Page 152 - What They Did to the Kid

140 Jack Fritscher

khakis had ridden up, cut the cheese at us, then rotated his shoul-
ders, spreading them, arching his elbows slightly from the sides. He
stepped and turned. Like a strong man in the circus, he faced us,
squatted behind a weight, gripped it, and began a lift. Showing off,
he inhaled.
“Sniff that cheese,” I said. “Sou-ee!”
Hank the Tank stood up straight with the iron weight at his
huge thighs, curled it to his chest. He face reddened with the exer-
tion and a vein knotted down his forehead.
As he pressed the bar with all his force above his head, Mike said,
“Down in Ski’s garden we burned up your couch.”
“You freaks!” He exploded. He dropped the weight to his knees,
threw it rolling across the cement floor. “You damn freaks.” He
moved toward Mike. “Get out!” His voice careened up in pitch. “Get
the hell out of here before I rip your balls off. Aaaaaaah!”
“You’re screaming soprano,” I said.
“I’ll ruin you,” Hank yelled. “I’ll get you three shipped out.”
“Tough toenails,” I said.
We retreated to the hallway. Hank slammed the gym door. He
was cursing and shoving chairs around.
“He was so mad his voice squeaked,” Lock said.
We looked at each other, blackened by the smoke, and suddenly
found the leg inspec tion and the fire and the weight-lifting tenor
hilarious.
“What a day,” I said.
“We sure snapped his jock.” Mike was swept up into our horse-
play, happy, as if he never had a problem with his vocation during
the summer.
“Come on, Lock,” I said. “Toss me back my sweat shirt.”
The gym door opened. Light silhouetted Hank the Tank, who
screamed in his enraged soprano: “The glee club! The choir! The
chanters! You three will never sing in this seminary again. I’ll see
to it.”
“You?” I said. “You and what army?”

September 26, 1960

The Kennedy-Nixon Debate

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