Tossing Around The Finnegan

Kushman. What are you taking this semester. He asks. I Swivel my shoulders in the chair so as to face Joe who is sitting at one of the dinning tables, pouring over Calculus II. Will you toss me Finnegans Wake, Joe, I say. Which one's that, Joe says. The thickest one, I say. Joe picks it up, rolls his wrist, looks at the perfect pages, Oh the crackless spines! I don't think you want me throwing you such a nice book James, he says. Joe rises. Walks around the table, to my chair, hands me Finnegan which I immediately toss to Adam across the living room.

Open to any page and try to read this, I tell him.

Adam does this. He opens to John Bishop's introduction. Page vii. He reads aloud. Too well. No, I tell him. Any page, not the first page, I say vehemently. Adam's fingers flip to page 286. His voice sounded nothing like this:

So, bagdad, after those initials falls and that primary taincture, as I know and you konw yourself, beath, and the arab in the ghetto knows better, by nettus, nor anymeade or persan, comic cuts and series exerxeses always were to be capered in Casey's frost book of, page torn on dirty, to be hacked at Hickey's no fuck you. you come here right now. I'm not illiterate, He says to the laughter of everyone in the room. Only it sounds like NO Fuck You! You come here right now! I'm not ILLITERATE! hands waving laughee's to approach.

Let me see it, says Page. Page opens to page 313.

Sets on sayfohrt! Go to it, agitator! they bassabosuned over the flowre of their hoose. Godeown moseys and skeep thy beeble bee. I'm done, Page says.

Landon walks into the entrance to the living room, body limp, hands hanging from the pull up bar in the doorway. Try and read this, Page says. Oh I Know, I heard from my room, Landon says, you sound like a bunch of idiots. Page tosses Finnegan, pages flutter, the pull up bar now vacant, landing in Landon's hands. He is the only one to open the book and not read aloud a single word. Landon is a genius. He also is the gentlemen that fell off the rafters onto his face during a Cats game. Genius seems relative.

Door slams. Cold air gusts in. Colt storms in, badge still on his shirt. I hate that job already, He says, looking at no one, talking to everyone and himself. This'll cheer you up, someone says, read it out loud.

Man with nightcap, in bed, fore. Woman, with curlpins, hind. Discovered. Side point of view. First position of harmony. say! Eh? Ha! Check Action. Matt. Male Partly masking female. Top notch stuff you literature majors due, he says, really good stuff. Waving the book. Really, good stuff, he says again, I'm going to go, but you keep up the good work. His head shaking up and down, eyes glinting, chin raised, completely lost. Fin.