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He kissed her and said, "What about some nice normal sex?"
"All right," she murmured. "It's late and I'm tired, but I wouldlike to have a man who's really in love with me. You are in love with me, aren't you? Despite all our troubles?"
"I must be," he said. "There have been times this past year whenI was almost out of my mind wondering what could have happened to you."
He stood up and said, "I'll get into my pajamas after I showerand shave."
"I'm clean," she said. "I'll wait right here for you. You cancarry me tobed. It'll be so nice."
Ten minutes later, having sped through his preparations, hereturned to the front room. She was sitting slumped on the sofa, fast asleep. Hegri
CHAPTER 32
Forrest J Ackerman awoke with his head on the desk and the finally editedpackage of the latest issue of Vampirella beside him. He got up andshook his head. When he had finished his work this morning, he had intended torush down to the post office on Robertson and mail it out. But he had somehowfallen asleep.
The first thought was: The painting! Had he been drugged so thatit could be stolen again?
But it was leaning against the wall by the desk. He sighed withrelief, partof which could be repressed anger at Woolston Heepish. Somethingreally shouldbe done about that fellow. He was not only a thief, he was dangerous. Anybodywho would get two women to strip in order to seduce him out of thepainting--andbefore witnesses--was not only dangerous, he was mad.
Forry stumbled into the kitchen, washed his face in the sink, andthen picked up the bulky envelope containing Vampirella. He was outsidebefore he remembered that he did not have a car. One more count againstWoolston Heepish!
At that moment, like the Gray Lensman or Batman arriving to savethe situation, the Dummocks drove up. Renzo crawled out of the car and, on all fours, progressed slowly towards the house. He was a youth of thirty- five, ofmedium height, black haired, ruddy faced, black moustached, paunched, and ski
Forry said, "I'd like to borrow your car. I have to run to the
post office." "All yours," said Renzo, not looking up at him. "The keys," Forry said. "The keys." "You want Huli, you can have her. The cunt's all yours. Just keep
me in cigarettes, food, booze, and typing paper, and she's all yours, Forry, old buddy. Ask her, she doesn't mind."
"I want the keys to your car, not your wife!" Forry said loudly.
Renzo continued to crawl towards the door. He turned his head and said, "Hull! Hurry up, help me up! Got the keys?"
Huli stood swaying and blinking, looking like a giant drunkenowl. "What keys? To the car or the house?"
"Fuck it! Forry, can you open the door for me?"
Forry looked into the car. As he had suspected, the keys werestill in the ignition. He did not see how Renzo could have driven in his conditionwithout smashing up, but the luck of drunkards and egoists had held out.
He walked back and opened the door for the two. After Renzo hadcrawled in and Huli had fallen on her face crossing the threshold, he started toclose the door. But be said, "Don't you dare puke on any of my stuff! You do, and out yougo! Pronto!"
"Why, Forry!" Huli said. "Have we ever puked on anything ofyours?"
"Just my Creature from the Black Lagoon bust," Forry said: "Iforgave you, since it could be cleaned. But if you vomit on any of my books orpaintings, or anything at all anymore, out you go!"
"You must really be mad at us, Forry darling!" Huli said. "I'venever seen you angry before. I thought you were a saint!"
"If I puke, you can have Huli," Renzo said, looking up at Forryfrom his supine position in the middle of the floor. "Just so you don't tossour ass out of here. I'm writing the Great Cosmic Novel now, Forry. Not the GreatAmerican Novel. The Cosmic Novel. It makes Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, and NormanMailer look sick. I'm really the greatest creator of them all, Forry, myMaecenas, patron ofthe arts, protector of the gifted and the genius. Your name will godown in history as Forrest J (No Period) Ackerman, the man who gave RenzoDummock a roof over his head, a bed to sleep in, a desk to write on, food, booze, cigarettes, and typing paper. And got my typewriter out of hock for me, me, Renzothe Magnificent."
The pity of it was that Renzo believed that he was the greatest. He had believed it since he was eighteen. The world owed him a livingbecause the world was going to benefit. The world, as typified by Forry Ackerman, owedit to him.
Dummock had said he would do anything, even suck cock if he hadto, so hecould pursue the call of Apollo. He would do anything except work. Work degradedhim, tired him, took precious time from his writing. It was all rightfor Huli to work, she should support him while he wrote. Too bad Huli's apathyand occasional fits of hysteria kept her from holding a steady job. Butit couldn't be helped, and if she would suck a few cocks now and then to keep aroof over their head and booze and cigarettes and typing paper at his elbow, what was the harm in that? Forry had turned down an offer by Huli to blow him. Hesaid that he preferred that she keep the house clean and act as hostess now andthen when he had a big party. Huli had said she would, but it was easier, andmore fun, sucking cock. She kept her cunt reserved for Renzo, who got killinglyjealous atthe thought of another man sticking his prick into it. So far, shehad done a miserable job as a housekeeper.
Forry turned away from them, swearing that he would kick them outat the first chance, and knowing that he wouldn't. He got into the car, abeat-up 1960Ford with bald tires, and verified what he had suspected. The fuelindicator was on zero.
Despite this, the motor started up and got him one block downOlympic beforesputtering out. He walked to the nearest gas station and returned with a canful. Somehow, he never knew how it worked out, he always borrowed their car when it was out of gas.
When he got back to the house, he found Alys Merrie sitting onthe sofa in the front room. There was an odor of vomit in the house. Renzo had come throughagain.
"Hello, Alys!" he said, his heart dropping like an elevator withsnappedcables. "What brings you here? And how did you get in?"
"You gave me a key long ago, remember?" "And I asked for it back, and you gave it to me," he said. "So I had a couple of duplicates made in the interim. Aren't you
glad to see
me, Forry? There was a time..." "Excuse me, I got to attend to something." He walked to the foot of the steps and looked up. Halfway to the
landing was the nauseating pool. And Huli had not even bothered to clean it up!
He had returned because he had some vital correspondence to clearup beforehe went to Wendy's to sleep. But Renzo's spoor and Alys Merrie weretoo much to put up with at this time. He would take off like Seaton after"Blackie" Duquesne.
Alys Merrie thought differently. She was a blonde of mediumheight and goodshape, about forty years old. She had been married, but, on meetinghim at a world convention, had, as she put it, "gone ape over that divineForry." Forryhad been amused and flattered for a long time, but she had become anuisance. He wasn't in love with her, and, while her adulation was pleasing, itgot stickyafter a while. Especially since her husband had threatened to sue himas corespondent.