Chicken Little: The Inside Story (A Jungian ... - Inner City Books

78 Chicken Little: The Inside Story
About seven the doorbell rang. It was a delivery. Dear D., always
planning ahead. He’d ordered a buffet tray of assorted meats
and cheese, smoked salmon, cognac paté, oysters, cabbage rolls,
Caesar salad, rye bread, sweet biscuits and a Bavarian chocolate
mousse. You can’t do much better than that; well, I couldn’t. There
were even a couple of beef bones for Sunny. D. and I set it all out
so we could help ourselves when we felt like it.
For a while I got stuck with Norman and Arnold, trading stories
about their escapades in the Niederdorf. Drinking and screwing—
borrr-ring. You’d think they had the I.Q. of Turkey Lurkey. I mean
who cares? I’ve been around too, I could tell stories of my own, but
what’s the point? You only give yourself away.
I was half listening when the corner of my eye caught D. showing
my sketch book to Brillig, dangling his feet like an elf in one of
D.’s leather armchairs. I went over to find them looking at the
drawings I’d done of us.
Brillig smiled up at me.
“Miss Rachel,” he said, “you have a remarkable talent.”
I glowed with pleasure. The thought came to me that if Brillig
was half my age, or me twice mine, I’d show him a good time. It
was an amusing thought, but pretty surprising too, because it didn’t
fit my image of myself. Well, what can you do. D. says you’re not
responsible for everything that goes on in your head, only for what
you do about it. So maybe he has fantasies of his own. All the
same, it seems pretty dumb to think of hopping into bed with somebody
just because they like your work.
Norman came and peered over my shoulder.
“I look like Sam Shepard,” he remarked.
“That’s how I see you,” I said, “handsome in a weathered way.”
“How come I look like a gangster?” asked Arnold.
Brillig said it was absolutely the best likeness of himself he’d
ever seen, and might he possibly have a copy to take home and
hang in his study. “I seldom find myself in such compatible company,”
he said. “At my age you like to have a record of what’s important.
Please, do me the honor of explaining how you are able to
capture one’s inner essence with such grace.”
Talk about a cup overflowing.