excerpt from AD via gaddis-l

[rich]

reads like a silly gay western skit
I likey
shades/parody of william burroughs

rich
On 8/3/06, Erik T. Burns <eburns at gmail.com> wrote:
>
> according to steven moore over at the gaddis list, this is an excerpt
> from _Against the Day_...
>
> The new Penguin Press catalog has an excerpt from Pynchon's "Against
> the Day," which I thought I'd transcribe for you:
>
> Back in 1899, not long after the terrible cyclone that year which
> devastated the town, Young Willis Turnstone, freshly credentialed from
> the American School of Osteopathy, had set out westward from
> Kirksville, Missouri, with a small grip holding a change of personal
> linen, an extra shirt, a note of encouragement from Dr. A. T. Still,
> and an antiquated Colt in whose use he was far from practiced,
> arriving at length in Colorado, where one day riding across the
> Uncompahgre plateau he was set upon by a small band of pistoleros.
> "Hold it right there, Miss, let's have a look at what's in that
> attractive valise o'yours."
> "Not much," said Willis.
> "Hey, what's this? Packing some iron here! Well, well, never let it be
> said Jimmy Drop and his gang denied a tender soul a fair shake now,
> little lady, you just grab ahold of your great big pistol and we'll
> get to it, shall we." The others had cleared a space which Willis and
> Jimmy now found themselves alone at either end of, in classic
> throwdown posture. "Go on ahead, don't be shy, I'll give you ten
> seconds gratis, 'fore I draw. Promise." Too dazed to share entirely
> the gang's spirit of innocent fun, Willis slowly and inexpertly raised
> his revolver, trying to aim it as straight as a shaking pair of hands
> would allow. After a fair count of ten, true to his word and fast as a
> snake, Jimmy went for his own weapon, had it halfway up to working
> level before abruptly coming to a dead stop, frozen into an ungainly
> crouch. "Oh, pshaw!" the badman screamed, or words to that effect.
> "Ay! Jefe, jefe," cried his lieutenant Alfonsito, "tell us it ain'
> your back again."
> "Damned idiot, o' course it's my back. Oh mother of all
> misfortune--and worst than last time too."
> "I can fix that," offered Willis.
> "Beg your pardon, what in hell business of any got-damn pinkinroller'd
> this be, again?"
> "I know how to loosen that up for you. Trust me, I'm an osteopath."
> "It's O.K., we're open-minded, couple boys in the outfit are
> evangelicals, just watch where you're putting them lilywhites
> now--yaaagghh--I mean, huh?"
> "Feel better?"
> "Holy Toledo," straightening up, carefully but pain-free.
> "Why, it's a miracle."
> "Gracias a Dios!" screamed the dutiful Alfonsito.
> "Obliged," Jimmy guessed, sliding his pistol back in its holster.
>
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