Thompson’s Theories of Diet and Health

[Thompson]

Look, I don’t mean to frighten you or anything but I’ve been thinking about suicide lately, said Thompson to Badfellow.

That’s perfectly normal, said Badfellow, for a man in your condition. How ya gonna off yourself?

Well, if we had a swimming pool I would tie a big weight around my ankle and drown.

We don’t have a swimming pool.

Yes I know that Badfellow I was just explaining. I can’t close the windows and turn the gas on because I’m not allowed in the kitchen. Also, since studying and reading up on How to Make a Hangman’s Noose, I’ll never get the hang of it, so I’ve given up on that idea too. I guess I’d have to go with hard drugs. Can’t get ‘em at Walgreens though, gotta go downtown. Forget it.

How ‘bout you just sit there and sulk yourself to death?

Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll give that a try.

[Thompson]

Have you seen Thompson?

Yes, he is dead.

Does he smell dead?

I kicked him really hard in the kidney and he didn’t flinch.

Did you notify the police?

Yes, they said they could maybe get over here day after tomorrow and do an autopsy.

I liked Thompson.

I didn’t.

Did he leave a will, or a suicide note?

No, he pissed all over the floor though.

[Thompson]

He might not be dead, he just might be in a coma.

No, I smelled him and he smells dead.

Did you give him mouth to mouth resuscitation?

No.

You didn’t butt fuck him or anything after you figured out he was dead, did you?

No I didn’t. I resent that remark.

We have to ask these questions son , did you want to butt fuck him?

No I didn’t, I’ve never butt fucked anybody. Well, that’s not entirely true.

Okay then, have a seat in the interview room. I’ll get us a couple of hot coffees.

[Thompson]

So how well did you know this Thompson fellow?

Not too well.

Well enough to kill him and make it look like a suicide?

You can’t be serious. Everybody knew Thompson and nobody liked him except maybe Hugh.

Why did Hugh like him?

I don’t know, maybe he didn’t like him.

You think Hugh killed him?

No.

Who killed him?

He committed suicide. Plain as day. Take a look at his arms and legs. See all those scabs and sores? You can’t go around with scabs and sores like that.

[Thompson]

He was a leper?

Yes.

Well we should all be glad he killed himself.

We are all glad.

Is there going to be a funeral?

No, they don’t give funerals to people who kill thenselves.

Don’t they burn him up and give somebody the ashes?

Well, they tell people they do, and they promise to call when the ashes are ready for pick-up. But they don’t.

[Thompson]

Where are you taking Thompson?

Down to the precinct.

What for?

Well, there’s a few of the boys down there that like that back door action, and since Thompson is already dead I don’t see how it can hurt.

But the leprosy?

Yeah I forgot. I don’t think it will make any difference.

Okay. They still gonna burn him and give the Gang the ashes?

I think so. I’m pretty sure they will tell you that’s what they’re gonna do.

[Thompson]

Hey, Otto said to Dix, You hear Thompson is dead?

No, he’s probably just in a coma.

Well they’ve been butt fucking him all over the place.

With that big ol’ hemorrhoid he’d got?

Apparently so, I didn’t butt fuck him.

Gang Dog was licking his butt the other day. He committed suicide I heard.

Yeah, he sulked himself to death.

That must have been painful. What do we do now?

Well, we gotta wait for the autopsy report.

Can I get dibs on his cane?

I guess, yeah. He’s got two canes you know.

Did you like Thompson?

No.

The stripper girls liked him.

[Thompson]

He did not kill himself, and he was not murdered, he croaked out from natural causes. The autopsy guy said that.

Did he feel much pain?

Yes, he felt a considerable amount of pain, but it was natural pain not imitation pain.

Thompson once told me he hated imitation pain.

We should bury him by the gutter. Put a miniature marker there. Let the dogs all piss on it. He would like that.

Yes, I think you are right. Could become a famous grave later on. You know, be on Google Maps.

[Thompson]

They gotta burn him first. Oettinger and Nausea volunteered to go down there and make sure the ashes they were Thompson’s ashes, and not some impostor’s ashes or plain left over ashes. Oettinger got into a fist fight with the assistant funeral director. It was no match of course and the assistant funeral director had to take an ambulance to the hospital. So the funeral home was now bossed by the janitor. He put Thompson in the oven and burned him then swept his ashes into a plastic jug. Oettinger and Nausea were witness to this and would swear to it on a stack of bibles.

That’s pure Thompson ash in that plastic jug, they said.

[Thompson]

Okay, let’s but the plastic jug in the dirt hole and cover it up. Are we close enough to the gutter?

Close enough. What about the marker? Do we etch some inscription in it?

Naw. Wait! What did Thompson always harp about? Something without sound?

Yeah, ‘He said without sound.’

Let’s etch that into the marker.

That sounds good. He Said Without Sound. Should we etch Thompson in the marker?

No, not enough room. It will be an anonymous grave of a man who said things without sound.

[Thompson]

Later on, a man passed by and saw the marker. He suffered from a sore shoulder. He ate those powdered aspirins but they didn’t really work. Maybe a little bit. Anyway, he was struck by the inscription. He was trying to say things without sound too! Right now, though, he had to tend to his bleeding left eye and sore shoulder.

[Thompson]

The thing with a bleeding eye is you can’t put a handkerchief on it and stop it. It bleeds this way and that. Very frustrating. You could pull the whole eyeball out but that might not stop the bleeding. So you fidget and fuss .

[Thompson]

Then a girl walked by, well a woman, but I call women girls. She paused, and studied the inscription, He Said Without Sound. What does that mean, she asked herself? How can you say something without sound? There was a big ol’ Pitt bull behind the gate giving the shark eye. He didn’t bark at her, which made her nervous, most dogs barked at her when she walked by. She decided to test this sound shit out, and she eyed the dog back and spoke to him without sound. He wagged his tail and stuck his tongue out, sorta smiled. His teeth were pearl white.

[Thompson]

The woman reached over and patted the big ol’ Pitt bull on the head. Good God, she thought, he sure is big. Is he related to the dead guy with the marker, she asked herself without sound?

[Thompson]

She walked around the block, and because of her inbred mother nature she decided to have a look see. She talked a bit with the big ol’ Pitt bull without sound and opened the gate. The door was open. Well, it was closed but wasn’t locked so she pushed the door open. Oh My God, she said without sound, and started crying. She made a lot of noise crying.

What’s with that crying, said a voice coming from the back?

Are you Thompson, said the woman?

No, Thompson is dead. That’s his marker out front. What are you doing in here?

Crying.

Okay, but why?

I don’t know. Do you know why you start crying?

I guess not. Would you like a frozen Charleston Chew?

Oh, you’re the robot guy.

People call me Ro, what’s your name?

Myrna.