Unlocking the safety, she pumped six rounds of fiery lead into his body.

He died with the smirk still on his face.

At the eulogy, Dana spoke of his extraordinary valor. How he had saved her from a sick and deranged man with evil on his mind. Through molten gunshots and powder-choked air, in a moment's flash of unthinking selflessness, he had risked his life to save hers. Managing to squeeze off enough rounds to end her attacker's life before succ.u.mbing to his own mortal wounds. And because of his superhuman act, her life was spared while his own life had ended. His years . . . cut short . . . in his prime . . . just because of one man's treacherous deeds.

The funeral was crowded. His mother cried bitterly. His sisters wept and wept. It seemed that all the neighbors had come out to pay their last respects. Everyone attending the ceremony knew his history. Yet they were all more than a little puzzled by Dana's flowery words, her effusive commendations and praises.

And so it came to pa.s.s that Eugene Hart, a twenty-two-year-old felon with a long and notorious history of brutal violence and rape, was put to rest with a hero's burial.

MUMMY.

and JACK.

with Jesse Kellerman.

"Mummy and Jack"-an acid fable

centered on a peculiar mother and

son-is the product of my first collaboration with my son, Jesse. A

novelist as well as a playwright, Jesse

has infused the story with his own

unique brand of dark humor, a trait

shared by his father and mother. This just goes to show that a twisted mind can be a genetic endowment.

WHEN I WAS SMALL, MUMMY WOULD SAY, IF ye're a good boy, then I will tell ye a bedtime story. But now she cannot because she is too sick. The time has come now that I must take care of her and not the other way around. I must do things for Mummy. I must get Mummy her medicine and buy her spirits. I must bring Mummy her supper every night. Yet she is not yet so sick and old that she cannot tell me what to do. She has her opinions.

Lately, this has become more of a problem because I want (and she wants me to also, I think) to court a la.s.s or two, and I must bring the la.s.s home to have a proper introduction. Sometimes Mummy makes this very difficult. Her opinions. They are very strong opinions. I am, however, a proper-raised gentleman, and I have been educated in the way that makes me respect Mummy even if her opinions are extremely particular and particularly strong. I always do my best to make her happy.

Sometimes I do wish for a bedtime story, though.

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to go out for a stroll at night. I groomed my mustache. Mummy likes my mustache, and she tells me that I look very right and handsome. I like it when I please her. I straightened my freshly starched waistcoat, then I took my cane, my cloak, and some other things. I did not think it was late in the evening, but Mummy heard me opening the door.

Jack! she called to me.

Yes, Mummy? I said like a good boy says.

Jack, where are y'goin'?

I am goin' for a walk, I said.

It's too late in the night, Jack, she said.

It's not so late, Mummy. I thought of mebbe gettin' a bit of air . . .

Don't go, Jack! she said. She was almost screaming at me from the other room, and her voice was like a very sharp knife. Don't leave me here, Jackie!

Her voice made me hurt quite bad. I thought that maybe she was going to die if I left her alone. All of a sudden I got frightened. So I went to her room to make sure that she was well. When I peeked my head through the door, I could see that she was surrounded by a big pile of pillows (pillows I bought with money that I had earned for her) looking like a fat white man hugging her tight. She was sitting up in bed and maybe even crying a little. It hurts me when she cries with her voice so little and full of pain. Especially because she looks so weak, with her thin bones and white hair.

Please don't go, Jack! she begged.

I will come back soon, Mummy, I said. I am goin' to bring some spirits. I'll bring y' back a pint. (I knew that Mummy likes an occasional pint and she would be happy if I offered to bring her one.) Oh, would ye, Jack? That would be so nice . . . so nice.

I will come back soon and bring ye a pint, Mummy, I promised.

Oh, but not a pint. Bring us some red wine, Jack, she said. Port, if you will, Jackie. That makes me bones very warm.

Right, then, Mummy, I answered. Some old red port.

Thankee, Jackie, said she, gratefully.

I left the house and walked around for a bit. After some time, I was very far from where we lived. I was not certain where I was, although I thought I might be in Whitechapel. I wanted to hear my mummy's voice telling me a bedtime story, and feel her giving me wet kisses on my forehead. There was a big clock striking the late hour, and I thought that I would get Mummy her wine and maybe a pint for myself. (Because it was a very soggy night and I wanted to warm my bones.) Afterward, I would go home and go to bed.

Instead, I came upon a la.s.s out walking. She was very short and stout, and she had an ugly smile, but she looked like she wanted to be my friend. I thought that because she walked up to me and said, Allo, sir, how are ye?

I said, I'm fine, thankee. Why are you here so late at night?

She began to laugh, like a horse throwing its head back and sniffing the air. I could see tiny blue lines in her fat neck where her blood was. It was not a pretty neck, although I have seen pretty necks: long, stretchy white necks, like swans gliding in the lake in the park. I touched the stiff edge of my collar and waited for her to talk again. Her face was dirty, and the sleeve of her dress was ragged, like it had been chewed.

I know ye want to buy me a nip o' gin, sir, she said. Will ye buy me a nip?

Since I had to go get some wine for Mummy, and the la.s.s seemed nice enough, I told her I could buy her a nip.

Oh, you're a good boy! said the la.s.s.

(Of course, I know I am a good boy, because Mummy tells me that all the time. I try very hard to be a good boy for her.) What's your name, sir? she asked.

Jack, I said.

You're a good boy, Jack, said the la.s.s. My name is Annie.

It is an honor to meet you, Annie, I said. La.s.ses like that, when I talk courtly. Annie liked it, and she laughed again.

Come on, then, she said. Let's get us a drop!

I went with Annie to a pub and bought Mummy's port. Annie wanted a gin, and so I bought her a nip. She was thirsty, and she took the whole gla.s.s at once. I thought her gulping a bit common and lower-cla.s.s, but when she asked me for another, I bought it for her. Then she asked for a third.

I've not got any more money, Annie, I said.

Oh, my! she said. Well, then, I shall have to find another man to buy me a nip. Because it is a cold, damp night.

No, Annie, I said. Don't go. (Because I was starting to fancy her.) Well, sir, I don't want to go because ye have been so nice to me. But I am very thirsty. Then she laughed again.

I thought that Mummy would be very thirsty by this time, so I decided that I should go home. But I still fancied Annie.

I said, Annie, can I ask ye to supper? I can give you a bit of gin that I've got back at home.

Annie smiled at me with a big brown rotted smile. It's too late for supper, but I can give ye a bite if you want, sir.

No, thankee, I said for I was not hungry. Why don't ye come for supper on Friday, then?

Oh, sir, said Annie, that would be quite nice.

I shall come to get ye, Annie.

Thankee, luv, she said. Come to get me here.

Cheers, I said, then left and headed toward home. The whole walk home, I tripped over rats running beneath me in the fog. The misty air was like a big fish swallowing the street. I wanted to be home and to hear a bedtime story before I went to sleep. But when I did get home, Mummy was asleep. I put the wine in the cupboard and went to bed with no bedtime story (which made me feel quite lonely).

The next morning I told Mummy that I had invited a guest for supper for next week.

Who's that? she asked.

A la.s.s, said I.

Jack! Why are ye bringing la.s.sies home? she scolded me.

She wanted to meet ye, Mummy.

It's not proper to bring la.s.sies home! she yelled. Not proper at all!

Then I remembered the port and brought it from the cupboard. While I poured her drink, I said, She is nice, Mummy.

Mummy drank a bit. Then she drank a wee bit more and smiled. She said to me, Well, I must meet her if ye think she is nice, my Jackie.

She is nice, Mummy, I said.

She had another nip and said, Mummy can tell ye if she is a proper la.s.s or not.

I said that was why I wanted Mummy to meet her.

Good boy, that y'think of your mummy. You were raised a proper gentleman, my Jack.

I was very happy when she said this. There are times that Mummy makes me very happy. Even if she has her sharp opinions.

The following week I walked out again and found the pub where Annie was supposed to be. She was not there, and I waited for her. The barman tried to give me drinks, but I did not want to drink anything.

Get out if you're not goin' to be buying somethin'! he yelled. You're in a pub, you fool.

I am waiting for a la.s.s, I answered.

Who, then, are ye waitin' for? he asked me.

Annie, said I.

What Annie? said the man.

Jest Annie is her name.

Ye can wait outside, then, said the man.

I waited outside near the door. Annie came, but she was late. She almost did not see me. She almost walked through the door without saying h.e.l.lo. But I took her on the elbow, and that got her to turn around.

Allo, Annie, I said.

Allo, mate, she said. Buy me a slug, will ye?

I looked at her, and she stared back as if she did not know my face.

Ye are coming for supper, then? I asked.

Supper? Why would I come with ye to supper? she asked.

I thought she was playing a game. Annie, ye said ye'd come the night to supper with me, I explained.

Buy me a nip o' gin, and I'll come to supper with ye, she said.

All right, then, Annie. I'll buy you a nip.