Page 133

By Jack Joseph Smith

1355 beam coming through the slightly opened door, iihiskey bottles covered the large desk and the faces of Hanmerigan and Uncle Jackie were laughing loudly, as their nouths reached out from the dark corners and foes may fathers head, His physical presence remained clear, as he tried to ward then off, and finally offered them a drink, They said, yes, together in long tones, and my father poured them each a shot and put the small glasses in their hands reaching madly out. Martin Pe waa there; and so were different gamblers and racketers, that had been on sie as eo South America, What's the little nigger man that collects your cigar butts going to do Rudy, when, you go brokee . The voices of Hammerigan ond Uncle Yackie were still rising in a simultaneously echoed hysteria from the corners, when I stood back terrorified, All but the bodies i of flartin P, and my father, were passing through each other along the walls, while their faces gathered in distinguished forms in the center of the office, Have anouther shot of whiskey for old timegsake, my.father stemmered, But what are you going to do about the cigar bitte, the voices echoed Over and over wcast Wh) TE Martinp, preKed Rod Vie pockEr Hammerigan, I said, I ran a ne; onan over in the company truck, but he didn't sue the companye Took 4 fhich An ov tot by Ms cute Why, the voices questioned loudly in laughter? My TAT hEers WAL a Because he was blind and poor, and could not speak very well. Did you give him anouther shot of whiskey? ET, pur thE WWaNE: ve SM [71 6 OWN Poe HEP, Aud pu hE Why nots the voices pursued? F Z WRNES Kacl id body 5 peker WARNE, CN IN Hl LA pe [with My SULA VLW/NY Vile AMT) rZ scEW EE tu lam tin teresP nP deter A

Original Scan

Page 133

AI Interpretation

GPT

In a noisy dream set in the father's dark office, whiskey bottles, Hammerigan, Uncle Jackie, Martin P., gamblers, and racketeers crowd around while mocking voices press a cruel, racist story about a poor blind man struck by the company truck and then fobbed off with whiskey and a cigar.

The OCR breaks badly in places, but the core image is clear: the business world has turned into a grotesque tribunal of laughter, race hatred, and moral rot. The father's office becomes a haunted chamber where guilt and corruption speak in overlapping mouths.

Claude

The dream office fills with Hammerigan and Uncle Jackie's laughing faces from the corners, Martin P. present, while the question about what the little nigger man who collects his cigar butts will do echoes as mockery — handwritten insertions fill the right margin.