Shambling Towards Hiroshima by James Morrow

Author:James Morrow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

IV

MIDNIGHT HAS COME to Edgar Allan Poe’s city. Luckily, I remembered to place an order with room service just before the kitchen shut down for the day. The present writing session will be fueled by a Waldorf salad, two Reuben sandwiches, and more potato chips than a giant mutant iguana has scales—plus my trusty jar of Maxwell House instant and its auxiliary submersible coil.

As the hotel steward wheeled the food into my room, I realized to my considerable chagrin that, having given all my folding money to Tiffany, I had no cash with which to reward his labors.

“You must be with that sci-fi convention, huh?” he asked, pointing to my Raydo. He was a freckled, klutzy kid whose large ears stuck out like radar scoops. “Did you buy that sculpture in the dealer’s room?”

“Actually, I won it.”

Curious now, the steward approached my desk, brushed the statuette with his greasy fingers, and pondered the inscription. “‘Lifetime Achievement’—that’s terrific, Mr. Thorley,” he said, nervously clucking his tongue. “Not everybody manages to have an achievement in his lifetime.”

“You learn your craft, you play your mummies, you collect your trophy, and then you die.”

“I’m not really a sci-fi fan, but I know all about that big balloon you put on the roof. Gorgantis, King of the Lizards. Mr. Hackett isn’t too happy about it. He says the darned thing should’ve come down this afternoon.”

“I didn’t put it there. Your boss should talk to the Wonderama Committee, if they haven’t skipped town.”

“And this is a rhedosaurus,” the kid said, indicating the pewter dinosaur. “My grandfather loved that movie. He used to call me Ray the Rhedosaurus.”

“This award happens to be nicknamed the Raydo. Ray Bradbury wrote the original story. Ray Harryhausen did the special effects.”

“All those Rays? Really?”

“Ray Bolger did the choreography. Ray Walston played the Martian. Bob and Ray were the caterers.”

“I’m Ray Wintergreen. Grampa and I watched The Beast from 20,000 Leagues together a month before he died.”

“Fathoms, actually. Leagues is distance. Ray, my friend, I’d love to tip you, but I forfeited my last dollar to a lady of the night. Let me accompany you back downstairs, and I’ll cash a check at the desk.”

“That won’t work. They locked the safe at eleven.”

“Here’s an idea. Instead of a gratuity, I’ll give you my dinosaur.”

“Oh, no, sir, that wouldn’t be right.”

“Please, Ray, I want you to have it,” I said, shuffling toward my embarrassed visitor. “In honor of your grandfather.”

“He was a wonderful guy, but I can’t take your award.”

“Of course you can.” I curled my fist around the lighthouse, lifted the prize from my desk, and inserted it in Ray’s grasp. “The inscription contains a typo. If I brought the damn thing home, I’d just stick it in my broom closet.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“This is very generous of you. Mom will be darned impressed.”

Fearful that his good fortune might evaporate if he lingered, Ray hugged the statuette to his chest and made a hasty exit. And so it came to pass that, like the dying dragon in Joy’s story about Momoko, I surrendered my treasure to the next generation.

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