New York, an unnamed public house, 1809.
"Two more, if you please, on me."
This is not a narrative place. At least, not overly. Filth rarely is, especially when it is not very noble.
The sanctity of poverty, he might have said some time ago, is an invention of the rich.
"They aren't terribly respectful children are they? Not very Confucian?"
The bare minimum of a narrative then. Two men, the new one walking in to the one who has been here for some time, in the filth, pulling up a chair and waving a hand.
"No no, don't get up. And forget I said that."
Sitting down.
"It's just that I sympathize. I mean, where did it get you? Here. And a couple of years in prison. Of course I feel a little justified in telling you I told you so. I told you to stay in the sailor business, if you remember."
A sigh.
"But you don't, do you."
A shake of the tawny head.
"I know, I know! It was just! But, Paine, just look at you! A rebellion for a just cause is still a rebellion!"
A laugh. Deep from the belly.
"Two of them! Like twins! Bouncing baby revolutions! Ha Ha!"
Two men and one's sober and laughing, and one isn't.
"Oh Thomas. Thomas! You're lucky it was my business you stumbled into, as strange as that seems. You're lucky this was the way your talent lent itself. If you'd put a little more art into your matter you'd have been telling stories, and then, well, I don't know when you'd be able to stop. Rambunctious, forgetful, spiteful as they are, these children of ours, they are also short lived. Amen, eh Thomas? Haha."
Drumming fingers. Dead quiet.
"Alright. That was in poor taste."
Two drinks arrive.
"It was a good run you know. Words of fire, all that. Some nice ones, history will at least have to give you that. Frankly I think summertime patriot is a bit jaundiced, but I think posterity will give you that too. I wouldn't worry about it Thomas. It was a fine run. Ups and downs together you know. It's funny how things change. I mean, what would your father say now? 'Tut tut, I warned you that playing with ruffians would get you roughed up. You should have gone to church more often, grown up moral. Too much heady living..tut tut...' -- oh he was a joyless man Thomas. But you."
Rising, a strong two fingered tap to the chest. Emphasis.
"What you Should have done Thomas, was learned when to Stop."
It's a smile. Sure.
"No, I have to move on Thomas, places to be, all that. They're both for you. You stay, and have your drinks, clean yourself up for god's sake. I'm sending someone out for you in a few days, you'll love her. -- No no. You're going to sit here and have your drinks Thomas and then you're going to go upstairs and get some sleep, I paid for a room, and you'll wash up eventually."
"And I'm going to walk away."
Thomas Paine died in 1809 after having given birth to two revolutions. He died in disfavor of the people of each of those rebellions.
"Two more, if you please, on me."
This is not a narrative place. At least, not overly. Filth rarely is, especially when it is not very noble.
The sanctity of poverty, he might have said some time ago, is an invention of the rich.
"They aren't terribly respectful children are they? Not very Confucian?"
The bare minimum of a narrative then. Two men, the new one walking in to the one who has been here for some time, in the filth, pulling up a chair and waving a hand.
"No no, don't get up. And forget I said that."
Sitting down.
"It's just that I sympathize. I mean, where did it get you? Here. And a couple of years in prison. Of course I feel a little justified in telling you I told you so. I told you to stay in the sailor business, if you remember."
A sigh.
"But you don't, do you."
A shake of the tawny head.
"I know, I know! It was just! But, Paine, just look at you! A rebellion for a just cause is still a rebellion!"
A laugh. Deep from the belly.
"Two of them! Like twins! Bouncing baby revolutions! Ha Ha!"
Two men and one's sober and laughing, and one isn't.
"Oh Thomas. Thomas! You're lucky it was my business you stumbled into, as strange as that seems. You're lucky this was the way your talent lent itself. If you'd put a little more art into your matter you'd have been telling stories, and then, well, I don't know when you'd be able to stop. Rambunctious, forgetful, spiteful as they are, these children of ours, they are also short lived. Amen, eh Thomas? Haha."
Drumming fingers. Dead quiet.
"Alright. That was in poor taste."
Two drinks arrive.
"It was a good run you know. Words of fire, all that. Some nice ones, history will at least have to give you that. Frankly I think summertime patriot is a bit jaundiced, but I think posterity will give you that too. I wouldn't worry about it Thomas. It was a fine run. Ups and downs together you know. It's funny how things change. I mean, what would your father say now? 'Tut tut, I warned you that playing with ruffians would get you roughed up. You should have gone to church more often, grown up moral. Too much heady living..tut tut...' -- oh he was a joyless man Thomas. But you."
Rising, a strong two fingered tap to the chest. Emphasis.
"What you Should have done Thomas, was learned when to Stop."
It's a smile. Sure.
"No, I have to move on Thomas, places to be, all that. They're both for you. You stay, and have your drinks, clean yourself up for god's sake. I'm sending someone out for you in a few days, you'll love her. -- No no. You're going to sit here and have your drinks Thomas and then you're going to go upstairs and get some sleep, I paid for a room, and you'll wash up eventually."
"And I'm going to walk away."
Thomas Paine died in 1809 after having given birth to two revolutions. He died in disfavor of the people of each of those rebellions.