The Flying Cuspidors Read online

"but you are too intellectual.This is an affair of the heart." He sighs again. "I am never in love ofa girl before," he goes on, more worried, "and I do not know how to act.Besides, the thrush is with us only a day, and Frankie already is makingwith the eyes."

  "So what should I do, give you lessons?" The idea is so laughable Ilaugh at it. "Anyway, Frankie always makes with the eyes at thrushes."

  "Yes," Hotlips Grogan admits, "but never before have I been in love ofany of the thrushes Frankie has made with the eyes at. Frankly, Eddie, Iam worried like all get out about this."

  "Sometimes I do not even understand the way you play even before thethrush comes, Hotlips," I admit. "Like for instance yesterday when weplay 'A Spaceship Built for Two.' This is a song, as you know, that doesnot have in it many high notes, but even when you play the low notesthey sound somewhat like they maybe are trying to be high notes. It is amatter which is perplexing to one of my curious nature."

  Hotlips looks sheepish for a minute and then he says, "It is a physicaldisability with me, Eddie. When I am young and practicing with mytrumpet one day, I have an accident and get my tongue caught in themouthpiece, and it is necessary for the doctor to operate on my tongueand cut into it like maybe it is chopped liver."

  "I am sorry to hear this, Hotlips," I say.

  "I do not tell anyone this before, Eddie," Hotlips confesses. "Butafterward when I play the trumpet, I play two notes at one time, whichat first is pretty embarrassing."

  "This is great, Hotlips," I proclaim as a big idea hits me; "you canplay your own harmony. With talent like that, and my brain--"

  But Hotlips is shaking his head. "No, Eddie," he says. "The other noteis way off in the stratosphere someplace and no one can hear it, evenwhen the melody note is low. And the higher the note is you can hear,the higher the other note is you cannot hear. Besides, now I cannot evenplay what I am supposed to play, what with the thrush around."

  I sit there with my beer in my hand and think about it for a while,while Hotlips looks at me like a lost sheepdog. I scratch my head but Ido not even come up with dandruff.

  Finally, I say, "Well, thrush or not, if you play no better than you dothis afternoon, Frankie will make you walk back home without aspacesuit."

  "That is for positive," Hotlips agrees sadly. "So what can I do?"

  I am forced to admit that I do not know just what Hotlips can do."However," I say, "I have an idea." And I call Mamie over and tell herthe problem. "So you are a woman and maybe you know what my musicianfriend can do," I suggest.

  Mamie sighs. "I am at a loss for words concerning what your friend cando, but I know just how he feels, for it is like that with me, too. I amin love of a handsome young musician who comes in here, but he does nottake notice of me, except to order some beer for him and his friend."

  I click my teeth sympathetically at this news.

  "And I am too shy and dignified a girl to tell him," Mamie continuessadly. "So you see I have the same problem as your friend and cannothelp you."

  "See," I whisper to Hotlips, "it is perfectly normal."

  "Yes," he hisses back. "But I am still miserable, and the only company Idesire is that of Stella Starlight."

  "Maybe it really is your trumpet," I suggest, not very hopeful, though.

  Hotlips shakes his head. "Look," he says and takes the trumpet from hiscase and puts it to his lips, "and listen to this."

  Inwardly, I quiver like all get out, because I figure that is just whatthe management will tell us to do, once Hotlips lets go. Hotlips puffsout his cheeks and a soft note slides from the end of the trumpet--low,clear, and beautiful, without a waver in a spaceload. Only a few peopleclose by can hear the note and they do not pay us any attention, exceptto think that maybe we are a little nuttier than is normal formusicians.

  From his first note, Hotlips shifts to a higher note which is just aspretty. Then he goes on to another one and then to another, improvisinga melody I do not hear before and getting higher all the time. After awhile I can hardly hear it, it is so high, but I can feel the glass inmy hand vibrating like it wants to get out on the floor and dance. Ihold on to it with both hands, so my beer will not slosh over the side.Then there is no sound at all from the trumpet, but Hotlips' cheeks arepuffed out and he is still blowing for all he is worth--which is plenty,if he can play like this when Stella Starlight is around.

  I tap Hotlips on the shoulder. "Hotlips, that is all very well for anybats in the room which maybe can hear what you play, but--" He does notpay me any attention.

  Suddenly there is a large crinkle-crash of glass from the bar and ahoarse cry from the bartender as he sees his king-size mirror come downin little pieces. At the same time, glasses pop into fragments all overthe room and spill beer over the people holding them. Even my own glassbecomes nothing but ground glass and the beer sloshes over the table. Atthe moment, however, I do not worry about that.

  There are other things to worry about which are more important--likeHotlips' and my health, for instance, which is not likely to be so goodin the near future.

  Like I say, Hotlips does not play loud and it is noisy in the place, sothere are not too many who hear him. But they look around, all mad andcovered with beer, and see him there with the trumpet in his hand and afunny look on his big face, and they put two and two together. I can seethey figure the answer is four. And what makes things worse, they arebetween us and the front door, so we cannot sneak past like maybe we arejust tourists.

  "Hotlips," I say to him, my voice not calm like is usual, "I think it isa grand and glorious idea that we desert here and take ourselveselsewhere."

  Hotlips agrees. "But where?" he wants to know.

  I am forced to admit to myself that he comes up with a good question.

  "Over here," Mamie said suddenly, and we look across the room to seeher poking her nose through a side door.

  We do not wait for a formal invite but zoom across the floor and throughthe door into another, emptier room. Mamie slams the door and locks itjust as two or three bodies thump into it like they mean business.

  "The manager is out there and is not completely overjoyed with youractions of a short while ago," Mamie informs us, explaining, "Irecognize the thump the character makes."

  "Evidently," I surmise, "he is in no mood to talk to concerning damagesand how we can get out of paying them, so we will talk to him laterinstead of now."

  "See what I mean, though, Eddie," Hotlips says. "I play fine when StellaStarlight is not in the place. Like I say, it is love and what can I doabout it."

  "It is a problem," I say. "Even if you _do_ play, you will no doubt befired and cannot pay for the damages to the bar room and to thecustomers' clothing." Already there are holes in my plastic clothingwhere the beer splashes. "If you can only give out on the _Saturn_ likeyou play here," I sigh, "we can break all records and show Frankie--"

  Suddenly Mamie is tugging at my arm.

  "Mamie," I inquire politely of her, "why are you tugging at my arm?"

  "That is it," she informs me and leans forward and whispers in my ear.

  "But--" I say.

  "Hurry," she says, pushing us out another door. "You have only got thisafternoon to do it."

  "But--" I say again, and Hotlips and I are in the alley looking at thedoor which Mamie closes in our face.

  "What does Mamie say?" Hotlips wants to know eagerly. "Can she fix it upwith me and Stella Starlight?"

  I scratch my head. "That I do not know, Hotlips, but she does give me anidea which is so good I am surprised at myself I do not think of italone."

  Hotlips gives me a blank stare. "Which is?"

  "Come on," I say mysteriously. "You and me have got things to do."

  It is hard to say who is more nervous that night, Hotlips or a certainpiano player with my name. Frankie is smirking like always, and StellaStarlight is sitting and looking beautiful while she waits for her cue.Hotlips is fumbling with his trumpet like maybe he never sees onebefore. And I--even I am not exactly calm like always.r />
  The band begins to warm up, but we do not knock ourselves out becausethere are still no customers to speak of. Frankie's license makes itplain that he has to stay over the western hemisphere so he has to waituntil it gets dark enough there for the people to want to gonight-clubbing, even though it is not really night on the _Saturn_, ormorning or anything else.

  We play along like always, and Hotlips has his trumpet pressed into hisface, and nothing but beautiful sounds come from the band. I do not knowif Frankie is altogether happy about this, for he does not like Hotlipsand would like this chance