Lana pushed the door open and hollered out into the street, “Hey, you. Get off my curb, you character.”

“Please,” a rich voice answered from the street, pausing to think of some excuse. “I am only resting my rather broken feet.”

“Go rest them someplace else. Get that crappy wagon away from in front my business.”

“Let me assure you that I did not choose to collapse here before your gas chamber of a den. I did not return here of my own volition. My feet have simply ceased to function. I am paralyzed.”

“Go get paralyzed down the block. All I need is you hanging around here again to ruin my investment. You look like a queer with that earring. People’ll think this is a gay bar. Go on.”

“People will never make that mistake. Without a doubt you operate the most dismal bar in the city. May I interest you in purchasing a hot dog?”

Darlene came to the door and said, “Well, look who it is. How’s your poor momma?”

“Oh, my God,” Ignatius bellowed. “Why did Fortuna lead me to this spot?”

“Hey, Jones,” Lana Lee called. “Quit knocking that broom and come chase this character away.”

“Sorry. Bouncer wage star at fifty dollar a week.”

“You sure treat your poor momma cruel,” Darlene said out the door.

“I don’t imagine that either of you ladies has read Boethius,” Ignatius sighed.

“Don’t talk to him,” Lana said to Darlene. “He’s a fucking smartaleck. Jones, I’ll give you about two seconds to come out here before I get you picked up on a vagrancy rap along with this character. I’m getting fed up with smartasses in general.”

“Goodness knows what storm trooper will descend upon me and beat me senseless,” Ignatius observed coolly. “You can’t frighten me. I’ve already had my trauma for the day.”

“Ooo-wee!” Jones said when he looked out the door. “The green cap mother. In person. Live.”

“I see that you’ve wisely decided to hire a particularly terrifying Negro to protect you against your enraged and cheated customers,” the green cap mother said to Lana Lee.

“Hustle him off,” Lana said to Jones.

“Whoa! How you hustle off a elephan?”

“Look at those dark glasses. No doubt his system is swimming in dope.”

“Get the hell back in there,” Lana said to Darlene, who was staring at Ignatius. She pushed Darlene and said to Jones, “Okay. Get him.”

“Get out your razor and slash me,” Ignatius said as Lana and Darlene went in. “Throw lye in my face. Stab me. You wouldn’t realize, of course, that it was my interest in civil rights which led to my becoming a crippled vendor of franks. I lost a particularly successful position because of my stand on the racial question. My broken feet are the indirect result of my sensitive social conscience.”

“Whoa! Levy Pant kick your ass out for tryina get all them po color people throwed in jail, huh?”

“How do you know about that?” Ignatius asked guardedly. “Were you involved in that particularly abortive coup?”

“No. I hear peoples talkin aroun.”

“You did?” Ignatius asked interestedly. “No doubt they made some mention of my carriage and bearing. Thus, I am recognizable. I hardly suspected that I have become a legend. Perhaps I abandoned that movement too hastily.” Ignatius was delighted. This was developing into a bright day after many bleak ones. “I have probably become a martyr of sorts.” He belched. “Would you care for a hot dog? I extend the same courteous service to all colors and creeds. Paradise Vendors has been a pioneer in the field of public accommodations.”

“How come a white cat like you, talkin so good, sellin weenies?”

“Please blow your smoke elsewhere. My respiratory system, unfortunately, is below par. I suspect that I am the result of particularly weak conception on the part of my father. His sperm was probably emitted in a rather offhand manner.”

This was luck, Jones thought. The fat mother dropped out of the sky just when he needed him most.

“You mus be outa your min man. You oughta have you a good job, big Buick, all that shit. Whoa! Air condition, color TV…”

“I have a very pleasant occupation,” Ignatius answered icily. “Outdoor work, no supervision. The only pressure is on the feet.”

“If I go to college I wouldn be draggin no meat wagon aroun sellin peoples a lotta garbage and shit.”

“Please! Paradise products are of the very highest quality.” Ignatius rapped his cutlass against the curb. “Anyone employed by that dubious bar is not in a position to question another’s occupation.”

“Shit, you think I like the Night of Joy? Ooo-wee. I wanna get someplace. I like to get someplace good, be gainfully employ, make me a livin wage.”

“Just as I suspected,” Ignatius said angrily. “In other words, you want to become totally bourgeois. You people have all been brainwashed. I imagine that you’d like to become a success or something equally vile.”

“Hey, now you gettin me. Whoa!”

“I really don’t have the time to discuss the errors of your value judgments. However, I would like some information from you. Do you by any chance have a woman in that den who is given to reading?”

“Yeah. She all the time slippin me somethin to read, tellin me I be improvin myself. She pretty decent.”

“Oh, my God.” The blue and yellow eyes flashed. “Is there any way that I can meet this paragon?”

Jones wondered what this was all about. He said, “Whoa! You wanna see her, you come around some night, see her dancin with her pet.”

“Good grief. Don’t tell me that she is this Harlett O’Hara.”

“Yeah. She Harla O’Horror all right.”

“Boethius plus a pet,” Ignatius mumbled. “What a discovery.”

“She be openin in a coupla three days, man. You oughta get your ass down here. This the very fines ack I ever seen. Whoa!”

“I can only imagine,” Ignatius said respectfully. Some brilliant satire on the decadent Old South being cast before the unaware swine in the Night of Joy audience. Poor Harlett. “Tell me. What sort of pet does she have?”

“Hey! I cain tell you that, man. You gotta see for yourself. This ack a big surprise. Harla got somethin to say, too. This ain jus a reglar strip ack. Harla talkin.”

Good heavens. Some incisive commentary which no one in her audiences could fully comprehend. He must see Harlett. They must communicate.

“There is one thing I would like to know, sir,” Ignatius said. “Is the Nazi proprietress of this cesspool around here every night?”

“Who? Miss Lee? No.” Jones smiled at himself. The sabotage was working too perfectly. The fat mother really wanted to come to the Night of Joy. “She say Harla O’Horror so perfec, she so fine, she don’t havta be comin aroun at night to supervise. She say jus as soon Harla be openin, she leavin for a vacation in Califonia. Whoa!”

“What luck,” Ignatius slobbered. “Well, I shall be here to see Miss O’Hara’s act. You may secretly reserve a ringside table for me. I must see and hear everything she does.”

“Ooo-wee. You be real welcome, man. Drag your ass over in a coupla days. We give you the fines service in the house.”

“Jones, are you talking to that character or what?” Lana demanded from the door.

“Don’t worry,” Ignatius told her. “I’m leaving. Your henchman has terrified me completely. I shall never make the mistake of even passing by this vile pigsty.”

“Good,” Lana said and swung the door closed.

Ignatius gloated at Jones conspiratorially.

“Hey, listen,” Jones said. “Before you be leavin, tell me somethin. Wha you think a color cat can do to stop bein vagran or employ below the minimal wage?”

“Please.” Ignatius fumbled through his smock to find the curb and raise himself. “You can’t possibly realize how confused you are. Your value judgments are all wrong. When you get to the top or wherever it is that you want to go, you’ll have a nervous breakdown or worse. Do you know of any Negroes with ulcers? Of course not. Live contentedly in some hovel. Thank Fortuna that you have no Caucasian parent hounding you. Read Boethius.”