The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (e book reader android .txt) 📖

Not

Said A Word To Impeach His Friendship To You. But I Must Set Him

Aside As A Man Capable Of Transacting This Business. It Is Not De

Son Ressort,  And I Know That He Has Difficulties To Combat With,  If

He Undertakes It,  Which Are Insuperable. Now,  When I Talk Of Men Of

Business,  I Will Explain Myself. I Mean Three For Example: Mr.

Wallis,  If Ever You Consult Him,  Mr. Gregg,  And Lavie. I Would Also

Seriously Apply To My Lord Gower For His Advice,  And Make Him A

Confidant In What Relates To This Business. He Has Very Powerful

Motives For Interesting Himself In It. All Others I Would Silence At

Once

Slippers And Drew On A Bath-Robe. "Of Course,  She Does. All The Girls Do

Now. She's Just As Idealistic As I Am."

 

He Wrapped The Bath-Robe Around Him And Departed For The Showers,

Singing Gaily:

 

 

 

 

                "Say It With Music,

                 Beautiful Music;

                 Somehow They'd Rather Be Kissed

                 To The Strains Of Chopin Or Liszt.

                 A Melody Mellow Played On A Cello

                 Helps Mister Cupid Along--

                 So Say It With A Beautiful Song."

 

 

 

 

Shortly He Returned,  Still Singing The Same Song,  His Voice Full And

Happy. He Continued To Sing As He Dressed,  Paying No Attention To Norry,

Completely Lost In His Own Elysian Thoughts.

 

To Hugh And Cynthia The Musical Comedy Was A Complete Success,  Although

The Music,  Written By An Undergraduate,  Was Strangely Reminiscent Of

Several Recent Broadway Song Successes,  And The Plot Of The Comedy Got

Lost After The First Ten Minutes And Was Never Recovered Until The Last

Two. It Was Amusing To Watch Men Try To Act Like Women,  And Two Of The

"Ladies" Of The Chorus Were Patently Drunk. _Cleopatra_,  The Leading

Lady,  Was A Wrestler And Looked It,  His Biceps Swelling Magnificently

Every Time He Raised His Arms To Embrace The Comic _Antony_. It Was

Glorious Nonsense Badly Enough Done To Be Really Funny. Hugh And

Cynthia,  Along With The Rest Of The Audience,  Laughed Joyously--And Held

Hands.

 

After The Play Was Over,  They Returned To The Nu Delta House And Danced

Until Two In The Morning. During One Dance Cynthia Whispered To Him,

"Hugh,  Get Me A Drink Or I'll Pass Out."

 

Hugh,  Forgetting His Indignation Of The Year Before,  Went In Search Of

Vinton And Deprived That Young Man Of A Pint Of Gin Without A Scruple.

He And Cynthia Then Sneaked Behind The House And Did Away With The

Liquor. Other Couples Were Drinking,  All Of Them Surreptitiously,

Leonard Gates Having Laid Down The Law In No Uncertain Manner,  And All

Of The Brothers Were A Little Afraid Of Gates.

 

Cynthia Slept Until Noon The Next Day,  And Hugh Went To His Classes. In

The Afternoon They Attended A Baseball Game,  And Then Returned To The

Fraternity House For Another Tea-Dance. The Prom Was To Be That Night.

Hugh Assured Cynthia That It Was Going To Be A "Wet Party," And That

Vinton Had Sold Him A Good Supply Of Scotch.

 

The Campus Was Rife With Stories: This Was The Wettest Prom On Record,

The Girls Were Drinking As Much As The Men,  Some Of The Fraternities Had

Made The Sky The Limit,  The Dormitories Were Being Invaded By Couples In

The Small Hours Of The Night,  And So On. Hugh Heard Numerous Stories But

Paid No Attention To Them. He Was Supremely Happy,  And That Was All That

Mattered. True,  Several Men Had Advised Him To Bring Plenty Of Liquor

Along To The Prom If He Wanted To Have A Good Time,  And He Was Careful

To Act On Their Advice,  Especially As Cynthia Had Assured Him That She

Would Dance Until Doomsday If He Kept Her "Well Oiled With Hooch."

 

The Gymnasium Was Gaily Decorated For The Prom,  The Walls Hidden With

Greenery,  The Rafters Twined With The College Colors And Almost Lost

Behind Hundreds Of Small Japanese Lanterns. The Fraternity Booths Were

Made Of Fir Boughs,  And The Orchestra Platform In The Middle Of The

Floor Looked Like A Small Forest Of Saplings.

 

The Girls Were Beautiful In The Soft Glow Of The Lanterns,  Their Arms

And Shoulders Smooth And White; The Men Were Trim And Neat In Their

Tuxedos,  The Dark Suits Emphasizing The Brilliant Colors Of The Girls'

Gowns.

 

It Was Soon Apparent That Some Of The Couples Had Got At Least Half

"Oiled" Before The Dance Began,  And Before An Hour Had Passed Many More

Couples Gave Evidence Of Imbibing More Freely Than Wisely. Occasionally

A Hysterical Laugh Burst Shrilly Above The Pounding Of The Drums And The

Moaning Of The Saxophones. A Couple Would Stagger Awkwardly Against

Another Couple And Then Continue Unevenly On An Uncertain Way.

 

The Stags Seemed To Be The Worst Offenders. Many Of Them Were Joyously

Drunk,  Dashing Dizzily Across The Floor To Find A Partner,  And Once

Having Taken Her From A Friend,  Dragging Her About,  Happily Unconscious

Of Anything But The Girl And The Insistent Rhythm Of The Music.

 

The Musicians Played As If In A Frenzy,  The Drums Pound-Pounding A

Terrible Tom-Tom,  The Saxophones Moaning And Wailing,  The Violins

Singing Sensuously,  Shrilly As If In Pain,  An Exquisite Searing Pain.

 

Boom,  Boom,  Boom,  Boom. "Stumbling All Around,  Stumbling All Around,

Stumbling All Around So Funny--" Close-Packed The Couples Moved Slowly

About The Gymnasium,  Body Pressed Tight To Body,  Swaying In Place--Boom,

Boom,  Boom,  Boom--"Stumbling Here And There,  Stumbling Everywhere--"

Six Dowagers,  The Chaperons,  Sat In A Corner,  Gossiped,  And Idly Watched

The Young Couples.... A Man Suddenly Released His Girl And Raced

Clumsily For The Door,  One Hand Pressed To His Mouth,  The Other

Stretched Uncertainly In Front Of Him.

 

Always The Drums Beating Their Terrible Tom-Tom,  Their Primitive,

Blood-Maddening Tom-Tom.... Boom,  Boom,  Boom,  Boom--"I Like It Just A

Little Bit,  Just A Little Bit,  Quite A Little Bit." The Music Ceased,

And Some Of The Couples Disentangled Themselves; Others Waited In Frank

Embrace For The Orchestra To Begin The Encore.... A Boy Slumped In A

Chair,  His Head In His Hands. His Partner Sought Two Friends. They

Helped The Boy Out Of The Gymnasium.

 

The Orchestra Leader Lifted His Bow. The Stags Waited In A Broken Line,

Looking For Certain Girls. The Music Began,  Turning A Song With Comic

Words Into Something Weirdly Sensuous--Strange Syncopations,  Uneven,

Startling Drum-Beats--A Mad Tom-Tom. The Couples Pressed Close Together

Again,  Swaying,  Barely Moving In Place--Boom,  Boom,  Boom,

Boom--"Second-Hand Hats,  Second-Hand Clothes--That's Why They Call Me

Second-Hand Rose...." The Saxophones Sang The Melody With Passionate

Despair; The Violins Played Tricks With A Broken Heart; The Clarinets

Rose Shrill In Pain; The Drums Beat On--Boom,  Boom,  Boom,  Boom.... A

Boy And Girl Sought A Dark Corner. He Shielded Her With His Body While

She Took A Drink From A Flask. Then He Turned His Face To The Corner And

Drank. A Moment Later They Were Back On The Floor,  Holding Each Other

Tight,  Drunkenly Swaying... Finally The Last Strains,  A Wall Of

Agony--"Ev-'Ry One Knows That I'm Just Sec-Ond-Hand Rose--From Sec-Ond

Av-En-Ue."

 

The Couples Moved Slowly Off The Floor,  The Pounding Of The Drums Still

In Their Ears And In Their Blood; Some Of Them Sought The Fraternity

Booths; Some Of The Girls Retired To Their Dressing-Room,  Perhaps To

Have Another Drink; Many Of The Men Went Outside For A Smoke And To Tip

A Flask Upward. Through The Noise,  The Sex-Madness,  The Half-Drunken

Dancers,  Moved Men And Women Quite Sober,  The Men Vainly Trying To

Shield The Women From Contact With Any One Who Was Drunk. There Was An

Angry Light In Those Men's Eyes,  But Most Of Them Said Nothing,  Merely

Kept Close To Their Partners,  Ready To Defend Them From Any Too

Assertive Friend.

 

Again The Music,  Again The Tom-Tom Of The Drums. On And On For Hours. A

Man "Passed Out Cold" And Had To Be Carried From The Gymnasium. A Girl

Got A "Laughing Jag" And Shrieked With Idiotic Laughter Until Her

Partner Managed To Lead Her Protesting Off The Floor. On And On,  The

Constant Rhythmic Wailing Of The Fiddles,  Syncopated Passion Screaming

With Lust,  The Drums,  Horribly Primitive; Drunken Embraces.... "Oh,

Those Wabash Blues--I Know I Got My Dues--A Lone-Some Soul Am I--I Feel

That I Could Die..." Blues,  Sobbing,  Despairing Blues.... Orgiastic

Music--Beautiful,  Hideous! "Can-Dle Light That Gleams--Haunts Me In My

Dreams..." The Drums Boom,  Boom,  Boom,  Booming--"I'll Pack My Walking

Shoes,  To Lose--Those Wa-Bash Blues..."

 

Hour After Hour--On And On. Flushed Faces,  Breaths Hot With Passion And

Whisky.... Pretty Girls,  Cool And Sober,  Dancing With Men Who Held Them

With Drunken Lasciviousness; Sober Men Hating The Whisky Breaths Of The

Girls.... On And On,  The Drunken Carnival To Maddening Music--The

Passion,  The Lust.

 

Both Hugh And Cynthia Were Drinking,  And By Midnight Both Of Them Were

Drunk,  Too Drunk Any Longer To Think Clearly. As They Danced,  Hugh Was

Aware Of Nothing But Cynthia's Body,  Her Firm Young Body Close To His.

His Blood Beat With The Pounding Of The Drums. He Held Her Tighter And

Tighter--The Gymnasium,  The Other Couples,  A Swaying Mist Before His

Eyes.

 

When The Dance Ended,  Cynthia Whispered Huskily,  "Ta-Take Me Somewhere,

Hugh."

 

Strangely Enough,  He Got The Significance Of Her Words At Once. His

Blood Raced,  And He Staggered So Crazily That Cynthia Had To Hold Him By

The Arm.

 

"Sure--Sure; I'll--I'll Ta-Take You Some-Somewhere. I--I,  Too,

Cyntheea."

 

They Walked Unevenly Out Of The Gymnasium,  Down The Steps,  And Through

The Crowd Of Smokers Standing Outside. Hardly Aware Of What He Was

Doing,  Hugh Led Cynthia To Keller Hall,  Which Was Not More Than Fifty

Yards Distant.

 

He Took A Flask Out Of His Pocket. "Jush One More Drink," He Said

Thickly And Emptied The Bottle. Then,  Holding Cynthia Desperately By The

Arm,  He Opened The Door Of Keller Hall And Stumbled With Her Up The

Stairs To Norry Parker's Room. Fortunately The Hallways Were Deserted,

And No One Saw Them. The Door Was Unlocked,  And Hugh,  After Searching

Blindly For The Switch,  Finally Clicked On The Lights And Mechanically

Closed The Door Behind Him.

 

He Was Very Dizzy. He Wanted Another Drink--And He Wanted Cynthia. He

Put His Arms Around Her And Pulled Her Drunkenly To Him. The Door Of One

Of The Bedrooms Opened,  And Norry Parker Stood Watching Them. He Had

Spent The Evening At The Home Of A Musical Professor And Had Returned To

His Room Only A Few Minutes Before. His Face Went White When He Saw The

Embracing Couple.

 

"Hugh!" He Said Sharply.

 

Hugh And Cynthia,  Still Clinging To Each Other,  Looked At Him. Slowly

Cynthia Took Her Arms From Around Hugh's Neck And Forced Herself From

His Embrace. Norry Disappeared Into His Room And Came Out A Minute Later

With His Coat On; He Had Just Begun To Undress When He Had Heard A Noise

In The Study.

 

"I'll See You Home,  Cynthia," He Said Quietly. He Took Her Arm And Led

Her Out Of The Room--And Locked The Door Behind Him. Hugh Stared At Them

Blankly,  Swaying Slightly,  Completely Befuddled. Cynthia Went With Norry

Willingly Enough,  Leaning Heavily On His Arm And Occasionally Sniffing.

 

When He Returned To His Room,  Hugh Was Sitting On The Floor Staring At A

Photograph Of Norry's Mother. He Had Been Staring At It For Ten Minutes,

Holding It First At Arm's Length And Then Drawing It Closer And Closer

To Him. No Matter Where He Held It,  He Could Not See What It Was--And He

Was Determined To See It.

 

Norry Walked Up To Him And Reached For The Photograph.

 

"Give Me That," He Said Curtly. "Take Your Hands On My Mother's

Picture."

 

"It's Not," Hugh Exclaimed Angrily; "It's Not. It's My Musher,  My Own

Mu-Musher--My,  My Own Dear Musher. Oh,  Oh!"

 

He Slumped Down In A Heap And Began To Sob Bitterly,  Muttering,  "Musher,

Musher,  Musher."

 

Norry Was Angry. The Whole Scene Was Revolting To Him. His Best Friend

Was A Disgusting Sight,  Apparently Not Much Better Than A Gibbering

Idiot. And Hugh Had Shamefully Abused His Hospitality. Norry Was No

Longer Gentle And Boyish; He Was Bitterly Disillusioned.

 

"Get Up," He Said Briefly. "Get Up And Go To Bed."

 

"Tha's My Musher. You Said It Wasn't My--My Musher." Hugh Looked Up,  His

Face Wet With Maudlin Tears.

 

Norry Leaned Over And Snatched The Picture From Him. "Take Your Dirty

Hands Off Of That," He Snapped. "Get Up And Go To Bed."

 

"Tha's My Musher." Hugh Was Gently Persistent.

 

"It's Not Your Mother. You Make Me Sick. Go To Bed." Norry Tugged At

Hugh's Arm Impotently; Hugh Simply Sat Limp,  A Dead Weight.

 

Norry's Gray Eyes Narrowed. He Took A Glass,  Filled It With Cold Water

In The Bedroom,  And Then Deliberately Dashed The Water Into Hugh's Face.

 

Then He Repeated The Performance.

 

Hugh Shook His Head And Rubbed His Hands Wonderingly Over His Face. "I'm

No Good," He Said Almost Clearly. "I'm No Good."

 

"You Certainly Aren't. Come On; Get Up And Go To Bed." Again Norry

Tugged At His Arm,  And This Time Hugh,  Clinging Clumsily To The Edge Of

The Table By Which He Was Sitting,  Staggered To His Feet.

 

"I'm A Blot," He Declared Mournfully; "I'm