Two dollars, please: Difference between revisions

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“Well, then, I’m glad to hear that. But I do wish you would go to another alienist, or psychiatrist, or whatever they call themselves.” Another pause. “You can pull yourself together, you know. Play the man, Robert. Play the man.”
“Well, then, I’m glad to hear that. But I do wish you would go to another alienist, or psychiatrist, or whatever they call themselves.” Another pause. “You can pull yourself together, you know. Play the man, Robert. Play the man.”


Old Drake was satisfied. He had talked turkey to the boy; he had performed his fatherly duty. Besides, the private detectives assured him that the Red Business really was trivial: The lad had been to several anarchist and Communist meetings, but his comments had been uniformly aloof and cynical.
Old Drake was satisfied. He had talked turkey to the boy; he had performed his fatherly duty. Besides, the private detectives assured him that the Red business really was trivial: The lad had been to several anarchist and Communist meetings, but his comments had been uniformly aloof and cynical.


It was nearly a year later when the really bad news from the private investigators arrived.
It was nearly a year later when the really bad news from the private investigators arrived.
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“Listen,” Drake said with sudden emotion. “We’re both lying. It’s not all this philosophical or cosmic. The simple fact is that I couldn’t sleep nights, and nothing I tried in conventional ‘cures’ could help me, until I began to help myself by systematically rebelling against everything that seemed stronger than me.”
“Listen,” Drake said with sudden emotion. “We’re both lying. It’s not all this philosophical or cosmic. The simple fact is that I couldn’t sleep nights, and nothing I tried in conventional ‘cures’ could help me, until I began to help myself by systematically rebelling against everything that seemed stronger than me.”


“I know. I didn’t know it was insomnia. It might have been nightmares or dizzy spells or sexual impotence. But there was some way that the scenes you saw in Chateau-Thierry lived on and goaded you to wake out of the dream of the sleepwalkers on the streets. You are waking: You stand on the abyss.” She pointed to the Fool and the dog who barks at his heels. “And I am the noisy little bitch barking to warn you that you can still choose the right-hand path. The decision is not final until you cross the abyss.”
“I know. I didn’t know it was insomnia. It might have been nightmares or dizzy spells or sexual impotence. But there was some way that the scenes you saw in Château-Thierry lived on and goaded you to wake out of the dream of the sleepwalkers on the streets. You are waking: You stand on the abyss.” She pointed to the Fool and the dog who barks at his heels. “And I am the noisy little bitch barking to warn you that you can still choose the right-hand path. The decision is not final until you cross the abyss.”


“But the cards show that I really have very little choice. Especially in the world that is going to emerge from this depression.”
“But the cards show that I really have very little choice. Especially in the world that is going to emerge from this depression.”


Mama Sutra smiled without forgiveness or final condemnation. “This is no age for saints,” she agreed softly. “Two dollars please.”
Mama Sutra smiled without forgiveness or final condemnation. “This is no age for saints,” she agreed softly. “Two dollars please.”