John Kennedy Toole - A Confederacy of Dunces (Chap. 10.2) lyrics

In Mattie's Ramble Inn, Jones poured a gla**ful of beer and sank his long teeth into the foam. “That Lee woman ain't treating you right, Jones,” Mr. Watson was telling him. “One thing I don like to see a colored man make fun of hisself for being colored. That what she be doing with you fix up like a plantation darky.” “Whoa! Color cats got it har enough without peoples busting out laughing cause they color. sh**. I make my mistake when I tell that Lee mother a police tell me to get a job. I shoulda tell her them fair employment peoples sending me over, scare that gal a little.” “You better go to the po-lice and tell them you quit tin at that place but you gonna fin you another job.” “Hey! I ain walkin in no precinc and flappin my mouth at no po-lice. Them po-lice take one look at me, throw my a** in jail. Whoa! Color peoples cain fin no job, but they sure can fin a opening in jail. Goin in jail the bes way you get you somethin to eat regular. But I rather starve outside. I rather mop a who*e floor than go to jail and be making plenny license plate and rug and leather belt and sh**. I jus was stupor enough to get my a** snatch up in a trap at that Night of Joy. I gotta figure this thing out myself.” “I still say you go to the po-lice and tell them you be between job a little while.” “Yeah. And maybe I be between job about fifdy year. I ain seen no peoples screamin for unsk** color cats. Ooo-wee. Somebody like that Lee bastar know plenny po-lice. Otherwise that B-drinker, knockout drop cathouse be close down long ago. I ain taking no chance going to no Lee friend in the po-lice and sayin, ‘Hey, man, I jus be vagran a little while.' He say, ‘Okay, boy, you be serving jus a little while, too.' Whoa!” “Well, how the sabotage comin along.” “Pretty poor. Lee make me work overtime on the floor the other day, she see the crap getting a little thicker so pretty soon her poor, stupor customer be up to they ankle in dus. sh**. I tol you I wrote a address on one of her orphan package, so if she still distribution for the United Fun maybe we be getting some answer on that. I sure like to see wha that address bringing in. Maybe it'll be bringing in a po-lice. Whoa!” “It pretty clear you not gettin nowhere. Go talk to the po-lice, man. They understand your story.” “I scare of the po-lice, Watson. Ooo-wee. You be scare, too, if you was jus standin in Woolsworth and some police drag you off. Especially when Lee probly goin roun the whirl with half the police on the force. Whoa!” Jones sent up what looked like a cloud, a radioactive one which gradually sent some fallout down onto the bar and the cooler filled with pickled meat. “Say, whatever happen to that dumb mother was in here that day, the one working for Levy Pant? You ever seen him aroun again?” “The man talking about demonstratin?” “Yeah, the cat got him that fat white freak for a leader, the one telling them poor color peoples they suppose to drop a nuclear bomb on top they factory, k** theirselves and get what's left of their a** throwed in jail.” “I ain't seen him since.” “sh**. I like to fin out where that fat freak hiding out. Maybe I call up Levy Pant and ax for him. I like to drop him in the Night of Joy like a nuclear bum. Seem like he the kin make that Lee mother sh** in her drawer. Whoa! If I gonna be a doorman, I gonna be the mos sabotaging doorman ever guarded a plantation. Ooo-wee. The cotton field be burn to the ground before I'm through.” “Watch out, Jones. Don be getting yourself in no trouble.” “Whoa!”