Читать книгу John Henry Days - Colson Whitehead - Страница 14
ОглавлениеNo one, it seems, wants to go to West Virginia. West Virginia contains many natural wonders. The New River Gorge is spectacular. A number of the bituminous coal concerns have informative tours and dioramas for the curious visitor. The historic stand at Harpers Ferry, to name another thing. And yet. Just last week at a bar on M Street in Washington, D.C., an inquisitive patron could have overheard this conversation between two postal employees:
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
Pittsburgh I wouldn’t mind. It’s a big city. I have a college roommate in Pittsburgh.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
I don’t know why they picked John Henry in the first place.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
You know. They got three white ones, you gotta mix it up these days. Nothing against John Henry. I just wish he was from somewhere else.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
Pecos Bill, Paul Bunyan—who’s the other guy?
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
Mighty Casey.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
(sipping lager)
“Casey at the Bat.” I don’t even know who Pecos Bill is.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
(gritting his teeth)
Nobody knows who the fuck Pecos Bill is. He wrestled a rattlesnake.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
You got Babe the Blue Ox in the Paul Bunyan one?
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
That’s exactly what I said. What’s Paul Bunyan without Babe the Blue Ox? But we just did an animal series a few months ago.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
(nodding ruefully)
To take care of the animal lovers. We don’t want to alienate that segment of stamp consumers. Not in Marvin Runyon’s Post Office. Whose idea was this anyway for a Folk Hero series?
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
Who do you think?
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
Yeah.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
(shaking his head)
And he wants some target marketing people to go along. You know his big thing now. I don’t know why it has to be me, but there you have it. I know the beds are going to kill me. I can feel that already. My back is fucking killing me already. It’s enough to make me go—
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
(looking over his shoulder)
Don’t say it!
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say, go nuts. I actually talked to the son of a bitch mayor of the town. We got a registered letter from the Chamber of Commerce. They sent a registered letter to the Post Office like it’s some kind of threat. The Post Office! They go, “Pittsburgh may be Steeltown U.S.A., but John Henry is Talcott’s native son.” So he gave in, canceled all the Pittsburgh plans that had already been planned out. Christ, this city is a fucking sewer in the summertime.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
It’ll be good for you to get out of the city. Get some good country air.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
Why does everyone keep saying that? Country air, country air, everywhere I go. Watch me get a call from some guy in Minnesota saying we got to do the same thing there for Paul Bunyan. “An office of the United States Government can’t show unfair treatment blah blah.”
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
I have some “relations” as they say, in West Virginia.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
(rubbing a cigarette burn on the bar’s surface)
They’re trying to use the John Henry thing to make the town into a tourist trap. The stamp gave them the idea apparently. All sorts of big fun.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
Tractor pull. Hayride.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
They got Ben Vereen coming.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
(grinning)
Pulling out all the stops. Look at it this way—you get to hang out with the stamp collectors.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
That’s a pleasure.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
You can look forward to that.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
They always got those moist lips.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
They’re always licking their lips because they got all those stamps but they can’t lick ‘em.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
Turns my stomach.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
They always try to be your best friend.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
Like I’m going to give them free stamps.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
Like we got stamps in our pockets that we’re going to give them. Maybe the Weirdo is going.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #1:
If the Weirdo is there, fuck Runyon, I’m turning back.
POSTAL EMPLOYEE #2:
Shit yeah.
(gesturing)
Can we get another round?
