Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

actually laughed at Myra Breckinridge! My first instinct wasto slam shut the piano cover on his spidery fingers,breaking them all at once. But then I realized that hisphysical agony would do nothing for me, and so I laughed,too (a good sport like Carole Lombard), and said, "Whycrazy? Why mixed-up?" "Because what you heard is music,popular music and I am going to sell the whole motherscore, piece by piece, to the Four Skins." "What score?What skins?" He looked at me pityingly. "The Four Skinsare number four and number twenty-seven respectively inthe January Billboard. So this score--which is for thismother life of Elvis Presley big Buck Loner has inflictedupon us--will make me some money." "In that case, I thinkyour songs are perfectly apt." "I knew you had taste! Nowlisten, Myra, in some sick way you appeal to me. No, I reallymean t. I dig you and I was thinking why don't we... "Clem." Iwas firm yet--how can I deny it?--flattered. After all, I am awoman. "I enjoy your company, you know that. You're theonly student I can talk to but I could no more go to bed withyou... "Baby, baby, baby..." He interrupted me impatiently."Not with me, baby. I don't want to go to bed, the two of us.That's square. I mean a party, like maybe twenty cats...""Twenty men?" Not even my idlest daydreams of MyraBreckinridge, warrior queen, ever included a scene inwhich I was called upon to master twenty men at the sametime. Might it not be too much, psychologically? "Ten menand ten girls, you nit, or maybe seven of one and thirteen ofthe other or nine of one and eleven of the other. I meanwho's counting? Want to make the scene?" Clem looked at