Miss Lonelyhearts Read Online Free Page A

of beer. When he turned to beg
the man's pardon, he received a punch in the mouth. Later he found himself at a
table in the back room, playing with a loose tooth. He wondered why his hat did
not fit and discovered a lump on the back of his head. He must have fallen. The
hurdle was higher than he had thought.
    His anger swung in large drunken
circles. What in Christ's name was this Christ business? And
children gravely dancing? He would ask Shrike to be transferred to the
sports department.
    Ned Gates came in to see how he was
getting along and suggested the fresh air: Gates was also very drunk. When they
left the speakeasy together, they found that it was snowing.
    Miss Lonelyhearts '
anger grew cold and sodden like the snow. He and his companion staggered along
with their heads down, turning corners at random, until they found themselves
in front of the little park. A light was burning in the comfort station and
they went in to warm up.
    An old man was sitting on one of the
toilets. The door of his booth was propped open and he was sitting on the
turned-down toilet cover.
    Gates hailed him. "Well, well,
smug as a bug in a rug, eh?"
    The old man jumped with fright, but
finally managed to speak. "What do you want? Please let me alone." His
voice was like a flute; it did not vibrate.
    "If you can't get a woman, get
a clean old man," Gates sang.
    The old man looked as if he were
going to cry, but suddenly laughed instead. A terrible cough started under his
laugh, and catching at the bottom of his lungs, it ripped into his throat. He
turned away to wipe his mouth.
    Miss Lonelyhearts tried to get Gates to leave, but he refused to go without the old man. They
both grabbed him and pulled him out of the stall and through the door of the
comfort station. He went soft in their arms and started to giggle. Miss Lonelyhearts fought off a desire to hit him.
    The snow had stopped falling and it
had grown very cold. The old man did not have an overcoat, but said that he
found the cold exhilarating. He carried a cane and wore gloves because, as he
said, he detested red hands.
    Instead of going back to Delehanty's they went to an Italian cellar close by the
park. The old man tried to get them to drink coffee, but they told him to mind
his own business and drank rye. The whisky burned Miss Lonely-hearts' cut lip.
    Gates was annoyed by the old man's
elaborate manners. "Listen, you," he said, "cut out the
gentlemanly stuff and tell us the story of your
life."
    The old man drew himself up like a
little girl making a muscle.
    "Aw, come off," Gates
said. "We're scientists. He's Havelock Ellis and I'm Krafft-Ebing. When
did you first discover homosexualistic tendencies in
yourself?"
    "What do you mean, sir?
I..."
    " Yeh ,
I know, but how about your difference from other men?"
    "How dare you..." He gave
a little scream of indignation.
    "Now, now," Miss Lonelyhearts said, "he didn't mean to insult you.
Scientists have terribly bad manners...But you are a pervert, aren't you?"
    The old man raised his cane to strike
him. Gates grabbed it from behind and wrenched it out of his hand. He began to
cough violently and held his black satin tie to his mouth. Still coughing he
dragged himself to a chair in the back of the room.
    Miss Lonelyhearts felt as he had felt years before, when he had accidentally stepped on a small
frog. Its spilled guts had filled him with pity, but when its suffering had
become real to his senses, his pity had turned to rage and he had beaten it
frantically until it was dead.
    "I'll get the bastard's life
story," he shouted, and started after him. Gates followed laughing.
    At their approach, the old man
jumped to his feet. Miss Lonelyhearts caught him and
forced him back into his chair.
    "We're psychologists," he
said. "We want to help you. What's your name?"
    "George B. Simpson."
    "What does the B stand
for?"
    " Bramhall ."
    "Your age,
please, and the nature of your quest?" "By what right do you
ask?"
    "Science gives me