What's going on? Am I in shock? This kid's in shock, that much is obvious, just look at him, flat on his back and groaning and gurgling with that slug in his throat and all his blood spilling out, making a pool around us, which I'm trying to stop with my hand and it will not stop. Dan says sing to him, sing to him, that will comfort him. Sing to him? You sing to him. No way, says Dan, I would suck at it, I don't know my major from my minor. What's that? What did you say? I said I'm no musician, you sing to him. Dan, I'm blanking out, I'm losing my thoughts, my train of thought, I don't know what is going on. Dan says calm down, try to focus, don't think about anything, just look, look in front of you, that's all, zoom in on what this kid is doing, and what is this kid doing? Dying. Focus on that. I can't, Dan, I can't think. I said focus, you moron, not think. Watch him croak, that's it. I'm blanking out again. Is it that drug I took? Dan? Do you know Han, that Chinaman who--? I know Han. Obviously. What do you think I am, an idiot? Dan, I think I'm in shock and I think it's that drug I took with Han that's doing this, you know, post-traumatically. It had us quacking for hours, and now I can't think at all. Vicodin? Would Vicodin do that? I don't usually do drugs but, I don't know, I think this is a flashback, a post-traumatic... Will you shut your mouth? This kid is dying right in front of you. Right. I'm saying to Dan, I'm saying this to Dan, if I could focus I'd say this to Dan. Did you call a doctor, Dan? A doctor, right, I'll call a doctor now. I know an amazing physician on call. Dr. Avrum Pushka. Works only in this District. Is paid in diamonds. A good man.
And my sibling? Think of that, think of that word. Sibling, sibling, blind as a bat. That girl ran away again, following that Izzy loon with Adolf's fangs in his stomach. That much I can call to mind, but I still don't know why I cannot think. Why? I don't know. It's hard. It's that drug, I'm in shock. This dying kid. Is that doctor coming or what? Dan says shut your mouth, I'm calling him right now. Doctor Pushka? This is Izzy Goldlust from Goldlust and Sons. Quick, Doctor, my son is dying. Uh-huh. Thank you, Doctor. Pushka's coming, kid, try to stay calm, try not to think. And now a lady crawls up to us, a lady in a crimson wig, crying Al! Al! that goil's shot my boy, my boy Al! Al? I say. Al, says Dan, you can call him Al from now on. Wait. I know that wig, I know that lady, Al's mom it turns out, who is trying to stand up now, puffing, moaning, cussing, and with Dan's support attains that goal. And now Dan is talking to this lady, in Yiddish. I can't grasp a word of it. Is it about Al? I turn back to Al, who is nodding off. Al, stay conscious, stay with us, kid, I'll sing you a song. But I can't think of a song, I can only think of a shaggy dog story, so I start my shaggy dog story about a flock of goats that, in pursuit of rich grazing grounds, has to cross a fjord and fifty goats drown in passing on account of a thirsty and whirlpool-making troll who drinks nothing but goat's blood, but Al is oblivious. Al, I say, try to focus, do not faint or you will croak. Al says nothing, Al is unconscious by now. I lift up his hand and it plops down, a lump of clay. I'm losing him. And his mom? And Dan? Yapping away in Yiddish as this kid is dying. Dan! Madam! Dan, I think I lost-- Shut your mouth, I'm talking. Dan, I think, I think that Al is--
Bang! A loud thud, and a long groan. It's coming from that back room, says Dan. Dan and I run to that room, and what do you know. It's that bastard Izzy, says Dan. Izzy is flat on his back and groaning, and making a pool of blood on account of a slug in his stomach. That cunt, that cunt, Izzy groans. That cunt what? Dan wants to know. Orchard, Izzy groans, go...to...orchard. I say what's that? An orchard? Go...to...orchard, Izzy groans again. Do you know what that is, Dan? Dan, scratching his chin, says no. I say what orchard, you bastard? Izzy groans orchard...moo...moo. Moo? A cow in an orchard? I think it's moon, says Dan, orchard moon. Moo, Izzy puffs, and quits this world. I look at Dan, who shrugs and says Izzy was a bad man, a human turd, and had it coming, and so saying puts his hand in that bad man's mouth and pulls it out again, a fist, and what do you think: Izzy was storing Adolf's fangs in his maw. Undoing his fist, Dan proudly displays a handful. I count his spoils and point to four or so missing molars. Huh, says Dan, do you think that your--?
Wawawawawawawa! An alarm. Okay, says Dan, you and I should probably scram. I follow him through a back door and down many flights of stairs, through various salami-stinking corridors, and out of that building. What now? I'm thinking, says Dan. Why did Izzy say orchard? Why orchard? Why moo? I'm thinking, says Dan, I'm thinking. I say I think I got it, Dan, I know what orchard stands for. Stands for? says Dan. As in an acronym? No, I say, not an acronym. Think back: that thrift shop, it's on Orchard, downtown, Orchard and Stanton. Huh, says Dan, that's right, but what about moo? Still no solution for that, I say. Municipal... Ornthodontic... Organization...?
Now I'm following him down to Fifth, to grab a cab back to that thrift shop on Orchard and Stanton. I'm running, I'm running, and Dan is also running, but I'm running as fast as I can and I pass him, I'm running fast, so fast that I'm not looking and I trip on a small animal scurrying by. I fall flat on my mouth and chip my front tooth, for crying out loud. Dan is still running, but halts and turns around. What was that scurrying thing? A dog? A cat? Humph. First I look for that bit of tooth. Ah, found it. I'll try to stick it back on; I know a good orthodontist. But what was that? What did I trip on? I turn around to find out, and what do you think: not a dog, not a cat, but a small girl. Wait. Do I know that girl? I do. It's Didi, who had a doll that had no hair, and I was holding a wig, I was running from an angry mob, and found a sanctuary in that girl's flat, and in that flat, on that couch, I had a vision of Hannah stripping, and of a doll's skull cracking, and all that snow I stuck in my nostrils, and that flood of awful thoughts, awful thoughts, thoughts of approaching doom. But what is such a small child doing in this part of town at this hour, without a guardian, without so much as a nanny for that tiny hand to cling to? Is your mom not around? I say. Your pop? Didi looks away, says nothing. But Dan is back, and says, Didi, what in God's holy--? And what do you think: Didi jumps into his arms, and wails my nanny wants to find my mommy and I said I didn't want to and I said you won't find my mommy in midtown and I don't want to run around this Diamond District all day. I'm sick of running around all day, Daddy, I want to go back to Chinatown. I look at Dan. Daddy? Him? Dan, I say, is this your child? Dan is in shock now, and starts mumbling no, no, no, no, no. What's wrong, Dan? Nothing, nothing, says Dan, shut up. Is this your child, Dan? Daddy, says Didi again, I want to go back to Chinatown. Dan, I say again, what's going on? Is this your child? Why won't you talk? Dan looks anxious, afraid. Of what though? Dan? Daddy, says Didi, Daddy, I want to go back.
And without warning, Dan kicks my right shin with his right foot. I fall down. I cry out ouch, you bastard, what did you do that for? Holding onto his child, Dan turns around again and runs away, toward Sixth. This is odd. Why would Dan, if Didi is in fact his child, try to gain admission to his own flat through that living-room window with Bob and all, scratching it and tapping on it? Odd. What should I do now? Follow him? Obviously. That bastard has almost all of Adolf's fangs, and if I don't bring...ah, no, I'm wrong, that lunatic Nazi tooth aficionado is in Valhalla by now, as Izzy put it. And anyway, what about Orchard and moo? It's not Dan I'm looking for. Why should I worry about him and his spawn and his marital situation? I'm going downtown. I'm going to find out what's in that damn thrift shop. I walk down to Fifth and wait for a cab.
