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of her mirror, liking what she
saw as she looked through eyes of many yesterdays at herself in the
gorgeous red dress and gold shoes she wore when her Harry was bar
mitzvahed . . . Seymour was alive then ... and not even sick . . .
and her boobala looked so nice in his—Ah, thats gone. No more.
Seymours dead and her—Ah, I'll show Ada how it looks. She held the
unzipped back of her dress tightly as she waited for a station break,
then went next door to her friend Ada. So wheres the party? Party,
schmarty. This is like all the parties. When I tell you youll jump
out the window. A basement window I hope. They sat down in the living
room, strategically, so each could keep an eye, and ear, tuned to the
television set while discussing the momentous occasion that brought
Sara Goldfarb forth in the gorgeous red dress and gold shoes she wore
the day her Harry, her boobala, was bar mitzvahed, an event so
important and undreamed of that Sara was in such a state of shock,
though ambulatory, she turned down a piece of halvah. Sara told Ada
about the phone call and how she was going on television. She, Sara
Goldfarb, was going on the television. Ada stared for a moment (with
one ear she caught the end of the scene of the soap opera). For real?
You wouldnt kid me? Why should I kid you? What am I dressing for, the
supermarket? Ada continued to stare (the music told her they were
fading out on the scene. She knew instinctively that a commercial was
coming on even before there was that sudden increase in volume and
explosion on the screen). You want a glass tea? She got up and 
started for the kitchen. Sara followed. The water was quickly boiled
and each had a glass of tea when they returned to the living room,
just at the end of the commercials, and sat in the same strategic
positions, their ear and eye still tuned to the television, as they
discussed and speculated on the enormity of the coming event in the
life of Sara Goldfarb, an event of such prodigious proportions and
importance that it infused her with a new will to live and
materialized a dream that brightened her days and soothed her lonely
nights.
 
    Harry and Tyrone C. were walking through the park,
spending most of their energy in trying to avoid the kids who were
running around screaming or flying by on skates or a skateboard,
never knowing from which end or side the attack might come. Sheeit, I
dont know why they got to have a summer vacation. They oughtta keep
those little muthas in school all the time. You kiddin? theyd tear
the school down. This way it saves the taxpayers money. Now aint this
a bitch, this muthafucka aint worked in his natural life an he
worried about taxpayers. Hey man, ya gotta worry about those things.
Whats the matta with you, aint ya responsible? Oooooo, listen to this
shit, this stud has gone and blew his cool. Comeon baby, lets get
somethin to eat, youse in serious trouble. They strolled over to a
hot dog pushcart and got a couple with onions and mustard and red
pepper, and a bottle of soda. When they finished they walked as far
as possible from the playground and stretched out on the grass. Ya
know man, I wasnt bullshit about gettin a piece. Hey baby, Im down.
Well, then lets stop fuckin around and get with it. Sheeit, get with
what? We aint got no braid. No shit? I thought we had money up the
gazoo. That the only place we got it. Well lets stop fuckin the duck
and figure out how we can pick up the bread. How much do we need?
    Ah dont know exactly. Couple hundred. Best be going
up there with four hundred that way you knows you got enough no
matter what comes down. Are you sure Brody can cop a piece for us?
Man, what the fuck you talkin about? Course Im sure. Even after he
take his tase we got enough to cut it in haf and double our braid and
have a nice tase for us. Im hip. He sure does have some dynamite
shit. But I dont want to get into it heavy man. I dont wanta blow the
whole thing by getting strung out. You damn right. You be cool an we
have