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“The bath!” said everyone.
“No!” Vamenos flailed. “The night air! I’m dead!”
They hustled him yelling out and down the hall.
Now here stood Vamenos, unbelievable in white suit, beard shaved, hair combed, nails scrubbed.
His friends scowled darkly at him.
For was it not true, thought Martínez, that when Vamenos passed by, avalanches itched on mountaintops? If he walked under windows, people spat, dumped garbage, or worse. Tonight now, this night, he would stroll beneath ten thousand wide-opened windows, near balconies, past alleys. Suddenly the world absolutely sizzled with flies. And here was Vamenos, a fresh-frosted cake.
“You sure look keen in that suit, Vamenos,” said Manulo sadly.
“Thanks.” Vamenos twitched, trying to make his skeleton comfortable where all their skeletons had so recently been. In a small voice Vamenos said, “Can I go now?”
“Villanazul!” said Gómez. “Copy down these rules.”
Villanazul licked his pencil.
“First,” said Gómez, “don’t fall down in that suit, Vamenos!”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t lean against buildings in that suit.”
“No buildings.”
“Don’t walk under trees with birds in them in that suit. Don’t smoke. Don’t drink—”
“Please,” said Vamenos, “can I sit down in this suit?”
“When in doubt, take the pants off, fold them over a chair.”
“Wish me luck,” said Vamenos.
“Go with God, Vamenos.”
He went out. He shut the door.
There was a ripping sound.
“Vamenos!” cried Martínez.
He whipped the door open.
Vamenos stood with two halves of a handkerchief torn in his hands, laughing.
“Rrrip! Look at your faces! Rrrip!” He tore the cloth again. “Oh, oh, your faces, your faces! Ha!”
Roaring, Vamenos slammed the door, leaving them stunned and alone.
Gómez put both hands on top of his head and turned away. “Stone me. Kill me. I have sold our souls to a demon!”
Villanazul dug in his pockets, took out a silver coin, and studied it for a long while.
“Here is my last fifty cents. Who else will help me buy back Vamenos’s share of the suit?”
“It’s no use.” Manulo showed them ten cents. “We got only enough to buy the lapels and the buttonholes.”
