#horwitz

“Hey, Horwitz,” I said. “You ever pass by the lagoon in Central Park? Down by Central Park South?” “The what?” “The lagoon. That little lake, like, there. Where the ducks are. You know.” “Yeah, what about it?” “Well, you know the ducks that swim around in it? In the springtime and all? Do you happen to know where they go in the wintertime, by any chance?” “Where who goes?” “The ducks. Do you know, by any chance? I mean does somebody come around in a truck or something and take them away, or do they fly away by themselves—go south or something?” Old Horwitz turned all the way around and looked at me. He was a very impatient-type guy. He wasn't a bad guy, though. “How the hell should I know?” he said. “How the hell should I know a stupid thing like that?”... ...“The fish don't go no place. They stay right where they are, the fish. Right in the goddam lake.” “The fish—that's different. The fish is different. I'm talking about the ducks,” I said. “What's different about it? Nothin's different about it,” Horwitz said. Everything he said, he sounded sore about something. “It's tougher for the fish, the winter and all, than it is for the ducks, for Chrissake. Use your head, for Chrissake.” I didn't say anything for about a minute. Then I said,  “All right. What do they do, the fish and all, when that whole little lake's a solid block of ice, people skating on it and all?” Old Horwitz turned around again. “What the hellaya mean what do they do?” he yelled at me. “They stay right where they are, for Chrissake.” “They can't just ignore the ice. They can't just ignore it.” “Who's ignoring it? Nobody's ignoring it!” Horwitz said. He got so damn excited and all, I was afraid he was go-ing to drive the cab right into a lamppost or something. “They live right in the goddam ice. It's their nature, for Chris-sake. They get frozen right in one position for the whole winter.” “Yeah? What do they eat, then? I mean if they're frozen solid, they can't swim around looking for food and all.” “Their bodies, for Chrissake—what'sa matter with ya? Their bodies take in nutrition and all, right through the goddam seaweed and crap that's in the ice. They got their pores open the whole time. That's their nature, for Chris-sake. See what I mean?” He turned way the hell around again to look at me. Oh,” I said. I let it drop. ... ...“Listen,” he said. “If you was a fish, Mother Nature'd take care of you, wouldn't she? Right? You don't think them fish just die when it gets to be winter, do ya?” “No, but—” “You're goddam right they don't,” Horwitz said, and drove off like a bat out of hell.