The Onion Eaters by J. P. Donleavy Page A

and tea pot. A candle making big dark holes out of her eyes. The thump of Elmer’s tail on the stone floor. Spreading out this feast in front of us. Packed back in the bed. Grease cooled white on the bacon. Steam rising from the cups of tea. Rose with a slice of bread spread with a slab of butter. Takes up an egg of which there are three on her plate and lays it over the fork and shovels it into her mouth. Followed by the bread and mouthfuls of tea.
    ‘You know this is grand. Like a hotel. I was in one once. As the guest of the Baron. It had a bathroom not twenty feet away down the hall. I took seven baths. One after the other. Went out of there so clean the skin was nearly off me. The Baron never took a liberty with me. Perfect gentleman he is. For the matter of that I don’t think the Baron has ever taken a liberty with any woman. If he’s got his music he hasn’t a care in the world. Aren’t you going to eat that.’
    ‘I’m not awfully hungry.’
    ‘Fair enough hand it right over here.’
    Rose wiped plates and saucers with a piece of bread soaking up tomato seeds, congealed fat and bacon specks. Laughing and growling after the final mouthfuls. A lively strain of organ music in the lulls of the wind. No dull moment in this place. Not even at dawn. Pigs, snakes, barons, scientists and high heeled pieces of arse come floating down the halls. Someone may even show up called Boris. Who can play parts not yet cast. And star as a rectum. In the final production. And I could end up footing the bill for this original opera.
    ‘I like a snack of an evening. Give us a flash of it. That thing down there. Can’t I see it showing signs of raising the bed covers off us.’
    ‘That’s my knee.’
    ‘You don’t say.’
    ‘Yes I do.’
    ‘Well give us a look at your knee then.’
    ‘There.’
    ‘Ah that’s a great scar you’ve got. What ever did that.’
    ‘My father once when he was chasing me.’
    ‘Poor lad. God help you. Grrrrrrr. I’ve got holt of it. What’s wrong with you you won’t let me see it. Sure the scientists testing the distillate prance around their laboratory all day with them sticking out. The whole of the population passing down in the street not a stone’s throw away. You’d wonder if they ever tell their sins to God. Such whoppers that the almighty would be sent mental. Hasn’t Franz said to me there’s no supreme being. Would you believe that.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘By God the bunch of them have been right enough about a few things, it makes you think. Do you think there’s a god.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Ah thank God of that. I’m glad to hear it. That Franz would tell you the sky was green and that you could eat it on tuesdays. He has the craziest horn I’ve ever seen. Curves upwards at you like a banana. Yours seems straight enough. There’s a man in town, now the quietest most elegant well spoken gentleman you could meet, came courting me. Didn’t I think I was right once and for all. The good looks of him would make you faint. Doesn’t he accept an invitation to come for a little dinner I’m giving him down in the flooded flat. Embarrassed as I am to meet him at the door with a pair of me brother’s boots to wear. He was lovely. Sits down without a murmur of discontent his feet bunched up in the boots, the water splashing around us. I had the couch propped up on paving stones. Ready for any delight he cared to bestow. A dozen eggs and a pound of rashers we had between us. Like yourself he was shy. I couldn’t let him turn off the electric as it would throw you dead into the water with a blaze of current. He kept saying could we have it dark. So I finally aimed an old stale loaf of bread at the bulb and put us into darkness. I was on the couch. I could hear him wading towards me through the water. And didn’t the headlights of a car go by on the street. Well I had a fit when I saw it. He had a thing on him like the prow of a ship. Appropriate at the time. But I said for the love of