BALDY’S SHOW that night was unremarkable until the end, when he announced that it was time to look into the Catalog of Human Misery. After the sound of the creaking cover of the catalog, there was the sound of rustling paper, turning pages, and then a long sigh from Baldy, and then the creaking cover again, and a thud when the catalog closed.
“Boys and girls,” he said, “I know you think that I can’t hear you, but I can. I have my ways. I have my devices. I know what you say, and I even know what you think. I know what goes through your minds each time I read to you from the Catalog of Human Misery. I can hear your little voices, even your inner voices. I can hear you asking, ‘Baldy, how can those of us out here in radioland go on living when we know that we are responsible for every entry in the catalog, every one, that we’re all guilty, that these things are our fault, that nous avons tous les mains sales, that we are all monsters?’ That’s what we hear them asking, isn’t it, Bob?”
“Yeah.”
“Lean in here, boys and girls. Lean in toward the radio. Lean in toward Baldy. Put your hands on the radio, boys and girls. Feel the power of the radio. Feel the hum and heat of the radio. Do you feel the hum and the heat? Do you feel the tingle in your fingers? That’s the evil coming out of you. Feel the evil coming out of you. Feel the guilt coming out of you. Give it to me, boys and girls. Give me all the evil in you. You will never have to feel ashamed of your hideous evil urges ever again. The urges are gone. Baldy’s got ’em. The shame is gone. Baldy’s got it. Don’t be embarrassed — do it! I see some of you out there are not putting your hands on that radio. You there, you boys and girls at that old hotel! Baldy sees you looking into your drinks and chuckling as if Baldy were just joking. Put those drinks down and get yourselves over to that radio and put your hands on it!”
Those of us in the lounge looked uneasily at one another to see whether we all agreed that Baldy was talking to us, and when he said, “Do it, boys and girls — don’t be embarrassed — do it for old Baldy,” we decided, unanimously, that he was talking to us, and though it embarrassed us to do so, we put our glasses down and circled the radio, laying our hands on it, as Baldy had asked us to.
“Feel the power of the radio waves!” said Baldy. “Feel the guilt coming out of you. Let me have it all! Give me all your nastiness. Give me your gluttony, your lust, your sloth, and all the rest of that stuff. I feel it! I feel it coming to me, boys and girls. I’ve got it! I’ve got it all. You’re free, boys and girls! Baldy’s got all the nastiness! Now you can be happy! Your hands are clean. Mine are dirty. I’ve got your guilt. I’ve got your evil urges. You can be happy at last!”
His wooden laugh rattled from the radio, rising and rasping until it became a hysterical shriek, and then a shot rang out, and then there was a moment of stunned silence, and then what was left of Baldy’s wooden head struck his wooden table, then another silence, and then Bob shouted, “There! That ought to make the bastards happy,” and he began to laugh Baldy’s disturbing laugh, in the same mad, rasping way, and then the microphone was switched off, leaving what would have been a permanent silence if all the inmates of Small’s Hotel hadn’t burst out laughing.
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