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“What he say?” one worker asked another.
“We shall storm the office very shortly, thereby surprising the foe when his senses are still subject to the psychic mists of early morning.”
“Hey, Mr. R., pardon me,” a man called out from the crowd. “Somebody tell me you in trouble with a po-lice. Is that right?”
A wave of anxiety and uneasiness broke over the workers.
“What?” Ignatius screamed. “Where did you hear such slander? That is totally false. Some white supremacist, some upstate red-neck, perhaps even Gonzalez himself no doubt began that vile rumor. How dare you, sir. All of you must realize that our cause has many enemies.”
While the workers were applauding him soundly, Ignatius wondered how that worker had learned of the mongoloid Mancuso’s attempted arrest. Perhaps he had been standing in the crowd before the department store. That patrolman was the fly in everyone’s ointment. However, the moment seemed to have been saved.
“Now this we will carry with us in the vanguard!” Ignatius shouted over the last sprinkled applause. He dramatically whipped from his pelvis the sheet, flapping it open. Among the yellow stains the word FORWARD was printed in high block letters in red crayon. Below this Crusade for Moorish Dignity was written in an intricate blue script.
“I wonder who been sleepin on that old thing,” the intense woman with the spiritual bent, who was to be the leader of the choir, said. “Lord!”
Several other prospective rioters expressed the same curiosity in more explicitly physical terminology.
“Quiet now,” Ignatius said, stomping one foot thunderously on the table. “Please! Two of the more statuesque women here will carry this ba
“I ain puttin my hand on that,” one woman answered.
“Quiet! Everyone!” Ignatius said furiously. “I am begi
“How come we gotta take that old sheet with us?” someone asked. “I thought this suppose to be a demonstration dealin with wages.”
“Sheet? What sheet!” Ignatius replied. “I am holding before you the proudest of ba
The two women whom Ignatius indicated ambled slowly to the cutting table, gingerly took the ba
“That looks even more impressive than I had imagined,” Ignatius said.
“Don wave that thing around me, gal,” someone said to the women, creating another ripple of giggles from the crowd.
Ignatius flipped his camera into action and aimed it at the ba
They laughingly followed his directions, everyone, that is, but the two women who were sullenly holding the ba
In the office Mr. Gonzalez was watching Miss Trixie bump into the door frame as she made her entrance for the day. At the same time he was wondering what the new and violent outburst from the factory meant.
Ignatius filmed the scene before him for a minute or two more, then he followed a post upward to the ceiling for what he imagined would be an interesting and rather recherché bit of cinematography suggesting aspiration. Envy would gnaw at Myrna’s musky vitals. At the top of the post the camera focused upon several square feet of the rusted interior of the factory’s roof. Then Ignatius handed the camera down to a worker and asked to be photographed. While the worker aimed the lens at him, Ignatius scowled and shook a fist, entertaining the workers greatly.
“All right now,” he said benevolently when he had taken the camera back and flipped it off. “Let us control our riotous impulses for the moment and plan our stratagems. First, the two ladies here will precede us with the ba
“Please remember this. Our first approach will be a peaceful and rational one. As we enter the office, the two ladies will carry the ba
Someone said, “This a lotta shit,” but Ignatius ignored the voice. There was a happy hush in the factory, most of the workers eager for the change of pace. Mr. Palermo, the foreman, appeared drunkenly between two of the furnaces for a moment and then disappeared.
“Apparently the battle plan is clear,” Ignatius said when no questions were forthcoming. “Will the two ladies with the ba
The lady with the spiritual bent blew a pitchpipe and the choir members began singing lustily, “Oh, Jesus, walk by my side, / Then I always, always be satisfied.”
“That really sounds rather stirring,” Ignatius observed. Then he shouted, “Forward!”
The formation obeyed so rapidly that before Ignatius could call anything else, the ba
“Halt!” Ignatius screamed. “Someone come help me off this table.”
“Stop!” Ignatius called frantically, watching the last of the battalion file through the door. “Come back in here immediately.”
The door swung closed. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the table. Then he swung around and, after a long while spent in maneuvering his extremities, managed to sit on the edge of the table. Noticing that his feet were swinging only a few inches from the floor, he decided to risk the jump. As he pushed himself free of the table and landed on the floor, the camera slid from his shoulder and hit the cement with a hollow, cracking sound. Disemboweled, its film entrails spilled onto the floor. Ignatius picked it up and flipped the switch that was supposed to set it in motion, but nothing happened.