“We’ll down him after I’m elected.”
“To Un Alcalde Peor,” Thomas Hudson said.
“To All of Us. To the party,” the Alcalde Peor said. He raised his glass.
“We must remember the circumstances of the founding of the party and write out the manifesto. What’s the date anyway?”
“The twentieth. More or less.”
“The twentieth of what?”
“The twentieth more or less of February. El grito de La Floridita.”
“It’s a solemn moment,” Thomas Hudson said. “Can you write, Honest Lil? Can you perpetuate all this?”
“I can write. But I can’t write right now.”
“There are a few more problems we have to take a stand on,” the Alcalde Peor said. “Listen, Colossus of the North, why don’t you buy this round? You’ve seen how valiant my credit is and how he stands up to the attack. But there’s no need to kill the poor bird when we know he’s losing. Come on, Colossus.”
“Don’t call me Colossus. We’re against the damn Colossus.”
“All right, governor. What do you do, anyway?”
“I’m a scientist.”
“Sobre todo en la cama,” Honest Lil said. “He made extensive studies in China.”
“Well, whatever you are, buy this one,” the Alcalde Peor said. “And let’s get on with the platform.”
“What about the Home?”
“A sacred subject. The Home enjoys equal dignity with religion. We must be careful and subtle. What about this: Abajo los padres de familias?”
“It has dignity. But why not just: Down with the Home?”
“Abajo el Home. It’s a beautiful sentiment but many might confuse it with béisbol.”
“What about Little Children?”
“Suffer them to come unto me once they are of electoral age,” said the Alcalde Peor.
“What about divorce?” Thomas Hudson asked.
“Another touchy problem,” the Alcalde Peor said. “Bastante espinoso. How do you feel about divorce?”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t take up divorce. It conflicts with our campaign in favor of the Home.”
“All right, let’s drop it. Now let me see—”
“You can’t,” Honest Lil said. “You’re cockeyed.”
“Don’t criticize me, woman,” the Alcalde Peor told her. “One thing we must do.”
“What?”
“Orinar.”
“I agree,” Thomas Hudson heard himself saying. “It is basic.”
“As basic as the lack of the aqueduct. It is founded on water.”
“It’s founded on alcohol.”
“Only a small percentage in comparison with the water. Water is the basic thing. You are a scientist. What percentage of water are we composed of?”
“Eighty-seven and three-tenths,” said Thomas Hudson, taking a chance and knowing he was wrong.
“Exactly,” said the Alcalde Peor, “Should we go while we can still move?”
In the men’s room a calm and noble Negro was reading a Rosicrucian pamphlet. He was working on the weekly lesson of the course he was taking. Thomas Hudson greeted him with dignity and his greeting was returned in kind.
“Quite a chilly day, sir,” the attendant with the religious literature observed.
“It is indeed chilly,” Thomas Hudson said. “How are your studies progressing?”
“Very well, sir. As well as can be expected.”
“I’m delighted,” Thomas Hudson said. Then to the Alcalde Peor, who was having certain difficulties, “I belonged to a club in London once where half the members were trying to urinate and the other half were trying to stop.”
“Very good,” said the Alcalde Peor, completing his chore, “What did they call it, El Club Mundial?”
“No. As a matter of fact, I’ve forgotten the name of it.”
“You’ve forgotten the name of your club?”
“Yes. Why not?”
“I think we better go get another one. How much does this urination cost?”
“Whatever you wish, sir.”
“Let me get them,” Thomas Hudson said. “I love to buy them. It’s like flowers.”
“Could it have been the Royal Automobile Club?” the Negro asked, standing proffering a towel.
“It could not have been.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the student of Rusicrucian said. “I know that’s one of the biggest clubs in London.”
“That’s right,” Thomas Hudson said. “One of the biggest. Now buy yourself something very handsome with this.” He gave him a dollar.
“Why did you give him a peso?” the Alcalde Peor asked him as they were outside the door and back to the noise of the bar, the restaurant, and the traffic on the street outside.