifetime before and since but never anything like the job that was cruising alongside me. It was long and low, painted olive green, loaded with chromium and souped up. On the radiator was the figure of a jungle-type girl with her hands stretched out galloping along on top of a panther. A chauffeur handled the wheel and you could see that he was happy with his machine. A saintish look kept him smiling slightly, and he (continued on page 80)Peanut(continued from page 62) had a dreaming expression on his face. The back of the car was curtained off, but I saw from my shell that the curtains were separated. Somebody was peeking outside.

At first I thought it was a coincidence that the car crawled along next to me. But after a while I got suspicious so I crossed the street and turned a corner. The car turned too and kept crawling. It made me a little nervous and I was beginning to wonder, when out of the blue a little kid off the sidewalk ran up to me and threw an arm lock around my haunches. She wouldn't let go. She had never seen anything like me before and I suppose she wanted to eat me on the spot.

Her mother tried to drag her away but she carried on and screamed. A crowd formed and the kid fell down to my ankles and held on. I was losing my balance. I didn't relish the idea of falling down on the sidewalk because I knew it would be damn near impossible to get up and I would be at the mercy of anything that happened to come along.

The kid sunk her teeth into my ankle and luckily there was a bone that stopped her. She was yelling, "I love my Uncle Peanut," which was frightening by itself and she meant it from the heart. Finally they pried her separate and her mother belted her with a handbag and promised her I would stop around on Christmas.

A cop came over by then and gave me a talking to. He told me to move along, which I was willing to do, and I beat it back onto the avenue at a slow trot. It was hard to make real time because the wind caught my peanut at the corner and nearly tipped me over. By the time I got hold of myself the car was gone and to tell you the truth I forgot about it. I was too busy just sweating and rubbing my bruise.

I was shaking pretty bad. The experience was a mean one. I thought of going back to Goobertown but I never was a quitter and that $45 was big time to me. So I looked around for a place to catch my breath.

Now L.A. is a curious town full of peculiar temples. Every few blocks is a churchy-looking building that is not exactly an ordinary church. They have strange names and odd shapes, but all of them are open to the public. I was attracted to one by its four-o'clock whistle. I mean exactly that. At four o'clock this tower on the street gave out a moaning noise like a squeezed owl. My nerves were frying anyway and that sound threw me. I thought it was an earthquake and that I would be swallowed up. But it was only the tower clock marking time. The building had a big sign in neon that said: "Haven Of The Jolly Atoms." It also said: "Enter Strangers" so I went over and entered.

I had to bend to get myself through the first door and I came up against a second. This one was painted white with gold universy pictures and it had a bronze hand for a knob. I grabbed the hand and gave it a shake. Chimes rang out and the door opened. It was dark inside and my eyes had to adjust. But when they did I saw that I was inside a big boxy room decorated with plastic stars and planets. In the center hanging from the ceiling was a ball spinning and little balls whooshing around it. Two spirally columns of flashing lights flanked an altar at the far end. I decided right away that this was not the place for me and I turned to go. But two ladies in white robes came out of someplace and took me by the arms.

"Sister Proton welcomes you," said one.

"Sister Nutron welcomes you," said the other.

"Pleased to meet you," I said. "But I'm on a lunch hour and ..."

"Enter the kingdom of flux," said Sister Proton.

"Let yourself fragment," said Sister Nutron.

"I came in to rest," I said.

"Of course," said Sister Proton.

"Now rest," said Sister Nutron, sitting me down under the spinning ball.

"There is nothing like disintegration and reintegration," said Sister Proton.

"Nothing," said Sister Nutron.

"You'll be a new man," Sister Proton said, "and for such a reasonable fee."

"Five dollars a treatment," said Sister Nutron. "For the fund."

"Surely you believe in the work of the fund," said Sister Proton.

"Well," I said, "the truth is ..."

A rainbow of lights began flashing out of the ball and it started to come down over my head. It was suspended by a very thin wire and whirling that way it looked very ominous.

"Disintegrate, reintegrate," said Sister Nutron.

"Flux is everything," said Sister Proton.

"I don't have five dollars," I said. "This is my first day in L.A. I just started working ..."

"You can owe us the five dollars," said Sister Nutron.

"That's nice of you," I said. "But ..."

A chorus of voices came out of a speaker somewhere and the ball turned yellow. It was about three feet over our heads.

"Now, atomize," said Sister Nutron.

"Fly apart," said Sister Proton.

The ball began to buzz and come down closer and I was worried that it would hit the top of my shell. I probably would have been pulverized if it hadn't been for some quick thinking.

"I owe you five dollars," I yelled. "I owe you ten dollars."

The ball began to lift, the buzzing stopped, the lights went out and Sister Proton and Sister Nutron calmed down.

"Fill in this short form," Sister Nutron said.

I wrote out an IOU giving my name as Sam Humphrey which was the name of my predecessor, and listing an address that came to my mind.

"Are you refreshed, brother?" said Sister Proton and I said, "Extremely."

They led me to the door and I ducked outside.

It took me about a half-hour to get over being atomized and by then it was after five. I had walked a long way so I turned back toward Goobertown. I was looking forward to coming out of my shell and doing the town as a civilian again.

About a block from home base I saw the monster car again and things fell into place. The way I figured it, Goober-town sent that car to spy on me and there was no question but that I would get canned because of the mess on the street. My thinking was very muddy. If I had any sense I would have realized that the car probably cost more than all the company's peanuts end to end, with the fixtures thrown in for good measure.

I ambled into the store like a prince on wheels. I took it slow with dignity. Inside I looked around and strutted over the marble toward the manager's office. I saw him in back of the place huddled with the chauffeur gesturing and whispering his lousy report. The manager looked serious as hell and shook his head. Then I saw the chauffeur reach into his pocket and pass something to him and things changed. The boss began to smile. He patted the chauffeur on the shoulder and even laughed.

I was practically on them when they saw me coming.

I was ready with a speech of resignation that included mention of my future glorious career but before I had a chance to deliver even the opening sentence the manager came over to me grinning with his mouth open.

"Hello, lad," he said. "We wondered what happened to you."

"I was out on my beat," I said.

"Yes," the manager said. "You've done very well. I'm hearing good things about you already."

"Yeah?" I said.

"Incidentally," the manager said, "you know this type of work calls for occasional late hours."

"I didn't know," I said.

"Now you know," he said. "And tonight we have a special assignment for you."

"Tonight?" I said. "It's my first night in L.A. and I was looking forward to ..."

"This is business," the manager said. "Important business."

"Can't I possibly ..."

"Not possibly," he said. "You work tonight."

"If you say so, sir," I said.

"Good man," he said.

"What do I do?" I said.

"Just go with Mr. Antenna," the manager said. "He'll explain things later."

He pointed to the chauffeur. Mr. Antenna came over and shook hands with me.

"Are we ready?" he said.

"I'm ready," I said.

"The company is watching you," the manager said. "Keep that in mind."

"I will," I said.

I followed Mr. Antenna outside and we walked toward the car.

"Where are we going?" I said. "I haven't had my supper yet."

"Don't complain," Mr. Antenna said. "You should be thanking your lucky stars. You'll get fed."

He opened the car door for me.

"How can I fit in there?" I said. "Get me out of my shell."

"The shell stays," Mr. Antenna said. "The seat bends back. We'll lay you in horizontal."

"I don't know," I said.

"Get in," he said. "It's the best thing that ever happened to you."

I got in somehow and was stretched across two seats. Mr. Antenna got behind the wheel and started the car. We went purring along through the city and I knew from the traffic sounds that we were out of the mash and in suburbia.

"Be a sport," I said. "Where are we going?"

"You're going to heaven," he said.

"Let me in on the secret," I said. "I don't like surprises."

"You'll like this surprise," Mr. Antenna said. "I guarantee you'll like this surprise."

I decided to play it cool. I shut up and waited. Mr. Antenna began singing a popular song. He had the car moving along at a good clip and we must have put 20 miles between us and the town. He was singing along just hitting his stride when he swerved the car into a driveway and we were riding on pebbles.

The car stopped.

"We're home," he said.

He got me out of the car by twisting a little and I saw where I was. We were parked in a forest-like affair in front of a clearing. There was a little lake full of swans to the left and the biggest house I ever saw in my life on the right.

"Now, listen," said Mr. Antenna. "Just accept the fact that you have been selected."

"For what?" I said.

"Just be nice and keep loose," he said. "Come on."

He rang the doorbell and a man came down to let us in.

"Ah," said the man. "Monsieur Peanut."

"In the flesh," the chauffeur said. "He's all yours."

"Follow me, sir," the man said.

I went upstairs. The man stopped by a closed door and knocked with his finger tips.

"Monsieur Peanut est ici," he said in a voice like soft ice-cream.

"Eh, bien!" said a voice from inside.

Then the servant, or butler, or whatever he was went hustling down the corridor and disappeared around a corner.

I was alone. I heard music all of a sudden and I felt like I was back in the temple except this music was stringy, full of violins. I was fidgety in my shell, restless from the suspense.

The door opened and a little girl in black who must have been a maid pointed inside and ran away in the direction of the butler. I went in, shell and all, thinking, "Murray, this day has plenty of doors in it," when I saw her sitting in a golden boat.

No, I am not going to mention names. I have some honor left and I know my responsibilities. But I can tell you I knew who she was because I saw her plenty of times before, and you did too. I said she was sitting in a golden boat but the boat was a bed with white sheets and cushions and she was sort of nicely draped out in a gauzy kind of nightgown. I knew who she was all right. The fact is I dreamed about her a year or so before I started to shave.

"Hello, Peanut," she said, in what they call a sultry voice.

I was too choked up even to ask for her autograph.

"Sit down, Peanut," she said.

I went over and sat down. I was shivering hard enough to rattle my shell and I didn't know what was happening. In the movies she wears things like a middy blouse or a crisp kind of little girl dress but this was confusing and different.

"Relax, Peanut," she said.

She reached over to an ice bucket and pulled out a bottle of wine. She poured two glasses and held one out for me.

"Much appreciated," I said, "but I either need a straw or to get out of my uniform."

"Not yet," she said. "Let's wait."

"For what?" I said.

"For the sweet moment when you cast off your shells and stand before me," she said. "You have no idea how exciting this is."

"No mam," I said.

"You don't know what a drag life can be," she said. "Work, work, work. Same, same, same. When I saw you today, I wanted to know you as a woman knows a man. In a moment of discovery."

"You were in the car," I said.

"Yes, my mystery Peanut," she said. "Yes, my unknown quantity."

I was feeling very warm. Her impact was big on me. She was curvy and warm looking and her hair was combed out and spilling like a fountain. She began stroking my shell.

"Please stop that," I said.

"Why, Peanut?"

"For personal reasons," I said.

But she cuddled in closer.

"Would you believe that I haven't felt like this for years?" she said. "You do something to me."

"It's probably the uniform," I said.

"You thrill me," she said. "Do I appeal to you?"

"Oh yes," I said. "Oh yes."

"Do you like me for myself?"

"Pardon?" I said.

"Do you love me?" she said.

"Well ..." I said.

"Do you want to touch me?"

She was curling and uncurling at the same time and breathing in tiny breaths and I began to get a little dizzy.

"Now," she said. "Emerge!"

"I don't know ..."

"Now," she said. "Cast off thy shell."

"But ..."

"Now, Peanut mine," she said. "Reveal yourself!"

"If ..."

"You're driving me insane," she said. "Come out."

Her lips were on top of my breathing slot and let me tell you I was on fire. I didn't want to do anything I would regret or take advantage of her, but I am only human and she came at me like a cat. So I started to pry myself out of the shell, the trouble being that I didn't know the combination.

"Peanut, have mercy," she said. "Spring forth!"

"I'm trying to spring forth," I said. "Have patience. Mr. Humphrey didn't tell me how ..."

"Please, please, please, please, please."

"I think it goes this way," I said. "But I never ..."

"Help me," she said. "Quench me. Drown me."

"I'll quench you," I said. "But my shell is slightly jammed. Mr. Humphrey ..."

"Murderer," she yelled. "Seducer! Are you trying to make a fool out of me?"

"Never," I said. "Not in a million years. But the trick ..."

She gave out with a growling sound that was very tigerish, jumped off the bed and ran to the door, shrieking, "Somebody, get me a nutcracker. For godsakes, get me a nutcracker!"

"Wait a minute ..." I said. "Just a minute ..." I was worried.

But she bolted down the hall and I heard footsteps running up and Mr. Antenna and the butler came into the room.

"Stay away from me," I said. "These shells are the property of ..."

I don't know how they did it, but they did it. I got in a few punches but I wasn't very mobile and they had me on the floor. I came popping out of the shells like a cork on New Year's and they went out of the room. She was standing over me with a terrible smile and I smiled back because what was there to do?

"Delicious Devil," she said. "Bashful Beelzebub. Subtle Satan. Luscious Lucifer."

I didn't even bother to defend myself.

• • •

Mr. Antenna drove me to L.A. On the trip to town I sat with my head back on the cushy seat, feeling swallowed and digested. That's the feeling exactly. I was inside the velvety gullet of this high-powered fish and it wasn't the worst sensation.

We went swimming down the river past other fishes with big white eyes. I was enjoying the ride even though I felt slightly dissolved, and the fish thoughts had me feeling really poetic. I'm no Henry Longfellow but occasionally I snap off a rhyme.

We were moving fast and smooth with me in a 40 percent trance and Mr. Antenna humming a bumble-bee jazz-type noise, working the wheel like he was half dashboard. We whizzed in and out of lanes beating out the other carfish and life inside my whale was very comfortable.

I must have been just a little bit south of Boobie Village because it seemed like the whole world was submerged and breathing bubbles. What brought me back to dryish land was this Edsel that came at us from the opposite direction. In my condition I could have sworn it was a mackerel, and I'm telling you it smiled at me. I said in this dazy way, "What the hell is that fish grinning about?"

Mr. Antenna stopped humming. He turned around to me and said, "Boy, get hold of yourself." I got hold of myself.

I admit I took my pulse to make sure I was still alive, but I did it shrewdly. I didn't want Mr. Antenna convinced that I was some shlerm from the country who never had an experience before. So I folded my hands politician style until I found the vein. The pulse was not only beating it was jumping like a Mexican bean and I think seriously I would have sprung a leak then and there if healthwise I wasn't in tremendous shape. There's plenty to be said for clean living.

Mr. Antenna opened his window and the damp, gray air loosened my brain. The air out there is probably loaded with vitamins because my vital juices started flowing again.

I was feeling better and better. I sat up in the seat like a stuffed cadet. I think if they screwed a bulb in my belly button that minute it would have started flashing on and off. I felt like an easy cinch for the Congressional Medal or at least my face on the two-dollar bill. You might say there was a rooster flying around inside me, and I knew that me and the bird were going to stay good friends. It's amazing what certain things can do for a man and a puzzle why they don't run out and tell the kids.

I started to hum with Mr. Antenna and together we managed to handle Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.

When we got to the Y, Mr. Antenna helped me carry my shells into the lobby and we shook hands.

"Well," he said, "I wish you milk and honey."

"The same to you," I said, "and thanks for the ride."

"Let's not talk too much about this," he said, "if you know what I mean."

He held out a wad of bills packed like an artichoke. "I know what you mean," I said.

I didn't take the cash. Enough is enough. I don't believe in witches but there's only so much a human person can stand. I waved it back at Mr. Antenna like it was a habit with me to leave big tips, and he pocketed the money and left.

I checked the shells with a desk clerk and wrote out a note for Mr. Humphrey resigning my commission and suggesting that he put off social security because the country needs men with his savvy what with the Red menace. Then I went up to my room, packed my grip and headed for the road.

They say a word to the wise is sufficient. I was in the City of the Angels for 24 hours on my trip, and already I felt cramped. I said to myself, "Murray, L.A. is a nice place to visit, but what else can she give you except smoggy eyeballs? There is a big, sweet, globey world out there which Columbus tells you is round, so why not have a look-see and prove it for yourself?"

I guess I inherit wandering blood from my grandpa who kept moving until he couldn't read his compass anymore.

So I stood on the concrete wiggling my thumb. The way I saw it, the movies were a corpse anyhow, and that TV was the place to be. I figured someday to give the tube a tussle and maybe to eat off the trees in New York, New York.

I knew Uncle Feig would give me the nod, and I checked to see if his pigskin was still in my jacket with the picture. It was.

There was plenty of moving traffic. The fog lifted and the stars were out thick. A slash of moon came up over the Pacific, and I never saw so much light.