Neither Addison or Milford were used to not walking slowly, Addison because he was constitutionally languid and lazy, and Milford because as much as he never liked being where he was, he was never in a hurry to go someplace else. And yet, taking quick puffs from their cigarettes and coughing as they went, they did their best to keep up with Diamond Jim, who stomped forth holding his cane upright as if it were a sword and he was storming into battle, all the while still smoking his cigarette in its holder and trailing a stream of smoke behind him.
After a couple of minutes the big man stopped and turned, about thirty paces ahead of them.
"Am I going too fast for you, lads?"
"Well, just a little perhaps," panted Addison.
Milford said nothing, merely gasping and coughing in response.
"Well, come on then and catch up," said Diamond Jim, and he waited, smoking, until the two friends staggered abreast of him.
He looked at them, smiling, and shaking his head.
"My goodness, as old as I am, and as stout as I am, I daresay I could still beat the pair of you in a walking race!"
"I have no doubt," said Addison, squeezing the words out between labored breaths.
"When I was young like you fellows I thought nothing of tramping from the Battery to Harlem and back again of an evening, not forgetting to stop into various and sundry taverns and saloons along the way for a refreshing pitcher of steam beer and a sampling of the
spécialités des maisons,
be it a hot roast beef sandwich or two with lashings of gravy and a side basket of crispy fried potatoes, or perhaps a few frankfurters liberally blanketed with sauerkraut, or, say, a brace of croque-monsieurs, oozing with fragrant melted Gruyère and béchamel – but fear not, if my calculations are correct, we should reach the Hideaway any minute now."
"Oh, thank God," said Addison.
"And what about you, young Gilbert," said Diamond Jim to Milford. "Do you not thank God that your wanderings are almost at an end."
"If I believed in God," said Milford, breathing laboriously, "I would thank him, possibly."
"Only possibly?" said Diamond Jim, with a straight face.
"Yes," said Milford, "because after all it was he who put me in this state of existence in the first place, when I never asked for it."
Diamond Jim smiled again.
"I like you, Philbert," he said. "And you too, Pattison," he said, addressing Addison. You chaps may not be – how shall I put it – you may not be the most vibrant fellows, and yet, in your own particular ways, you are your own men.
A rare quality, and I think we shall be good friends. And, now that we've rested a bit, do you think you are ready to resume our perambulations?"
"Yes, I think so," said Addison.
"Milforth?" said Jim to Milford.
"Yes, I'm ready," said Milford.
"Onward then," said Diamond Jim. "And I shall attempt to keep to a moderate stride."
"Thank you, Jim," said Addison.
"Yes, thank you, Jim," also said Milford, who, despite his distaste for life, still harbored a deep-seated fear of suffering a massive or even minor heart attack.
"Hey, it's them!" echoed a voice ahead of them down the dim corridor.
And there perhaps a fifty yards away, turning a corner, surged a group of a dozen or so men.
"Now we've got them!" yelled another voice.
"They got Diamond Jim with them!" yelled yet another voice.
"Fuck them and fuck Diamond Jim too!" yelled a fourth voice.
"Now what the hell do we have here?" said Diamond Jim.
"Jim," said Milford, "we have to run."
"Yes," said Addison. "I think we should beat a hasty retreat."
"Nonsense," said Diamond Jim. "I have never retreated in my life, and I'm not about to start now."
"But there's too many of them," whined Milford.
"I'll be the judge of that," said Diamond Jim, as the gang of men approached, carrying baseball bats, nightsticks and blackjacks, and even bicycle chains. "What's their beef, anyway?"
"They're from this place called the D.B. Club," said Addison.
"The douchebag bar?" said Jim.
"Yes," said Addison. "We went in there just to ask directions, but they wanted us to join their club, and then when we said we didn't want to join they wouldn't let us leave."
"So how'd you get out of there?"
"Addison threw his cigarette in the head douchebag's eye," said Milford, "and in the ensuing confusion I grabbed the door key and unlocked the door and we escaped."
"And they've been after you ever since, hey?"
"Yes," said Milford. "So we'd really better run."
"The hell with that," said Diamond Jim, and he raised his cane and brandished it at the approaching men.
"You there!" he shouted. "You douchebags! Stop right there!"
Amazingly, the gang stopped,
maybe twenty yards away. At their center was the big corpulent man with the cigar, the one called Big Daddy, carrying what looked like a shillelagh, and to his right was the corpselike man named Cerberus, the one with a face the color of an old potato sack, and who wielded a large monkey wrench.
"This ain't your concern, Diamond Jim," bellowed Big Daddy, whose right eye was swollen shut. "Now step aside!"
"Yeah, step aside, Diamond Jim," said Cerberus. "We got no grudge with you."
"Fuck you don't," said Diamond Jim.
"What do you mean?" yelled Big Daddy.
"You heard me, Big Daddy," said Diamond Jim. "Fuck you don't, and I'll say it again, fuck you don't and fuck you and your douchebag pursuivants."
"Now, Jim," said Big Daddy, "you ain't got to be like that."
"Yeah," said Cerberus. "You ain't got to be like that, Diamond Jim."
"Look what they done to my eye," said Big Daddy, pointing to his swollen eye with a fat finger, the only kind of finger he had.
"If I know you, Big Daddy," said Diamond Jim, "you were asking for that swole-up eye, and more."
"Hey, wait a minute," said Cerberus, "Big Daddy didn't ask for the swole-up eye, no sir!"
"That's right," said Big Daddy, "I most certainly did not!"
Diamond Jim pointed the engraved steel ferrule of his cane at Big Daddy.
"Did you or did you not refuse to let my friends leave your establishment?"
"Well, technically, yes," said Big Daddy, "but you see, Diamond Jim, they are obviously douchebags, just like us, but they was acting like they was too good to be members of the Douchebag Club!"
"And they ain't too good!" said Cerberus. "They's douchebags just like us, maybe even worst than us!"
"Douchebags, my dear Cerberus," said Diamond Jim, "they well may be, and God love them. However, douchebags or not, they are my friends.
So fuck off, you walking cadaver, and you too, Big Daddy, you blustering tub of lard, or I shall set to thrashing you and your toadies with this very sturdy blackthorn stick," he raised his cane in a menacing manner, "both one and all and severally, but first you, Big Daddy, then you, Cerberus, and finally all your other cowering epigones."
"Once again, Diamond Jim, sir," said Big Daddy, "our fight is not with you. And anyways we promise just to rough those two d-bags up a little."
"Yeah, just rough 'em up a little," said Cerberus.
"You will do no such thing," said Diamond Jim. "And you'll have to get past me to even try to do it. Now who wants to try it first? Take a step forward if you dare."
None of the gang took a step forward.
"Come on, you pack of jackals," said Diamond Jim, raising his cane higher, and stepping forward himself. "Step forward I say!"
"Look, Diamond Jim –" said Big Daddy.
"You look, you fat fuck," said Diamond Jim, "you and your little mob got approximately one second to turn around and go back to that stinking hole you crawled out of, or you'll see what's coming to you, and it's gonna be a hell of a lot worse than a swole-up eye."
"Ah, the hell with this," said Big Daddy, after less than one second's pause. "It ain't worth it. We was just having a little fun. Or trying to. Come on, boys, let's go back to the club. I'm thirsty."
"Yeah, let's go back to the club," said Cerberus. "I'm thirsty, too."
"Yeah, we're all thirsty," said another guy,
"I'm thirsty as hell," said a fourth guy.
And as one the gang turned around the way they had come, quickly, and silently, tumbled past the far corner, and then they were gone.
"And that," said Diamond Jim, lowering his cane, "is how you deal with douchebags like that."
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