The Wings of Eagles Page #5

- Come on, with a little rhythm.

- I'm gonna move that toe, boy

- Go ahead. Go on.

- I'm gonna move that toe

- Now you got it.

- I'm gonna move that toe, old boy

- Let's hear you.

- I'm gonna move that toe

- Oh, you got to

- I'm gonna move that toe, boy

- I'm gonna move that toe

All of God's children got toes

So move it

All of God's children got toes

Let's move it

All of God's children got toes

Well, move it

All of God's children got toes

Let's mo...

- I'm...

- Doctor's here, sir.

Still at it, eh?

Johnny.

You know, you can overdo

those exercises.

You mean, I could kill myself?

No, I'm just saying

you could overdo the work.

Well, I don't care too much anymore

which way it is.

But one of us is gonna give,

either me or that big toe.

You may just be right.

You're sleeping better, eating better.

- Carson.

- Yes, sir.

This is against regulations,

but I feel it might do him some good.

- Alcohol, sir?

- Oh, no, no. Whiskey.

- Is it intoxicating?

- No, no, just a little... A few drops.

Oh, no, I couldn't do that.

Well, maybe just a few drops.

In some orange juice. That's not

habit-forming? All right, sir, trust me.

- Keep it under your hat.

- Yes, sir.

See you, Spig. Keep it up.

- How's your patient?

- Still alive.

I'll drop in to see him.

All right, hit it and hit it hard.

I'm gonna move that toe.

- I'm gonna move that toe.

- Doctor, sir.

- And Miss Crumley.

- Good evening, Wead.

Good evening, doctor.

Well, quite an arrangement.

My idea, sir.

"Dolores."

Oh, by the way, I was talking

to the commander...

...about Carson's temporary duty.

Well, what did he say?

As far as they're concerned,

they hope he never comes back.

- Will you excuse us, Miss Crumley.

- Yes, doctor.

- Carson.

- Yes, sir.

This is against

all medical ethics, Carson...

...but the slightly debilitating effects

of alcohol...

...are more then compensated

for by the physical stimulation...

...and the marked psychological benefit

to be derived.

I was thinking

the same thing myself, sir.

In other words, a good slug of booze

won't hurt him.

I want you to give him

some of this.

- All of it, sir?

- No, no.

A spoonful at a time,

in a little water or orange juice?

- Grapefruit.

- Grapefruit, right, sir.

If it doesn't upset Mr. Wead,

we might have another bottle next week?

- We'll see.

- Right.

- But keep it under your hat.

- Trust me, sir.

I can make better booze than that

in a bathtub.

All right, let's go.

I'm gonna move that toe. Come on.

- I'm gonna move that toe.

- That's it.

- I'm gonna move that toe.

- Move it.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I'm gonna move that toe. I've got to.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I'm gonna move that toe. I've got to.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I'm gonna move that toe.

I gotta move that toe.

I've gotta move it.

I gotta move that toe.

I gotta move that toe.

I gotta move that toe.

I'm gonna move it.

I gotta move it.

- More?

- Please.

Now, you enjoy that nice fresh air.

- His wife.

- All right.

Good morning. Well, look at you.

Pretty soft.

All you gotta do is lay there,

look at the children in the park.

- Pretty ships out in the bay.

- What are the men with legs doing?

Oh, they're trying to learn

to use their heads.

The millionaires are back from Florida,

and the bums are out of the poolrooms.

- What are you reading? Dames, murder?

- Love.

- Who?

- Lousy.

He writes like he'd used my big toe

for a pencil.

You don't like any of the books

I bring, do you?

Not even the one I swiped

from the chaplain.

You know, the one that was banned

in Boston?

You don't like it, why don't you

try writing some yourself?

- It's not a bad idea.

- No pictures.

You know, as far as I can make out,

writing is just like telling lies...

...only they wrap it up in fancy paper.

You are about the world's greatest

natural-born liar I ever met...

...so why don't you try it?

- Eight months.

- Oh, quit bellyaching.

Eight months,

and it seems like eight years.

What are you crying about?

You were 4-1 not to be here at all.

You were about 100-1

never to be puffing on a cigarette...

...and about 500-1 not to be propped

up here like the Sultan of Pandemonia.

And a million-to-one not to be able to sign

your name on your paycheck.

Which, incidentally, after the allotment for

your wife and the kids, came to 94 bucks.

I gave 10 bucks to each of the charge

accounts, which left us 14 fish.

Here you are, sign it.

- I'm broke.

- Broke? You are busted.

Come in.

Well, hello, Alice. Or is it Agatha?

Or is it Dolores?

No, it couldn't be Dolores.

Hey, that's not bad.

That's the best yet.

The best yet. Well, let's get to work.

- All right.

- Who sent the flowers?

- Sent what?

- Those red roses.

Don't look at me. I'm not in the habit

of sending flowers to men.

Let me know when you can see it. Okay?

Now, what we gotta do is concentrate.

- Was there a card in them?

- No, there was no card.

Okay, now, when you think...

- Are you sure there was no card in them?

- I told you there was no card.

Use your brain for a generator, right?

Let's push that power all the way down,

right down here to these feeder nerves.

Right... Right in here. Okay?

Got the idea?

All right, now, let's concentrate.

That's it, that's the idea...

- It moved.

- It what?

Mis... Mr. Wead, I...

I saw...

The foot. Do it again.

- What?

- It move... Move... It... Hey, nurse.

Doctor. Anybo...

He moved.

He moved his toe, Miss Crumley.

Why do you always have her husband

coming through the door with a gun?

Did the guy ever get away with it?

I'd have been dead a long time ago.

- You're late.

- Here you are. Right off the boat.

Scraped off.

Hi, Mr. Wead.

Gee, you look great. Just great.

- Thanks.

- Sitting up in bed and everything.

Still writing them stories?

Arab sheiks, murder?

Now I believe in miracles.

That's all that happens. Except there.

What's that, Spig?

Twenty for 20:

20 stories, 20 rejections.

I'm batting.000.

But you're batting.

Let's have it straight, doc.

You gonna retire me?

I'm afraid I am.

But we've got some good news

for you, Spig.

Good news.

Here you are, sir. Wheels for legs.

- Doctor, permission, please.

- Miss Crumley has made a request...

...which is strictly

against naval regulations.

- But if my colleague concurs...

- Oh, by all means, doctor.

- Permission granted.

- Thank you, doctor.

This is elderberry wine

that my aunt made back in Wisconsin.

Especially for this occasion.

Miss Crumley, thanks. Thanks.

Wind...

...sky...

...and sea.

And elderberry wine.

Simple things, eh, Jughead?

Sheer poetry.

Now, Mr. Wead, sit back

and close your eyes.

- What for?

- Because I said so.

Take a look.

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