Gods and Monsters Page #5

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- You will not hurt him? - I'm gonna sit in

a chair, and he's gonna draw my picture.

Is that gonna hurt him?

No.

I'm sorry.

Forget everything I said.

I will take the tray.

Yeah, you do that.

Ah, Mr. Boone.

Come into my parlor.

Ah, Hanna.

Good.

Thank you.

And, Hanna, good-bye.

Now, I'm sure you'd like to wet

your whistle while I work. Hmm?

Oh.

Beer.

And we'll take it, uh,

slowly today...

because this is your

first time modeling.

- Oh, hey, did you see this?

- Hmm?

- They're showing one of your movies

tomorrow night. - You don't say.

- Which picture?

- Uh, Bride of Frankenstein.

Ah.

Mmm.

No, I much prefer

The Invisible Man or Showboat.

Right.

Now, shall we begin?

Yeah. I'm, uh...

I'm ready when you are.

- Oh, that shirt, Mr. Boone.

- Hmm?

Oh, it's new.

Yes, I, I am sorry. It's just too white.

It's too distracting.

Would it be asking you

too much to take it off?

Well, I'm not wearing

an undershirt today.

Oh, pish posh.

I'm not your Aunt Tillie.

You did say that you just

wanted to draw my face, right?

Oh, well, if it's going to make

you feel uncomfortable,

perhaps we can find

something else for you to wear.

Now, um...

Yes, we could drape this

across your shoulders like a toga.

Would that help you overcome

your schoolgirl shyness?

All right, all right.

I'll take the shirt off.

Kinda warm in here anyway.

Oh, yes.

That's better.

Now...

And if you'd like to sit

slightly sideways... to me.

That's right. And then just put

your arm on the box there.

Just so.

Why don't you take a picture?

It'll last longer.

That's exactly

what I'm going to do.

Yeah.

Mm-hmm.

It's just like

being at the doctor.

You have to remain perfectly still

while I examine and scrutinize you.

Dripping.

Huh?

Do you ever eat dripping

in this country?

The fats from roast

and such...

kept congealed in a jar...

and then used like butter

on bread and toast.

Sounds like something

you'd feed the dog.

Yes, it is. Only the poorest

families ever et it.

We used to keep ours

in a large, blue crockery jar.

Your family ate,

uh, dripping?

Oh, of course not.

No, no.

As I said,

only the poorest families.

Oh, God, it's ironic.

What is?

I've spent much of my life

outrunning the past,

and now it floods

all over me.

There's something about

the openness of your face

that makes me want

to tell the truth.

Yes, our family

ate dripping.

Beef dripping.

And four to a bed.

And a privy out

back in the alley.

Are you also from the slums,

Mr. Boone?

Well, we weren't rich,

but we weren't poor either.

No, well, you were

middle-class, hmm?

Like all Americans, hmm?

Well, I don't know. I guess you could say

we lived on the wrong side of the tracks.

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