as the bell tolls

8/8/2019 As The Bell Tolls

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As the Bell tolls

by

Gunter O. Swoboda

Gunter O. SwobodaP.O Box 655, Mona Vale, NSW 2103, Australia

+61299990429

Copyright 2010


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The near empty whiskey tumbler stared provocatively up at

Antonio Fanulli as he listened to the faint clanging of nearby

church bells. He looked up and stared into the distance as if he

could focus on something beyond the shabby door to the bar. For

an instant an air of anxious anticipation appeared on his face.

His normally full red lips set in his tanned face thinned into a

pencilled line above his cleft chin while his substantial eyebrows

met with apparent reluctance just above his aquiline nose.

Eleven. Antonio stopped counting as the last of the bells

fell silent. They had tolled eleven times. It was an hour, an

hour before midnight. He sat for a moment, poised. Then his

shoulders slumped back to their original melancholic stoop.

Antonio picked his glass up and swirled the remaining contents

into a whirlpool of gold causing the few ice cubes to career into

the crystal wall of the tumbler, tinkling seductively for a

refill. Lifting the glass to his mouth he tossed the rest of the

whiskey back. He savoured the heat hitting the back of his throat

and he sighed deeply.

As he placed the tumbler back on the table the barkeepers

gravelly voice drew Antonios attention away from the door.

Waiting for someone, Mr. Fanulli?

With a quizzical frown Antonio looked at the rotund figure of

the man who once, in his prime, had led a winning team of

footballers into a paddock of green and who would now break into a

sweat climbing the stepladder to reach for a bottle from the top

shelf of the bar.Waiting for someone? repeated Antonio as if trying to figure

out what his host had meant by that question.

No, not really. Antonio replied finally.

Patiently the barkeeper held out a new bottle of Chivas Regal.

Want another?

Yeah, why not. Antonios flat reply barely drifted up above

the noise of the chatter and music in the place. Even if Sam, the

barkeeper, had not heard Antonio he knew to fill the tumbler.


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Antonio quietly watched the golden fluid fill the glass. When

Sam stopped pouring he picked it up again. He lifted it in a

quiet salut.

Cheers, Sam, youre a good man.

Takes one to know one. Sam replied casually.

Antonio frowned. Dont judge me prematurely, my friend. If I

were you Id reserve judgement till tomorrow.

Sam smiled warmly. Youll be right. After all, wasnt your

fault now, was it?

Antonio didnt answer Sam but continued staring into the

drink. The barkeep, all to familiar with the changing tides of

moods in his customers let it go. He knew only too well when a

man needed to be left alone with his thoughts.

About to lift his glass again Antonios concentration was

interrupted when the door to the bar was thrust open. An ice cold

wind rushed into the room but was quickly shut down when someone

closed the door.

It wasnt the cold and screeching wind that robbed Antonio of

his breath but the towering figure of an Amazon who stood framed

in the doorway dusted with glistening flakes of snow.

Caught like roadkill in the headlights of an oncoming car

Antonio forgot what he was about to do next and simply stared at

the red and black dressed woman who had just entered. Fire and

ice, he thought, what a combination.

A clash of elements the woman stopped momentarily, her

flashing eyes surveying the close quarters of the room as ifsearching out a target. Flicking her raven hair back across her

shoulder she seemed to relax a little and casually strolled across

to the bar where she sat down on one of the three legged stools.

The bartender looked at Antonio and winked. He in turn

dismissed the luridly intimate invitation with an almost

imperceptible shake of his head, a meek gesture of resigned

futility. Antonio knew it was in direct opposition to the

bartenders optimism. He had never been good at picking up women


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So, you dont think that you made the right choice?

For the first time in a long time Antonio could feel something

welling up inside him. It echoed to the times when he could still

feel something but he couldnt be sure yet that it was anger. It

had been such a long time since hed felt angry. These days he

mostly felt nothing. When something did threaten to well up

inside of him he quickly drowned it with a hefty dose of alcohol.

He sat for a while longer choosing not to answer her

immediately. You never know when the next opportunity might

present itself to feel angry again, let alone to be in the right

time and place to let it all out.

Still struggling with the idea that she could be inside his

head Antonio watched the woman lean across to him and smile.

Come on, Antonio. You know youre an angry little mother

fucker.

She paused and lent a little closer still. He thought he

could feel her heat and there was a faint smell of something but

he couldnt figure out what it was.

Her rumbling voice dropped to barely a whisper hissing at him

like some flammable gas escaping a faulty pipe. Let it out! I

know you want to.

She stopped baring her teeth and lent back in the chair.

Not letting it out got you here in the first place, didnt

it?

Antonio now knew that what he felt was angry but knowing that

sheknew that made him want to let it out even less. Why shouldhe give her the satisfaction? He thought. Who the fuck was she

to yank his chain like that anyway?

What makes you say that?

Antonio flinched. His simpering question had escaped his

mouth without permission. Hows that for fucking choice then, he

thought. It wasnt how he wanted to answer her at all. His meek,

pathetic response was completely at odds with the searing heat of

anger that now gripped his guts. He had wanted to stay ice cold

on the outside and come back with something so insanely witty she


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would be gobsmacked. Instead he came out with a truly tepid

question.

Antonio was suddenly aware that the Amazon appeared completely

unperturbed by his feeble question. She looked as if she wasnt

even going to answer it. It suddenly occurred to him that if he

were in her position neither would he.

Well, its obvious isnt it? You wouldnt be here otherwise,

would you?

The woman bared her teeth again and Antonio quietly wished

that she would stop doing that. It made him feel as if he was

some prey animal felled in the savannah grasslands.

Grudgingly Antonio had to accept that she was right. If he

had the balls to say what he thought he wouldnt be getting

pissed. And if he hadnt gotten pissed all the time, well....

Antonio let the thought trail off. He wondered for a moment

if he had chosen to let it trail of or if it had done it on its

own accord simply because he didnt want to face the truth.

Another flash of her teeth and her rumbling voice stripped him

of his introspection.

Im right, aren't I? She paused. Go on, say it. She

goaded him.

Possibly.

Antonio felt trapped. No matter which way he wanted to turn

he seemed to come out looking like the poor, pathetic bastard he

struggled against being.

OK! Ill say it. Antonio paused and drew breath. Iwouldnt have lost the money if I hadnt been a piss-head.

The woman in black and red threw her head back and laughed a

throaty rumble.

The money?

She said the two words as if they had the edge of a razor.

She laughed again and when the thunder had settled she pretended

to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.

Antonio, if I was in your shoes the money would be the least

of my worries.


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Antonio winced. See, there it was again. Fucking women! You

do what they want and youre in the shit. You dont do what they

want and youre still in the shit.

As always the bartender knew when to step in and he came back

to present the bottle of Chivas Regal to Antonio. Ready for

another, Mr. Fanulli?

Antonio looked up the relief on his face clearly evident.

Yeah, sure. He looked at the woman. Do you want one too?

There was no emotion in his voice when he asked her; it just

seemed to be the right thing to do.

Me? The bartender looked puzzled. You mean me?

Antonio looked at the bartender trying to fathom what Sam was

asking. It was generally accepted by the patrons that it was not

the done thing to drink with him.

Antonio, Im not here to drink. The woman said casually.

So what are you here for? Antonio laughed cynically.

Certainly couldnt be for me. His sardonic tone reverberated

across the table.

The woman tilted her head inquisitively and then chuckled. I

might be. Depends on what you decide, doesnt it.

Decide? Antonio thought hed already decided. She knew that

so why did she want to hear it again?

I thought I was really clear the last time.

Antonio, you know that one decision leads to another. You can

never just stop at one.

Why not? It

s got to stop somewhere. He sighed heavily.I told you that last time but it wasnt what you wanted to hear.

It wasnt part of the plan, was it, Antonio?

He laughed cynically wondering when she got the idea that he

had a plan.

It wasnt about me, though, was it? There was an edge to

his voice, hinting at his desire to hurt her. It was all about

you and I was just the poor schmuck in the middle.

Antonio watched her face trying to see anything that would

either confirm or deny what he had just said but her face was like


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a mask, hiding anything and everything.

Dont change the subject, Antonio. She lent closer. You

havent got all night.

She pronounced each word precisely and each word left a tingle

on each and every one of Antonios vertebrae. It caused his skin

to tighten up and his hair stand on end. He wanted to come out

snapping and snarling like a cornered dog but even in his limited

experience of handling animals he knew that snarling dogs

generally ended up being put down.

He stretched his back trying to relieve his tension while

letting his hand run down his side into his coat pocket. He let

his fingers wrap around the cold steel of the .45. Antonio

however had to admit that the revolver provided none of the

comfort he was looking for.

As his fingers tightened around the wooden grip of the gun it

was as if another hand followed suit around his heart, making it

hard for him to breath. He could feel the air begin to rattle in

his constricting chest while his vision of the Amazon blurred

slightly.

Stay with me, Antonio, she said behind those bare white

teeth. Whatever time is left is yours completely.

She had barely finished the last word when Antonio heard the

first strike of the nearby church bell. His whole body and mind

chilled to the pealing sound. He jumped to his feet and faced the

bartender.

Hear that? You can hear that, cant you? His words spat outat the man.

The bell struck a second time.

Youd have to be deaf not to hear that. With each stroke of

that bell I bet youre wondering where all of this is leading,

what sordid detail of my life would be finally revealed to you to

help you understand what I was doing in this bar; drinking to get

drunk again. Then suddenly to be confronted by this vision, this

woman in red and black, this amazon who has more balls than I have

ever had.


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The bell struck again.

You know, I wondered initially if she was real; or was she

just be a figment of my drunken imagination? What choices is she

referring to that I have or have not made? What difference did

those choices make in my life wherein I seem to suffer through my

own conceit.

The bell struck a fourth time.

With each strike of that bell I seem to be left fewer choices

to where I simply wont have any.

Antonio pauses for a moment, reflecting on what he just said.

Well, isnt that a monumental sacrilege in our age to voice that

perhaps, just perhaps, we dont have any choice.

The bartender smiled wryly while wiping the length of the bar.

Antonio paused and walked across to his table and reached for

the tumbler. He hesitated before picking it up and turning back

to the big man.

Youre probably wondering what sort of drunken bastard I am.

Antonio stopped and drew a long laboured breath. Do you feel any

pity, feel any sympathy for me? Or do you only feel contempt for

what I am?

The bell struck for a fifth time.

OK, I admit it! I am a drunkard, a piss-pot; but then am I

not worth just a drop of sympathy, mixed with a little pity as

someone who wanted for more, someone who floundered in a world

that is so devoid of passion, a world that is mostly saturated by

a lust for greed?He cocks his head as if listening to the echo of his own

words. Yes, folks, there we have it. Two sins as one.

The bell struck again and Antonio chuckled. The bartender

looked surprised for an instant but then kept wiping.

Havent they brought me finally to my knees where I was so

easily castrated as to have no more choices at all? I am here now

though; just a simple player in a play masquerading as reality to

face whatever fate can dish out to me.

The bell rung out a seventh time.


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Once, a long time ago, they made me sit through Hamlet. I

dont remember much of it but somehow these lines stuck with me.

Antonio stopped and cleared his throat.

Yet I, a dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak like John-a-

dreams, unpregnant for my cause, and can say nothing. Now, here

you are, captured and listening to my broken voice.

The bell stuck again.

But you know, Im not a king and I dont know any unless you

count those pricks who occupy some corporate throne, who think

themselves kings of industry and who tell me that I should lead

other but when I do they strike me down; who tell me to play well

with others and when I do they punish me for lacking initiative;

who tell me to tighten my belt and when I do they take more of

whats mine.

Antonio looked up at the bartender while the bell struck

again.

Am I a coward? He paused. I was, once. But to be a

coward you have to feel and I havent felt anything for a long

time.

The bell struck again.

Who calls me villain? Breaks my pate across? Plucks off my

beard and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? Gives me

the lie i' the throat as deep as to the lungs? Who does me

this?

Another peal of the bell and Antonio shuddered.

I should take it, for it cannot be but I am pigeon-liveredand lack gall to make oppression bitter, or ere this I should ha'

fatted all the region kites with this slave's offal. Bloody,

bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless

villain!

He stopped and looked at the bartender.

Will you judge me for a villain or feel disdain for the

victim that I am? Could I perhaps be both? Isnt it just

possible that I am both?

Sam, the bartender didnt answer and simply continued to wipe


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the bar while Antonio, frustrated, pointed to the woman.

The spirit that I have seen may be a devil, and the devil

hath power t' assume a pleasing shape, yea, and perhaps out of my

weakness and my melancholy, as he is very potent with such

spirits, abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds more relative

than this. The play's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience

of the king.

Suddenly Antonio reached for the gun and took aim at the

woman. A shot rang out and for what seemed an age the woman and

Antonio stood facing each other. Then slowly, ever so slowly

Antonio crumbled to the floor amidst the final toll of the bell.

In one of the far corners of the bar a man in a grey suit

stood up. He unscrewed the silencer from a Walter PPK, slipped it

into a pocket and holstered the weapon. He walked across the

silent room to the door, nodded to the woman in red and black and

quickly disappeared into the night.

She in turn walked over to Antonios body and tapped it

callously with the tip of her shoe. She then reached casually

into her suit pocket and pulled out a mobile phone.

Mr. Goldman? Yes, can you pass a message on to Mr. Sachs.

She paused. Yes, no problem.

Again she stopped and listened.

No problem. She cocked her head and smiled. No. Im not

sure but he was rambling on about something. She paused again.

Yes, the cleanup crew is here. She frowned. No, there wont be

any complications.

as the bell tolls

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