Morris Desmond - Gump & Co

Take my word for it dont never let nobody make a movie of your lifes story...

Forrest Gump is back! The lovable man for all ages captured Americas heart in the No.1 bestselling novel Forrest Gump and in the blockbuster film, winner of six Academy Awards including Best Picture and Best Actor. Now he returns in the long-awaited sequel to the book hailed by Larry King as the funniest novel I have ever read. A little older, and wiser in his own unique way, he is still running through the kaleidoscopic events of our times and straight into the age of greed and instant gratification known as the 1980s.

One of the most phenomenally successful books of our time, Forrest Gump was praised as a wacky and funny nuthouse of a book (George Plimpton) and superbly controlled satire (Florence King, Washington Post Book World); Forrest himself should enter the annals of fiction as a great American hero (Rima Firrone, Ocala Star-Banner). Winston Groom continues to delight us with Gumps hilarious and heartwarming adventures. At least, Forrest would agree, I ain't led no humdrum life.

Contents

To my lovely wife

Anne-Clinton Groom,

who has been with Forrest

for lo these lovely years

The royal feast was done; the King

Sought some new sport to banish care,

And to his jester cried: Sir Fool,

Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!

The jester doffed his cap and bells,

And stood the mocking court before;

They could not see the bitter smile

Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head, and bent his knee

Upon the monarchs silken stool;

His pleading voice arose: O Lord,

Be merciful to me, a fool!

The room was hushed; in silence rose

The King, and sought his gardens cool,

And walked apart, and murmured low,

Be merciful to me, a fool!

Edward Rowland Sill, 1868

LET ME SAY this: Everbody makes mistakes, which is why they put a rubber mat around spitoons. But take my word for it dont never let nobody make a movie of your lifes story. Whether they get it right or wrong, it dont matter. Problem is, people be comin up to you all the time, askin questions, pokin TV cameras in your face, wantin your autograph, tellin you what a fine feller you are. Ha! If bullshit came in barrels, Id get me a job as a barrel-maker an have more money than misters Donald Trump, Michael Mulligan, an Ivan Bozosky put together. Which is a matter I will go into in a little bit.

But first, let me bring you up to date on my sorry tale. A lot has gone on in my life in the last ten or so years. First, I am ten or so years older, which is not as much fun as some people think. I have got a few gray hairs on my head, an I aint near as fast as I used to be, which is somethin I found out straightaway when I tried to make me some money playin football again.

It was down in New Orleans, where I had wound up after everthin else happened, an it was just me there. I had got a job sweepin out a strip joint called Wandas, which didnt close till about three a.m., an so I got my days pretty free. One night I was just settin there in a corner watchin my friend Wanda do her thing on stage when a big fight commenced up front. They was people hollerin, cussin, thowin chairs, tables, beer bottles, an knockin each other in the head, an women screamin, too. I did not think too much of all this, account of it happened about two or three times ever night, except this time, I thought I recognized one of the participants.

It was a big ole feller with a beer bottle in his hand, swingin it in a way that I had not seen since I was up to the University of Alabama way back when. Lo an behole, it was old Snake, the quarterback who one time had thowed the ball out of bounds on fourth down to stop the clock when we was playin them cornshucker bastids from Nebraska in the Orange Bowl twenty years ago. An that, of course, lost us the game an made me have to go to Vietnam an well, lets dont worry about all that now.

Anyhow, I went over an grapped the beer bottle from Snake, an he was so glad to see me he punched me on top of the head, which was a mistake because it sprained his wrist, an he commenced to holler an cuss, an about that time the police showed up an hauled all of us off to jail. Now, jail is a place I know somethin about, account of I have been there at various times. In the mornin, after everbody else sobered up, the jailer brung us some fried bologna an stale bread an begun astin if we want to call somebody to get us loose. Snake is mad as hell, an he say, Forrest, ever time I come around your big dumb ass, I wind up in hot water. Here I aint seen you in years and look what happens. We is thowed in jail! I just nodded my head, cause Snake is right.

Anyhow somebody come an bail us all out, Snake an his friends an me, too, an this guy is not very happy, an Snake, he ast me, What in hell were you doin in that dive anyhow? When I tole him I was the cleanup man, Snake get a kind of funny look on his face an says, Hell, Gump, I thought you still had the big srimp company over at Bayou La Batre. What happened? You was a millionaire. An I had to tell him the sad story. The srimp company went bust.

I had left the srimp company an gone on my way after a while, cause I got tired of all the bullshit that comes with runnin a big bidness enterprise. An I put the thing in the hands of my mama an my friends Lieutenant Dan from Vietnam an Mister Tribble, who was the chessmaster that taught me the game. First, Mama died, an thats all I got to say about that. Next, Lieutenant Dan calls me an says hes gonna quit, on account of hes made enough money anyhow. An then one day I got a letter from the Internal Revenue Service, says I aint paid my bidness taxes an they is fixin to shut me down an take all the boats an buildins an all, an when I went over there to see what was goin on, lo an behole, aint nothin goin on! All the buildins are about empty an weeds is growin up around the place, an they have done pulled out all the phones an turned the electricity off, an the sheriff has nailed up a paper on the front door sayin we are under foreclosure.

I gone around to see ole Bubbas daddy to find out what had happened. Now, Bubba was my partner an my friend from the army over at Vietnam, which is where he was kilt, but Bubbas daddy had helped me, an so I figgered I would get the real story from him. He is settin on the stoop of his house, lookin sad, when I walked up.

What is goin on with the srimp bidness? I ast.

He shook his head. Forrest, he says, it is a sad and sorry thing. Im afraid you have been ruint.

But why? I ast.

Betrayed is what he answered.

Then he tole me the story. While I was assing around in New Orleans, good ole Lieutenant Dan had took Sue, my friend who was a ape an orangutang, to be exact an gone back over to Bayou La Batre to help out with some problems runnin the srimp bidness. The problems was that we was runnin out of srimp to catch. It seems that everbody in the whole world wanted srimp. People in places like Indianapolis who had never even heard of srimp a few years before was now demandin that every fast-food restaurant serve them up big platters day an night. We caught srimp fast as we could, but there are just so many srimp to go around an after a few years, we wadnt catchin half what we had when we started, an in fact, the whole srimp industry was in a panic.

Bubbas daddy didnt know exactly what happened next, but whatever it was, things went from bad to worse. First, Lieutenant Dan quit. Bubbas daddy says he saw him drivin off in a big limousine with a lady wearin spike-heeled shoes an a blond Beatle wig, an Dan was wavin two big champagne bottles out the winder. Next, Mister Tribble done quit too. Just up an left one day, an after that so did everbody else, account of they not gettin paid, an finally, the only one left to answer the phones was ole Sue, an when the phone company pulled out the phones, Sue left, too. Guess he figgered he wadnt bein useful no more.