"Tell you about cockroaches,” said Clint with intense enthusiasm, leaning forward with a finger pointed. “Now! The place I live in has a lot of cockroaches, but I don’t have trouble with them, understand, I’m on the best terms with them. Tell you how I do this. Some years ago I sat down and thought about the whole matter: I said to myself, cockroaches are human too, just as much as us human beings. Reason for that is this: I’ve watched them long enought to realize their sense of discretion, their feelings, their emotions, their thoughts, see. But you laugh. You think I’m talking through my hat. You doubt my word. Wait! wait!”
The others were gigling uncontrollably, even Jack the hoodlum in a sort of idiotic, insolent way.
“Now!” went on Clint, leaning over towards them even more, stretching out his arms with fantastic emphasis and holding their attention that insane way. “Time came when I got sick and tired of finding cockroaches in my bread an jam on the kitchen table. I like cockroaches, but it was too much, you dig? I got a little string”- and with this Clint dug into his pocket and pulled out a piece of string and held it up to display-“little string like this. Every time I found a cockroach in my bread and jame, I’d give it a little flip of the string, you see, a little whipping on the back. Not hard!” he warned breathlessly. “Not hard! Just … a … little … flick … of my wrist, like this!” He demonstrated gently, over and over again, while th others watched.
“Now,” went on Clint, “time came when I not only had ‘em traned so they wouldn’t mess around my own bread and jam, but they were living in the pan under the table in peace and plenty, in a real orderly fashion, you dig? I used to lay down on the floor and talk to them and watch. Some of them lived in the pan, some of them were recluses and went and lived under the sink pipe. Others were just plain snooty, they had to live in the cracks way up on the wall. They has all kinds of domestic trouble, too. Some times a wife would desert her husband and run off with another character, sometimes two husbands would fight it out, sometimes one of them would run wild-a bandit, see?-and steal everything in sight, all the breadcrumbs and jam and carry it off, you dig? It was wild, I tell you, it was wild and weird. Well, here’s what happened. Time came”-here Clint took another drag on the cigarette with a joyous fury-“time came when the cockroaches from next door began to drift into my place, and naturally, not being trained, they were smelling around on top of my table. I thought I had a revolt on my hands and wasn’t being firm enough, not realizing that these here untrained cockroaches were causing all the trouble and I was beating up my own trained ones for the sins of others. The way I found out is, my cockroaches were sulking and resentful, you understand? When I’d talk to them they wouldn’t even look up. I could seee their feelings was hurt. I said to myself, what gives here? Aren’t they happy, ain’t I treating them right? It dawned on me about the cockroaches from next door. Well, there I was, trying to figure out what to do, when my cockraoches sort of all got together in the pan and held a meeting. I could smell trouble was brewing, you understand? I just sat there watching. First thing you know they all take a beeline for the hole in the bottom of the all leading to the next apartment and starting fighting the cockroaches from next door. It was a real knock-out drag-down fight like something you never seen, a regular campaign thing. It was wild, man, it was wild! Next day the cockroaches from next door stayed where they were put, my own cockraches settled down to a peaceful disciplined life, and it’s been that way ever since.
“They keep regular sentries posted at that hole,” he went on. “Nobody can come in. I cried for weeks realizing I was punishing my own cockroaches for the sins of others. I spent days laying on the floor tyring to explain to them that I didn’t know, that I couldn’t hav possibly dug what was realling going on- and they forgave me."
The others were gigling uncontrollably, even Jack the hoodlum in a sort of idiotic, insolent way.
“Now!” went on Clint, leaning over towards them even more, stretching out his arms with fantastic emphasis and holding their attention that insane way. “Time came when I got sick and tired of finding cockroaches in my bread an jam on the kitchen table. I like cockroaches, but it was too much, you dig? I got a little string”- and with this Clint dug into his pocket and pulled out a piece of string and held it up to display-“little string like this. Every time I found a cockroach in my bread and jame, I’d give it a little flip of the string, you see, a little whipping on the back. Not hard!” he warned breathlessly. “Not hard! Just … a … little … flick … of my wrist, like this!” He demonstrated gently, over and over again, while th others watched.
“Now,” went on Clint, “time came when I not only had ‘em traned so they wouldn’t mess around my own bread and jam, but they were living in the pan under the table in peace and plenty, in a real orderly fashion, you dig? I used to lay down on the floor and talk to them and watch. Some of them lived in the pan, some of them were recluses and went and lived under the sink pipe. Others were just plain snooty, they had to live in the cracks way up on the wall. They has all kinds of domestic trouble, too. Some times a wife would desert her husband and run off with another character, sometimes two husbands would fight it out, sometimes one of them would run wild-a bandit, see?-and steal everything in sight, all the breadcrumbs and jam and carry it off, you dig? It was wild, I tell you, it was wild and weird. Well, here’s what happened. Time came”-here Clint took another drag on the cigarette with a joyous fury-“time came when the cockroaches from next door began to drift into my place, and naturally, not being trained, they were smelling around on top of my table. I thought I had a revolt on my hands and wasn’t being firm enough, not realizing that these here untrained cockroaches were causing all the trouble and I was beating up my own trained ones for the sins of others. The way I found out is, my cockroaches were sulking and resentful, you understand? When I’d talk to them they wouldn’t even look up. I could seee their feelings was hurt. I said to myself, what gives here? Aren’t they happy, ain’t I treating them right? It dawned on me about the cockroaches from next door. Well, there I was, trying to figure out what to do, when my cockraoches sort of all got together in the pan and held a meeting. I could smell trouble was brewing, you understand? I just sat there watching. First thing you know they all take a beeline for the hole in the bottom of the all leading to the next apartment and starting fighting the cockroaches from next door. It was a real knock-out drag-down fight like something you never seen, a regular campaign thing. It was wild, man, it was wild! Next day the cockroaches from next door stayed where they were put, my own cockraches settled down to a peaceful disciplined life, and it’s been that way ever since.
“They keep regular sentries posted at that hole,” he went on. “Nobody can come in. I cried for weeks realizing I was punishing my own cockroaches for the sins of others. I spent days laying on the floor tyring to explain to them that I didn’t know, that I couldn’t hav possibly dug what was realling going on- and they forgave me."
—
Jack Kerouac The Town and The City
Honestly I’m jiving this book so hard. And I jive all you too, so hard that I just spent all that time typing that out - my wrists hurt now.
