Kurt Vonnegut's Short Stories

By kurt vonnegut, kurt vonnegut's short stories summary and analysis of "tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow".

Lou Schwartz and his wife Em Schwartz stand on the balcony of their New York apartment, discussing their frustrations with Gramps . The narrator explains the situation. Lou is 112 years old and Em is 93; they and everyone else on Earth have been taking a drug called anti-gerasone that stops the aging process. It is made from mud and dandelions, and is readily available to people of all ages.

Lou and Em live in a crowded apartment with their entire extended family, crammed onto mattresses in the hallway, while Gramps keeps the only private bedroom for himself. Exploiting his seniority, Gramps decides who gets to sleep on the only other comfortable piece of furniture - a daybed - based on who is currently in his favor. At the time the story starts, Lou and Em are enjoying that comfort.

Through Lou and Em's conversation, we learn that few people are dying of natural causes because all the diseases have been cured. All the earth's supply of metal and gasoline has been used up, and there is no more arable land for growing crops. Thus, most people must eat processed seaweed and processed sawdust. Lou and Em recall the days when people were exploring space; now, escaping Earth is too expensive to be feasible. Gramps will not die until he decides to, meaning that people like Lou and Em will never have a chance to progress to greater comforts. In their conversation, Em forcefully suggests that they try to facilitate Gramps's death by diluting his anti-gerasone - this would eventually bring on his natural death.

Em and Lou return inside to face Gramps and the rest of their extended family, all of whom appear to be in their late twenties or early thirties due to anti-gerasone. In contrast, Gramps looks seventy, his age when anti-gerasone was invented. He regularly claims he will let himself die when a certain occasion has come, but then chooses a later occasion, so that the family does not believe him.

The entire family is watching the news on television. In response to nearly every news story, Gramps claims, "We did that a hundred years ago!" or "We said that a hundred years ago!" (321). Gramps commands that everyone else watch in silence. One story announces the birth of Lowell H. Hitz at the Chicago Lying-In Hospital.

At one point, Lou imitates Gramps under his breath, but the older man hears it and demands Lou fetch his will, which he alters regularly to reflect his new preferences. He scribbles an alteration to the will, writing Lou out of it and naming Lou's father Willy Schwartz as the new favorite. That means Willy will be able to sleep in the daybed, while Lou and Em will be relegated to the worst sleeping position, on a mattress in the hallway right by the bathroom.

Later, Lou takes a nap on the mattress, and is awakened when someone steps over him to get to the bathroom. He hears a gurgling noise, and opens the bathroom door to find his great-grandnephew Morty Schwartz diluting Gramps's anti-gerasone with water, after having apparently poured half of it down the drain. In effect, he is trying to trick Gramps into again again so that the older man will die.

Morty exits the bathroom without saying a word, and Lou decides to save Gramps's life by pouring the replacing the diluted anti-gerasone with full strength anti-gerasone. Unfortunately, Gramps enters as he is pouring the diluted liquid out, so that Lou looks guilty. In surprise, Lou drops the bottle and it shatters. Gramps simply instructs him to clean up the shattered bottle, and leaves quietly. Many of the family members were standing right behind Gramps, and they filter away too.

Crying, Em comforts Lou, blaming herself for suggesting the idea in the first place. The next morning, they quietly prepare Gramps's breakfast - real food, not processed food - and deliver it to his bedroom. However, he has disappeared, leaving on a note explaining that he has left to die because of what Lou did, and that he has rewritten his will to divide everything he has equally amongst the family.

Immediately, the entire family starts to fight, each person claiming he or she is entitled to the private bedroom. Willy claims it by right of seniority, while Lou argues he makes the most money so deserves the rest. Lou and Em's son Eddie Schwartz he should inherit the private bedroom because he was never alive during a time when privacy was normal. The fight grows loud and intense.

Two hours into the fight, the cops arrive and cart the entire family off to prison. Contrary to expectation, prison is spacious - each member of the Schwartz family has a private cell. From adjacent cells, Lou and Em discuss their hopes of staying there an entire year, and wonder how they could be sentenced to solitary confinement, where they would have complete privacy. Annoyed, the turnkey threatens to throw them back into the outside world if they do not quiet down. He makes it clear that prisoners are expected to stay quiet about jail's comforts once discharged, or else they are not allowed back.

Meanwhile, Gramps returns to the Schwartz home, and moves the daybed in front of the television to watch it in privacy. The whole note was a scam to rid himself of annoyances.

On the news, the announcer speaks of a new invention called super-anti-gerasone, which reverses aging in those people who were already old when the original anti-gerasone was developed. For just dollars a day, they can become indistinguishable from everyone else on the planet, rather than being marked by age. Gramps writes down the information to receive a free trial carton of super-anti-gerasone, and immediately feels younger.

This short story was originally titled "The Big Trip Up Yonder" when it first appeared in Galaxy Science Fiction magazine in January, 1954. It was not printed with the title "Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow" until the 1961 collection Canary in a Cat House . The new title comes from Shakespeare's famous line from the play Macbeth :

She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. — Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17-28)

The soliloquy here paints life as a succession of useless moments, lots of "sound and fury" that amount to "nothing." Through the allusion, Vonnegut comments upon the lives of characters who live in a world where everyone has the comfort of life, but no duty or pressure to contribute anything good or positive.

Indeed, this idea resonates throughout Vonnegut's story. Rather than living their long lives to the fullest, the Schwartz family spends most of their days watching television. The irony is that they live in a world that had gotten rid of the most severe dangers - sickness and death - and yet this comfort only elucidates the meaningless of their lives. They escape from the misery of their wasted, useless days by watching a serial show called The McGarvey Family , which Gramps has been watching for one hundred and twelve years. Just before Gramps catches Lou appearing to pour out his anti-gerasone, Lou overhears the episode wrapping up with the words: "Thus ends the 29,121st chapter in the life of your neighbors and mine, the McGarveys" (325). The announcer's voice points out the parallel between the lives of the McGarvey family and those of the Schwartz family, all of which seem to go on forever without ever producing anything of note.

The theme of overpopulation that is prevalent throughout Vonnegut's short fiction appears here again: in this case, the drug anti-gerasone has enabled everyone on Earth to live an indefinitely long life by preventing the aging process. There is simply not enough room on the planet for all the people who are still alive and refuse to die. It is a hallmark of Vonnegut's comic science fiction that wonderful inventions only illustrate the ugliness of human nature, and this story provides a perfect instance of that, especially when we learn at the end that Gramps has in fact decided not to die. Instead, he only wanted to have even more of the family's limited resources for himself. Rather than thinking of his family's discomfort, he looks out only for himself, even ordering the new super-anti-gerasone that will reverse his aging process so he can live even longer.

Of course, Vonnegut is no idealist, and his world's comfort comes at the price of certain controls. Through Em and Lou's expository conversation, we learn that the government has raised taxes for the purpose of funding defense and old-age pensions. This theme of an overpowering, controlling government is common throughout Vonnegut's work, and is often linked to the problem of population control. The most immediate question this situation raises concerns the environment, the question of how humans can continue to take advantage of the planet's resources without destroying them. In this story, the answer is that we make compromises, making our lives miserable (through over-crowding and limited food) for the sake of survival. The story does not answer which option is better, but does suggest that we cannot have it all.

This situation also evokes the theme of individual identity, which gets lost amongst so many people. Though we only see the Schwartz apartment, it serves as a microcosm of a world where individuals get lost to the crowd, unable to distinguish themselves. Anti-gerasone is actually a symbol of sameness; it makes everyone the same age and wipes out distinctions in appearance. Most grotesque is that everyone wants to be this way. As Gramps watches television alone in his newly vacated apartment, the announcer asks, "Wouldn't you pay $5,000 to be indistinguishable from everyone else?" (330). It is a rhetorical question. Thanks to the messages the population has been receiving from the media and government, the answer is obviously yes. Again, Vonnegut presents a situation where an ostensibly positive situation also has a demented flipside.

Vonnegut's tone is ironic throughout the story; he uses the characters to point out how ridiculous this extension of everyone's lives has become. For instance, when Em suggests diluting Gramps's anti-gerasone for the first time, Lou scolds her, saying that such a thing would be "against Nature" (315). The dramatic irony is that this society has already configured an entirely unnatural situation. The point here is that mankind tends to justify its manipulation of the environment as 'natural,' rather than face the reality of what he is doing. Another example of irony is the situation the Schwartz family discovers in jail: it is much more comfortable than the home they had been inhabiting, since they have their own private cells with beds and toilets. Overall, it seems that humans were in such desperate fear of mortality that they flipped the world on its head, and worst of all, do not even realize it.

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Kurt Vonnegut’s Short Stories Questions and Answers

The Question and Answer section for Kurt Vonnegut’s Short Stories is a great resource to ask questions, find answers, and discuss the novel.

Harrison Bergerson

Evening the playing field and oppressing natural ability allows the government complete control.

This account....

Dr.Hitz makes the case that population control increases human happiness, but the punter sees the mechanism of control as "grim."

What is the conflict of Harris Bergeron?

The conflict is Harrison Bergeron against society. It is largely an external conflict. Harrison is trying to break the chains that literally and figuratively shackle humanity. He goes on television in a seemingly futile attempt to show the beauty...

Study Guide for Kurt Vonnegut’s Short Stories

Kurt Vonnegut's Short Stories study guide contains a biography of author Kurt Vonnegut, literature essays, quiz questions, major themes, characters, and a full summary and analysis of Vonnegut's most famous stories.

  • About Kurt Vonnegut's Short Stories
  • Kurt Vonnegut's Short Stories Summary
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Essays for Kurt Vonnegut’s Short Stories

Kurt Vonnegut's Short Stories essays are academic essays for citation. These papers were written primarily by students and provide critical analysis of various short stories by Kurt Vonnegut.

  • A Close Comparison of "D.P." and "Harrison Bergeron"
  • Contextual Study of Science Fiction Texts, and Intertextual Ideas that Transcend Time: "The Pedestrian," "Harrison Bergeron," and Equilibrium
  • The Dangers of Equality: A Close Reading of "Harrison Bergeron"
  • Live Free or Die: Adapting "Harrison Bergeron" to the Film '2081'
  • The Tension Between the Powerful and the Powerless: Political Manipulation in "All the King's Horses" and 'Wag the Dog'

Lesson Plan for Kurt Vonnegut’s Short Stories

  • About the Author
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  • Introduction to Kurt Vonnegut's Short Stories
  • Relationship to Other Books
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  • Kurt Vonnegut's Short Stories Bibliography

Wikipedia Entries for Kurt Vonnegut’s Short Stories

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2 B R 0 2 B (version 2) & The Big Trip Up Yonder (version 5)

Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (1922 - 2007)

These two stories by Kurt Vonnegut were written over a decade apart but they are definitely connected. The Big Trip Up Yonder, published in Galaxy Science Fiction January 1954 is a comical yet scary description of what over population was going to do to society after aging was conquered and a simple daily dose of "anti-gerosone" would keep you forever the same age. Would Gramps EVER take 'That Big Trip Up Yonder', or would his hordes of descendants be stuck with him forever in a tiny apartment!? 2 B R 0 2 B, published in Worlds of If, January 1962 takes this basic situation many years into the future and a solution has been found. The population of the US has dropped from 80 billion to 40 million. Not what everyone would call a pretty solution, or the best solution, but nevertheless a solution to the population problem. I believe this is the type of story it is best to listen to, not describe, so enjoy. (Summary by Phil Chenevert)

Genre(s): Science Fiction, Short Stories

Language: English

The Involarium Library

More from Kurt Vonnegut

  • Harrison Bergeron
  • 2 B R 0 2 B
  • The Big Trip Up Yonder

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1954 Short Story

Black and white Photo of Author Kurt Vonnegut (1922 - 2007)

The Big Trip Up Yonder is an English Satire , Science Fiction short story by American writer Kurt Vonnegut . It was first published in 1954.

The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut

If it was good enough for your grandfather, forget it … it is much too good for anyone else!

Gramps Ford, his chin resting on his hands, his hands on the crook of his cane, was staring irascibly at the five-foot television screen that dominated the room. On the screen, a news commentator was summarizing the day’s happenings. Every thirty seconds or so, Gramps would jab the floor with his cane-tip and shout, “Hell, we did that a hundred years ago!”

Emerald and Lou, coming in from the balcony, where they had been seeking that 2185 A.D. rarity—privacy—were obliged to take seats in the back row, behind Lou’s father and mother, brother and sister-in-law, son and daughter-in-law, grandson and wife, granddaughter and husband, great-grandson and wife, nephew and wife, grandnephew and wife, great-grandniece and husband, great-grandnephew and wife—and, of course, Gramps, who was in front of everybody. All save Gramps, who was somewhat withered and bent, seemed, by pre-anti-gerasone standards, to be about the same age—somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties. Gramps looked older because he had already reached 70 when anti-gerasone was invented. He had not aged in the 102 years since.

“Meanwhile,” the commentator was saying, “Council Bluffs, Iowa, was still threatened by stark tragedy. But 200 weary rescue workers have refused to give up hope, and continue to dig in an effort to save Elbert Haggedorn, 183, who has been wedged for two days in a …”

“I wish he’d get something more cheerful,” Emerald whispered to Lou.

“Silence!” cried Gramps. “Next one shoots off his big bazoo while the TV’s on is gonna find hisself cut off without a dollar—” his voice suddenly softened and sweetened—”when they wave that checkered flag at the Indianapolis Speedway, and old Gramps gets ready for the Big Trip Up Yonder.”

He sniffed sentimentally, while his heirs concentrated desperately on not making the slightest sound. For them, the poignancy of the prospective Big Trip had been dulled somewhat, through having been mentioned by Gramps about once a day for fifty years.

“Dr. Brainard Keyes Bullard,” continued the commentator, “President of Wyandotte College, said in an address tonight that most of the world’s ills can be traced to the fact that Man’s knowledge of himself has not kept pace with his knowledge of the physical world.”

“ Hell! ” snorted Gramps. “We said that a hundred years ago!”

“In Chicago tonight,” the commentator went on, “a special celebration is taking place in the Chicago Lying-in Hospital. The guest of honor is Lowell W. Hitz, age zero. Hitz, born this morning, is the twenty-five-millionth child to be born in the hospital.” The commentator faded, and was replaced on the screen by young Hitz, who squalled furiously.

“Hell!” whispered Lou to Emerald. “We said that a hundred years ago.”

“I heard that!” shouted Gramps. He snapped off the television set and his petrified descendants stared silently at the screen. “You, there, boy—”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, sir,” said Lou, aged 103.

“Get me my will. You know where it is. You kids all know where it is. Fetch, boy!” Gramps snapped his gnarled fingers sharply.

Lou nodded dully and found himself going down the hall, picking his way over bedding to Gramps’ room, the only private room in the Ford apartment. The other rooms were the bathroom, the living room and the wide windowless hallway, which was originally intended to serve as a dining area, and which had a kitchenette in one end. Six mattresses and four sleeping bags were dispersed in the hallway and living room, and the daybed, in the living room, accommodated the eleventh couple, the favorites of the moment.

On Gramps’ bureau was his will, smeared, dog-eared, perforated and blotched with hundreds of additions, deletions, accusations, conditions, warnings, advice and homely philosophy. The document was, Lou reflected, a fifty-year diary, all jammed onto two sheets—a garbled, illegible log of day after day of strife. This day, Lou would be disinherited for the eleventh time, and it would take him perhaps six months of impeccable behavior to regain the promise of a share in the estate. To say nothing of the daybed in the living room for Em and himself.

“Boy!” called Gramps.

“Coming, sir.” Lou hurried back into the living room and handed Gramps the will.

“Pen!” said Gramps.

He was instantly offered eleven pens, one from each couple.

“Not that leaky thing,” he said, brushing Lou’s pen aside. “Ah, there’s a nice one. Good boy, Willy.” He accepted Willy’s pen. That was the tip they had all been waiting for. Willy, then—Lou’s father—was the new favorite.

Willy, who looked almost as young as Lou, though he was 142, did a poor job of concealing his pleasure. He glanced shyly at the daybed, which would become his, and from which Lou and Emerald would have to move back into the hall, back to the worst spot of all by the bathroom door.

Gramps missed none of the high drama he had authored and he gave his own familiar role everything he had. Frowning and running his finger along each line, as though he were seeing the will for the first time, he read aloud in a deep portentous monotone, like a bass note on a cathedral organ.

“I, Harold D. Ford, residing in Building 257 of Alden Village, New York City, Connecticut, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my last Will and Testament, revoking any and all former wills and codicils by me at any time heretofore made.” He blew his nose importantly and went on, not missing a word, and repeating many for emphasis—repeating in particular his ever-more-elaborate specifications for a funeral.

At the end of these specifications, Gramps was so choked with emotion that Lou thought he might have forgotten why he’d brought out the will in the first place. But Gramps heroically brought his powerful emotions under control and, after erasing for a full minute, began to write and speak at the same time. Lou could have spoken his lines for him, he had heard them so often.

“I have had many heartbreaks ere leaving this vale of tears for a better land,” Gramps said and wrote. “But the deepest hurt of all has been dealt me by—” He looked around the group, trying to remember who the malefactor was.

Everyone looked helpfully at Lou, who held up his hand resignedly.

Gramps nodded, remembering, and completed the sentence—”my great-grandson, Louis J. Ford.”

“Grandson, sir,” said Lou.

“Don’t quibble. You’re in deep enough now, young man,” said Gramps, but he made the change. And, from there, he went without a misstep through the phrasing of the disinheritance, causes for which were disrespectfulness and quibbling.

In the paragraph following, the paragraph that had belonged to everyone in the room at one time or another, Lou’s name was scratched out and Willy’s substituted as heir to the apartment and, the biggest plum of all, the double bed in the private bedroom.

“So!” said Gramps, beaming. He erased the date at the foot of the will and substituted a new one, including the time of day. “Well—time to watch the McGarvey Family.” The McGarvey Family was a television serial that Gramps had been following since he was 60, or for a total of 112 years. “I can’t wait to see what’s going to happen next,” he said.

Lou detached himself from the group and lay down on his bed of pain by the bathroom door. Wishing Em would join him, he wondered where she was.

He dozed for a few moments, until he was disturbed by someone stepping over him to get into the bathroom. A moment later, he heard a faint gurgling sound, as though something were being poured down the washbasin drain. Suddenly, it entered his mind that Em had cracked up, that she was in there doing something drastic about Gramps.

“Em?” he whispered through the panel. There was no reply, and Lou pressed against the door. The worn lock, whose bolt barely engaged its socket, held for a second, then let the door swing inward.

“Morty!” gasped Lou.

Lou’s great-grandnephew, Mortimer, who had just married and brought his wife home to the Ford menage, looked at Lou with consternation and surprise. Morty kicked the door shut, but not before Lou had glimpsed what was in his hand—Gramps’ enormous economy-size bottle of anti-gerasone, which had apparently been half-emptied, and which Morty was refilling with tap water.

A moment later, Morty came out, glared defiantly at Lou and brushed past him wordlessly to rejoin his pretty bride.

Shocked, Lou didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t let Gramps take the mousetrapped anti-gerasone—but, if he warned Gramps about it, Gramps would certainly make life in the apartment, which was merely insufferable now, harrowing.

Lou glanced into the living room and saw that the Fords, Emerald among them, were momentarily at rest, relishing the botches that the McGarveys had made of their lives. Stealthily, he went into the bathroom, locked the door as well as he could and began to pour the contents of Gramps’ bottle down the drain. He was going to refill it with full-strength anti-gerasone from the 22 smaller bottles on the shelf.

The bottle contained a half-gallon, and its neck was small, so it seemed to Lou that the emptying would take forever. And the almost imperceptible smell of anti-gerasone, like Worcestershire sauce, now seemed to Lou, in his nervousness, to be pouring out into the rest of the apartment, through the keyhole and under the door.

The bottle gurgled monotonously. Suddenly, up came the sound of music from the living room and there were murmurs and the scraping of chair-legs on the floor. “Thus ends,” said the television announcer, “the 29,121st chapter in the life of your neighbors and mine, the McGarveys.” Footsteps were coming down the hall. There was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Just a sec,” Lou cheerily called out. Desperately, he shook the big bottle, trying to speed up the flow. His palms slipped on the wet glass, and the heavy bottle smashed on the tile floor.

The door was pushed open, and Gramps, dumbfounded, stared at the incriminating mess.

Lou felt a hideous prickling sensation on his scalp and the back of his neck. He grinned engagingly through his nausea and, for want of anything remotely resembling a thought, waited for Gramps to speak.

“Well, boy,” said Gramps at last, “looks like you’ve got a little tidying up to do.”

And that was all he said. He turned around, elbowed his way through the crowd and locked himself in his bedroom.

The Fords contemplated Lou in incredulous silence a moment longer, and then hurried back to the living room, as though some of his horrible guilt would taint them, too, if they looked too long. Morty stayed behind long enough to give Lou a quizzical, annoyed glance. Then he also went into the living room, leaving only Emerald standing in the doorway.

Tears streamed over her cheeks. “Oh, you poor lamb— please don’t look so awful! It was my fault. I put you up to this with my nagging about Gramps.”

“No,” said Lou, finding his voice, “really you didn’t. Honest, Em, I was just—”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, hon. I’m on your side, no matter what.” She kissed him on one cheek and whispered in his ear, “It wouldn’t have been murder, hon. It wouldn’t have killed him. It wasn’t such a terrible thing to do. It just would have fixed him up so he’d be able to go any time God decided He wanted him.”

“What’s going to happen next, Em?” said Lou hollowly. “What’s he going to do?”

Lou and Emerald stayed fearfully awake almost all night, waiting to see what Gramps was going to do. But not a sound came from the sacred bedroom. Two hours before dawn, they finally dropped off to sleep.

At six o’clock, they arose again, for it was time for their generation to eat breakfast in the kitchenette. No one spoke to them. They had twenty minutes in which to eat, but their reflexes were so dulled by the bad night that they had hardly swallowed two mouthfuls of egg-type processed seaweed before it was time to surrender their places to their son’s generation.

Then, as was the custom for whoever had been most recently disinherited, they began preparing Gramps’ breakfast, which would presently be served to him in bed, on a tray. They tried to be cheerful about it. The toughest part of the job was having to handle the honest-to-God eggs and bacon and oleomargarine, on which Gramps spent so much of the income from his fortune.

“Well,” said Emerald, “I’m not going to get all panicky until I’m sure there’s something to be panicky about.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know what it was I busted,” Lou said hopefully.

“Probably thinks it was your watch crystal,” offered Eddie, their son, who was toying apathetically with his buckwheat-type processed sawdust cakes.

“Don’t get sarcastic with your father,” said Em, “and don’t talk with your mouth full, either.”

“I’d like to see anybody take a mouthful of this stuff and not say something,” complained Eddie, who was 73. He glanced at the clock. “It’s time to take Gramps his breakfast, you know.”

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” said Lou weakly. He shrugged. “Let’s have the tray, Em.”

“We’ll both go.”

Walking slowly, smiling bravely, they found a large semi-circle of long-faced Fords standing around the bedroom door.

Em knocked. “Gramps,” she called brightly, “ break -fast is rea -dy.”

There was no reply and she knocked again, harder.

The door swung open before her fist. In the middle of the room, the soft, deep, wide, canopied bed, the symbol of the sweet by-and-by to every Ford, was empty.

A sense of death, as unfamiliar to the Fords as Zoroastrianism or the causes of the Sepoy Mutiny, stilled every voice, slowed every heart. Awed, the heirs began to search gingerly, under the furniture and behind the drapes, for all that was mortal of Gramps, father of the clan.

But Gramps had left not his Earthly husk but a note, which Lou finally found on the dresser, under a paperweight which was a treasured souvenir from the World’s Fair of 2000. Unsteadily, Lou read it aloud:

“‘Somebody who I have sheltered and protected and taught the best I know how all these years last night turned on me like a mad dog and diluted my anti-gerasone, or tried to. I am no longer a young man. I can no longer bear the crushing burden of life as I once could. So, after last night’s bitter experience, I say good-by. The cares of this world will soon drop away like a cloak of thorns and I shall know peace. By the time you find this, I will be gone.'”

“Gosh,” said Willy brokenly, “he didn’t even get to see how the 5000-mile Speedway Race was going to come out.”

“Or the Solar Series,” Eddie said, with large mournful eyes.

“Or whether Mrs. McGarvey got her eyesight back,” added Morty.

“There’s more,” said Lou, and he began reading aloud again: “‘I, Harold D. Ford, etc., do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my last Will and Testament, revoking any and all former wills and codicils by me at any time heretofore made.'”

“No!” cried Willy. “Not another one!”

“‘I do stipulate,'” read Lou, “‘that all of my property, of whatsoever kind and nature, not be divided, but do devise and bequeath it to be held in common by my issue, without regard for generation, equally, share and share alike.'”

“Issue?” said Emerald.

Lou included the multitude in a sweep of his hand. “It means we all own the whole damn shootin’ match.”

Each eye turned instantly to the bed.

“Share and share alike?” asked Morty.

“Actually,” said Willy, who was the oldest one present, “it’s just like the old system, where the oldest people head up things with their headquarters in here and—”

“I like that !” exclaimed Em. “Lou owns as much of it as you do, and I say it ought to be for the oldest one who’s still working. You can snooze around here all day, waiting for your pension check, while poor Lou stumbles in here after work, all tuckered out, and—”

“How about letting somebody who’s never had any privacy get a little crack at it?” Eddie demanded hotly. “Hell, you old people had plenty of privacy back when you were kids. I was born and raised in the middle of that goddamn barracks in the hall! How about—”

“Yeah?” challenged Morty. “Sure, you’ve all had it pretty tough, and my heart bleeds for you. But try honeymooning in the hall for a real kick.”

“ Silence! ” shouted Willy imperiously. “The next person who opens his mouth spends the next sixth months by the bathroom. Now clear out of my room. I want to think.”

A vase shattered against the wall, inches above his head.

In the next moment, a free-for-all was under way, with each couple battling to eject every other couple from the room. Fighting coalitions formed and dissolved with the lightning changes of the tactical situation. Em and Lou were thrown into the hall, where they organized others in the same situation, and stormed back into the room.

After two hours of struggle, with nothing like a decision in sight, the cops broke in, followed by television cameramen from mobile units.

For the next half-hour, patrol wagons and ambulances hauled away Fords, and then the apartment was still and spacious.

An hour later, films of the last stages of the riot were being televised to 500,000,000 delighted viewers on the Eastern Seaboard.

In the stillness of the three-room Ford apartment on the 76th floor of Building 257, the television set had been left on. Once more the air was filled with the cries and grunts and crashes of the fray, coming harmlessly now from the loudspeaker.

The battle also appeared on the screen of the television set in the police station, where the Fords and their captors watched with professional interest.

Em and Lou, in adjacent four-by-eight cells, were stretched out peacefully on their cots.

“Em,” called Lou through the partition, “you got a washbasin all your own, too?”

“Sure. Washbasin, bed, light—the works. And we thought Gramps’ room was something. How long has this been going on?” She held out her hand. “For the first time in forty years, hon, I haven’t got the shakes—look at me!”

“Cross your fingers,” said Lou. “The lawyer’s going to try to get us a year.”

“Gee!” Em said dreamily. “I wonder what kind of wires you’d have to pull to get put away in solitary?”

“All right, pipe down,” said the turnkey, “or I’ll toss the whole kit and caboodle of you right out. And first one who lets on to anybody outside how good jail is ain’t never getting back in!”

The prisoners instantly fell silent.

The living room of the apartment darkened for a moment as the riot scenes faded on the television screen, and then the face of the announcer appeared, like the Sun coming from behind a cloud. “And now, friends,” he said, “I have a special message from the makers of anti-gerasone, a message for all you folks over 150. Are you hampered socially by wrinkles, by stiffness of joints and discoloration or loss of hair, all because these things came upon you before anti-gerasone was developed? Well, if you are, you need no longer suffer, need no longer feel different and out of things.

“After years of research, medical science has now developed Super -anti-gerasone! In weeks—yes, weeks—you can look, feel and act as young as your great-great-grandchildren! Wouldn’t you pay $5,000 to be indistinguishable from everybody else? Well, you don’t have to. Safe, tested Super -anti-gerasone costs you only a few dollars a day.

“Write now for your free trial carton. Just put your name and address on a dollar postcard, and mail it to ‘ Super ,’ Box 500,000, Schenectady, N. Y. Have you got that? I’ll repeat it. ‘ Super ,’ Box 500,000 …”

Underlining the announcer’s words was the scratching of Gramps’ pen, the one Willy had given him the night before. He had come in, a few minutes earlier, from the Idle Hour Tavern, which commanded a view of Building 257 from across the square of asphalt known as the Alden Village Green. He had called a cleaning woman to come straighten the place up, then had hired the best lawyer in town to get his descendants a conviction, a genius who had never gotten a client less than a year and a day. Gramps had then moved the daybed before the television screen, so that he could watch from a reclining position. It was something he’d dreamed of doing for years.

“Schen- ec -ta-dy,” murmured Gramps. “Got it!” His face had changed remarkably. His facial muscles seemed to have relaxed, revealing kindness and equanimity under what had been taut lines of bad temper. It was almost as though his trial package of Super -anti-gerasone had already arrived. When something amused him on television, he smiled easily, rather than barely managing to lengthen the thin line of his mouth a millimeter.

Life was good. He could hardly wait to see what was going to happen next.

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Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut (1922–2007) was an American author known for his satirical and science fiction novels, including “Slaughterhouse-Five” and “Cat’s Cradle.”

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The Big Trip Up Yonder - Short Story

The Big Trip Up Yonder

By kurt vonnegut and kossin.

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The Big Trip Up Yonder

  • The year is 2158 A.D, where Gramps Ford and his sizeable family are all cooped together in their ramshackle home. The reason the family is so large is the development and widespread distribution of an anti-aging drug when Gramps was 75 years old. It is now 102 years later, and the family is still breeding, with nobody dying off. The solution is to send Gramps on a big trip up yonder by turning off his fountain of youth. Based on a 1955 short story by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. — Bruce
  • The year is 2158 A.D, where Gramps Ford and his sizable family are all cooped together in their ramshackle home. The reason the family is so large is the development and widespread distribution of an anti-aging drug when Gramps was 75 years old. It is now 102 years later, and the family is still breeding, with nobody dying off. The solution is to send Gramps on a big trip up yonder by turning off his fountain of youth. — Anonymous

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  • ASIN ‏ : ‎ B07BX1L363
  • Publisher ‏ : ‎ Endymion Press (April 3, 2018)
  • Publication date ‏ : ‎ April 3, 2018
  • Language ‏ : ‎ English
  • File size ‏ : ‎ 118 KB
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  • Sticky notes ‏ : ‎ On Kindle Scribe
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the big trip yonder

Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut was a writer, lecturer and painter. He was born in Indianapolis in 1922 and studied biochemistry at Cornell University. During WWII, as a prisoner of war in Germany, he witnessed the destruction of Dresden by Allied bombers, an experience which inspired Slaughterhouse Five. First published in 1950, he went on to write fourteen novels, four plays, and three short story collections, in addition to countless works of short fiction and nonfiction. He died in 2007.

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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Big Trip Up Yonder

Title : The Big Trip Up Yonder

Author : Kurt Vonnegut

Illustrator : Sandy Kossin

Release date : October 13, 2009 [eBook #30240] Most recently updated: January 5, 2021

Language : English

Credits : Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

THE BIG TRIP UP YONDER

By kurt vonnegut, jr..

Illustrated by KOSSIN

If it was good enough for your grandfather, forget it ... it is much too good for anyone else!

Gramps Ford , his chin resting on his hands, his hands on the crook of his cane, was staring irascibly at the five-foot television screen that dominated the room. On the screen, a news commentator was summarizing the day's happenings. Every thirty seconds or so, Gramps would jab the floor with his cane-tip and shout, "Hell, we did that a hundred years ago!"

Emerald and Lou, coming in from the balcony, where they had been seeking that 2185 A.D. rarity—privacy—were obliged to take seats in the back row, behind Lou's father and mother, brother and sister-in-law, son and daughter-in-law, grandson and wife, granddaughter and husband, great-grandson and wife, nephew and wife, grandnephew and wife, great-grandniece and husband, great-grandnephew and wife—and, of course, Gramps, who was in front of everybody. All save Gramps, who was somewhat withered and bent, seemed, by pre-anti-gerasone standards, to be about the same age—somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties. Gramps looked older because he had already reached 70 when anti-gerasone was invented. He had not aged in the 102 years since.

"Meanwhile," the commentator was saying, "Council Bluffs, Iowa, was still threatened by stark tragedy. But 200 weary rescue workers have refused to give up hope, and continue to dig in an effort to save Elbert Haggedorn, 183, who has been wedged for two days in a ..."

"I wish he'd get something more cheerful," Emerald whispered to Lou.

"Silence!" cried Gramps. "Next one shoots off his big bazoo while the TV's on is gonna find hisself cut off without a dollar—" his voice suddenly softened and sweetened—"when they wave that checkered flag at the Indianapolis Speedway, and old Gramps gets ready for the Big Trip Up Yonder."

He sniffed sentimentally, while his heirs concentrated desperately on not making the slightest sound. For them, the poignancy of the prospective Big Trip had been dulled somewhat, through having been mentioned by Gramps about once a day for fifty years.

"Dr. Brainard Keyes Bullard," continued the commentator, "President of Wyandotte College, said in an address tonight that most of the world's ills can be traced to the fact that Man's knowledge of himself has not kept pace with his knowledge of the physical world."

" Hell! " snorted Gramps. "We said that a hundred years ago!"

"In Chicago tonight," the commentator went on, "a special celebration is taking place in the Chicago Lying-in Hospital. The guest of honor is Lowell W. Hitz, age zero. Hitz, born this morning, is the twenty-five-millionth child to be born in the hospital." The commentator faded, and was replaced on the screen by young Hitz, who squalled furiously.

"Hell!" whispered Lou to Emerald. "We said that a hundred years ago."

"I heard that!" shouted Gramps. He snapped off the television set and his petrified descendants stared silently at the screen. "You, there, boy—"

"I didn't mean anything by it, sir," said Lou, aged 103.

"Get me my will. You know where it is. You kids all know where it is. Fetch, boy!" Gramps snapped his gnarled fingers sharply.

Lou nodded dully and found himself going down the hall, picking his way over bedding to Gramps' room, the only private room in the Ford apartment. The other rooms were the bathroom, the living room and the wide windowless hallway, which was originally intended to serve as a dining area, and which had a kitchenette in one end. Six mattresses and four sleeping bags were dispersed in the hallway and living room, and the daybed, in the living room, accommodated the eleventh couple, the favorites of the moment.

On Gramps' bureau was his will, smeared, dog-eared, perforated and blotched with hundreds of additions, deletions, accusations, conditions, warnings, advice and homely philosophy. The document was, Lou reflected, a fifty-year diary, all jammed onto two sheets—a garbled, illegible log of day after day of strife. This day, Lou would be disinherited for the eleventh time, and it would take him perhaps six months of impeccable behavior to regain the promise of a share in the estate. To say nothing of the daybed in the living room for Em and himself.

"Boy!" called Gramps.

"Coming, sir." Lou hurried back into the living room and handed Gramps the will.

"Pen!" said Gramps.

He was instantly offered eleven pens, one from each couple.

"Not that leaky thing," he said, brushing Lou's pen aside. "Ah, there's a nice one. Good boy, Willy." He accepted Willy's pen. That was the tip they had all been waiting for. Willy, then—Lou's father—was the new favorite.

Willy, who looked almost as young as Lou, though he was 142, did a poor job of concealing his pleasure. He glanced shyly at the daybed, which would become his, and from which Lou and Emerald would have to move back into the hall, back to the worst spot of all by the bathroom door.

Gramps missed none of the high drama he had authored and he gave his own familiar role everything he had. Frowning and running his finger along each line, as though he were seeing the will for the first time, he read aloud in a deep portentous monotone, like a bass note on a cathedral organ.

the big trip yonder

At the end of these specifications, Gramps was so choked with emotion that Lou thought he might have forgotten why he'd brought out the will in the first place. But Gramps heroically brought his powerful emotions under control and, after erasing for a full minute, began to write and speak at the same time. Lou could have spoken his lines for him, he had heard them so often.

"I have had many heartbreaks ere leaving this vale of tears for a better land," Gramps said and wrote. "But the deepest hurt of all has been dealt me by—" He looked around the group, trying to remember who the malefactor was.

Everyone looked helpfully at Lou, who held up his hand resignedly.

Gramps nodded, remembering, and completed the sentence—"my great-grandson, Louis J. Ford."

"Grandson, sir," said Lou.

"Don't quibble. You're in deep enough now, young man," said Gramps, but he made the change. And, from there, he went without a misstep through the phrasing of the disinheritance, causes for which were disrespectfulness and quibbling.

In the paragraph following, the paragraph that had belonged to everyone in the room at one time or another, Lou's name was scratched out and Willy's substituted as heir to the apartment and, the biggest plum of all, the double bed in the private bedroom.

"So!" said Gramps, beaming. He erased the date at the foot of the will and substituted a new one, including the time of day. "Well—time to watch the McGarvey Family." The McGarvey Family was a television serial that Gramps had been following since he was 60, or for a total of 112 years. "I can't wait to see what's going to happen next," he said.

Lou detached himself from the group and lay down on his bed of pain by the bathroom door. Wishing Em would join him, he wondered where she was.

He dozed for a few moments, until he was disturbed by someone stepping over him to get into the bathroom. A moment later, he heard a faint gurgling sound, as though something were being poured down the washbasin drain. Suddenly, it entered his mind that Em had cracked up, that she was in there doing something drastic about Gramps.

"Em?" he whispered through the panel. There was no reply, and Lou pressed against the door. The worn lock, whose bolt barely engaged its socket, held for a second, then let the door swing inward.

"Morty!" gasped Lou.

Lou's great-grandnephew, Mortimer, who had just married and brought his wife home to the Ford menage, looked at Lou with consternation and surprise. Morty kicked the door shut, but not before Lou had glimpsed what was in his hand—Gramps' enormous economy-size bottle of anti-gerasone, which had apparently been half-emptied, and which Morty was refilling with tap water.

A moment later, Morty came out, glared defiantly at Lou and brushed past him wordlessly to rejoin his pretty bride.

Shocked, Lou didn't know what to do. He couldn't let Gramps take the mousetrapped anti-gerasone—but, if he warned Gramps about it, Gramps would certainly make life in the apartment, which was merely insufferable now, harrowing.

Lou glanced into the living room and saw that the Fords, Emerald among them, were momentarily at rest, relishing the botches that the McGarveys had made of their lives. Stealthily, he went into the bathroom, locked the door as well as he could and began to pour the contents of Gramps' bottle down the drain. He was going to refill it with full-strength anti-gerasone from the 22 smaller bottles on the shelf.

The bottle contained a half-gallon, and its neck was small, so it seemed to Lou that the emptying would take forever. And the almost imperceptible smell of anti-gerasone, like Worcestershire sauce, now seemed to Lou, in his nervousness, to be pouring out into the rest of the apartment, through the keyhole and under the door.

The bottle gurgled monotonously. Suddenly, up came the sound of music from the living room and there were murmurs and the scraping of chair-legs on the floor. "Thus ends," said the television announcer, "the 29,121st chapter in the life of your neighbors and mine, the McGarveys." Footsteps were coming down the hall. There was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Just a sec," Lou cheerily called out. Desperately, he shook the big bottle, trying to speed up the flow. His palms slipped on the wet glass, and the heavy bottle smashed on the tile floor.

The door was pushed open, and Gramps, dumbfounded, stared at the incriminating mess.

Lou felt a hideous prickling sensation on his scalp and the back of his neck. He grinned engagingly through his nausea and, for want of anything remotely resembling a thought, waited for Gramps to speak.

"Well, boy," said Gramps at last, "looks like you've got a little tidying up to do."

And that was all he said. He turned around, elbowed his way through the crowd and locked himself in his bedroom.

The Fords contemplated Lou in incredulous silence a moment longer, and then hurried back to the living room, as though some of his horrible guilt would taint them, too, if they looked too long. Morty stayed behind long enough to give Lou a quizzical, annoyed glance. Then he also went into the living room, leaving only Emerald standing in the doorway.

Tears streamed over her cheeks. "Oh, you poor lamb— please don't look so awful! It was my fault. I put you up to this with my nagging about Gramps."

"No," said Lou, finding his voice, "really you didn't. Honest, Em, I was just—"

"You don't have to explain anything to me, hon. I'm on your side, no matter what." She kissed him on one cheek and whispered in his ear, "It wouldn't have been murder, hon. It wouldn't have killed him. It wasn't such a terrible thing to do. It just would have fixed him up so he'd be able to go any time God decided He wanted him."

"What's going to happen next, Em?" said Lou hollowly. "What's he going to do?"

Lou and Emerald stayed fearfully awake almost all night, waiting to see what Gramps was going to do. But not a sound came from the sacred bedroom. Two hours before dawn, they finally dropped off to sleep.

At six o'clock, they arose again, for it was time for their generation to eat breakfast in the kitchenette. No one spoke to them. They had twenty minutes in which to eat, but their reflexes were so dulled by the bad night that they had hardly swallowed two mouthfuls of egg-type processed seaweed before it was time to surrender their places to their son's generation.

Then, as was the custom for whoever had been most recently disinherited, they began preparing Gramps' breakfast, which would presently be served to him in bed, on a tray. They tried to be cheerful about it. The toughest part of the job was having to handle the honest-to-God eggs and bacon and oleomargarine, on which Gramps spent so much of the income from his fortune.

"Well," said Emerald, "I'm not going to get all panicky until I'm sure there's something to be panicky about."

"Maybe he doesn't know what it was I busted," Lou said hopefully.

"Probably thinks it was your watch crystal," offered Eddie, their son, who was toying apathetically with his buckwheat-type processed sawdust cakes.

"Don't get sarcastic with your father," said Em, "and don't talk with your mouth full, either."

"I'd like to see anybody take a mouthful of this stuff and not say something," complained Eddie, who was 73. He glanced at the clock. "It's time to take Gramps his breakfast, you know."

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" said Lou weakly. He shrugged. "Let's have the tray, Em."

"We'll both go."

Walking slowly, smiling bravely, they found a large semi-circle of long-faced Fords standing around the bedroom door.

Em knocked. "Gramps," she called brightly, " break -fast is rea -dy."

There was no reply and she knocked again, harder.

The door swung open before her fist. In the middle of the room, the soft, deep, wide, canopied bed, the symbol of the sweet by-and-by to every Ford, was empty.

A sense of death, as unfamiliar to the Fords as Zoroastrianism or the causes of the Sepoy Mutiny, stilled every voice, slowed every heart. Awed, the heirs began to search gingerly, under the furniture and behind the drapes, for all that was mortal of Gramps, father of the clan.

But Gramps had left not his Earthly husk but a note, which Lou finally found on the dresser, under a paperweight which was a treasured souvenir from the World's Fair of 2000. Unsteadily, Lou read it aloud:

"'Somebody who I have sheltered and protected and taught the best I know how all these years last night turned on me like a mad dog and diluted my anti-gerasone, or tried to. I am no longer a young man. I can no longer bear the crushing burden of life as I once could. So, after last night's bitter experience, I say good-by. The cares of this world will soon drop away like a cloak of thorns and I shall know peace. By the time you find this, I will be gone.'"

"Gosh," said Willy brokenly, "he didn't even get to see how the 5000-mile Speedway Race was going to come out."

"Or the Solar Series," Eddie said, with large mournful eyes.

"Or whether Mrs. McGarvey got her eyesight back," added Morty.

"There's more," said Lou, and he began reading aloud again: "'I, Harold D. Ford, etc., do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my last Will and Testament, revoking any and all former wills and codicils by me at any time heretofore made.'"

"No!" cried Willy. "Not another one!"

"'I do stipulate,'" read Lou, "'that all of my property, of whatsoever kind and nature, not be divided, but do devise and bequeath it to be held in common by my issue, without regard for generation, equally, share and share alike.'"

"Issue?" said Emerald.

Lou included the multitude in a sweep of his hand. "It means we all own the whole damn shootin' match."

Each eye turned instantly to the bed.

"Share and share alike?" asked Morty.

"Actually," said Willy, who was the oldest one present, "it's just like the old system, where the oldest people head up things with their headquarters in here and—"

"I like that !" exclaimed Em. "Lou owns as much of it as you do, and I say it ought to be for the oldest one who's still working. You can snooze around here all day, waiting for your pension check, while poor Lou stumbles in here after work, all tuckered out, and—"

"How about letting somebody who's never had any privacy get a little crack at it?" Eddie demanded hotly. "Hell, you old people had plenty of privacy back when you were kids. I was born and raised in the middle of that goddamn barracks in the hall! How about—"

"Yeah?" challenged Morty. "Sure, you've all had it pretty tough, and my heart bleeds for you. But try honeymooning in the hall for a real kick."

" Silence! " shouted Willy imperiously. "The next person who opens his mouth spends the next sixth months by the bathroom. Now clear out of my room. I want to think."

A vase shattered against the wall, inches above his head.

In the next moment, a free-for-all was under way, with each couple battling to eject every other couple from the room. Fighting coalitions formed and dissolved with the lightning changes of the tactical situation. Em and Lou were thrown into the hall, where they organized others in the same situation, and stormed back into the room.

After two hours of struggle, with nothing like a decision in sight, the cops broke in, followed by television cameramen from mobile units.

For the next half-hour, patrol wagons and ambulances hauled away Fords, and then the apartment was still and spacious.

An hour later, films of the last stages of the riot were being televised to 500,000,000 delighted viewers on the Eastern Seaboard.

In the stillness of the three-room Ford apartment on the 76th floor of Building 257, the television set had been left on. Once more the air was filled with the cries and grunts and crashes of the fray, coming harmlessly now from the loudspeaker.

The battle also appeared on the screen of the television set in the police station, where the Fords and their captors watched with professional interest.

Em and Lou, in adjacent four-by-eight cells, were stretched out peacefully on their cots.

"Em," called Lou through the partition, "you got a washbasin all your own, too?"

"Sure. Washbasin, bed, light—the works. And we thought Gramps' room was something. How long has this been going on?" She held out her hand. "For the first time in forty years, hon, I haven't got the shakes—look at me!"

"Cross your fingers," said Lou. "The lawyer's going to try to get us a year."

"Gee!" Em said dreamily. "I wonder what kind of wires you'd have to pull to get put away in solitary?"

"All right, pipe down," said the turnkey, "or I'll toss the whole kit and caboodle of you right out. And first one who lets on to anybody outside how good jail is ain't never getting back in!"

The prisoners instantly fell silent.

The living room of the apartment darkened for a moment as the riot scenes faded on the television screen, and then the face of the announcer appeared, like the Sun coming from behind a cloud. "And now, friends," he said, "I have a special message from the makers of anti-gerasone, a message for all you folks over 150. Are you hampered socially by wrinkles, by stiffness of joints and discoloration or loss of hair, all because these things came upon you before anti-gerasone was developed? Well, if you are, you need no longer suffer, need no longer feel different and out of things.

"After years of research, medical science has now developed Super -anti-gerasone! In weeks—yes, weeks—you can look, feel and act as young as your great-great-grandchildren! Wouldn't you pay $5,000 to be indistinguishable from everybody else? Well, you don't have to. Safe, tested Super -anti-gerasone costs you only a few dollars a day.

"Write now for your free trial carton. Just put your name and address on a dollar postcard, and mail it to ' Super ,' Box 500,000, Schenectady, N. Y. Have you got that? I'll repeat it. ' Super ,' Box 500,000 ..."

Underlining the announcer's words was the scratching of Gramps' pen, the one Willy had given him the night before. He had come in, a few minutes earlier, from the Idle Hour Tavern, which commanded a view of Building 257 from across the square of asphalt known as the Alden Village Green. He had called a cleaning woman to come straighten the place up, then had hired the best lawyer in town to get his descendants a conviction, a genius who had never gotten a client less than a year and a day. Gramps had then moved the daybed before the television screen, so that he could watch from a reclining position. It was something he'd dreamed of doing for years.

"Schen- ec -ta-dy," murmured Gramps. "Got it!" His face had changed remarkably. His facial muscles seemed to have relaxed, revealing kindness and equanimity under what had been taut lines of bad temper. It was almost as though his trial package of Super -anti-gerasone had already arrived. When something amused him on television, he smiled easily, rather than barely managing to lengthen the thin line of his mouth a millimeter.

Life was good. He could hardly wait to see what was going to happen next.

—KURT VONNEGUT, JR.

the big trip yonder

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  1. The Big Trip Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

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  2. The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut Jr

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  4. The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut, Complete unabridged audiobook full length videobook

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  5. "The Big Trip Up Yonder" by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. (narrated by Evan Mercer

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  1. Kindergarten

COMMENTS

  1. Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow (short story)

    " Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow " is a short story by Kurt Vonnegut originally written in 1953. It was first published in Galaxy Science Fiction magazine in January 1954, where the story was titled " The Big Trip Up Yonder ", which is the protagonist's euphemism for dying.

  2. The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Big Trip Up Yonder, by Kurt Vonnegut

    THE BIG TRIP UP YONDER By KURT VONNEGUT, JR. Illustrated by KOSSIN If it was good enough for your grandfather, forget it ... it is much too good for anyone else! Gramps Ford, his chin resting on his hands, his hands on the crook of his cane, was staring irascibly at the five-foot television screen that dominated the room.

  3. Kurt Vonnegut's Short Stories "Tomorrow and Tomorrow ...

    Lou Schwartz and his wife Em Schwartz stand on the balcony of their New York apartment, discussing their frustrations with Gramps. The narrator explains the situation. Lou is 112 years old and Em is 93; they and everyone else on Earth have been taking a drug called anti-gerasone that stops the aging process.

  4. The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

    The Big Trip Up Yonder Kurt Vonnegut Jr. 3.64 2,480 ratings147 reviews The story is set in 2158 A.D., after the invention of a medicine called Anti-Gerasone, which is made from mud and dandelions and is thus inexpensive and widely available.

  5. The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut

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  6. The Big Trip Up Yonder : Vonnegut, Kurt, 1922-2007 : Free Download

    The Big Trip Up Yonder by Vonnegut, Kurt, 1922-2007; Kossin, Sanford [Illustrator] Book from Project Gutenberg: The Big Trip Up Yonder Library of Congress Classification: PS

  7. The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

    On the screen, a news commentator was summarizing the day's happenings. Every thirty seconds or so, Gramps would jab the floor with his cane-tip and shout, "Hell, we did that a hundred years ago!". Emerald and Lou, coming in from the balcony, where they had been seeking that 2185 A.D. rarity—privacy—were obliged to take seats in the ...

  8. The Big Trip Up Yonder

    The Big Trip Up Yonder - Kurt Vonnegut - Google Books Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. was an American novelist known for works blending satire, black comedy, and science fiction including...

  9. The Big Trip up Yonder/2BR02B by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

    Kurt Vonnegut's 2 B R 0 2 B is a satiric short story that imagines life (and death) in a future world where aging has been "cured" and population control is mandated and administered by the government.The Big Trip Up Yonder is the story of Gramps Ford, 172 years old in this year 2185 AD, & his large acrimonious clan that shares a 3 room apartment.

  10. The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut, Complete unabridged ...

    The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut, Complete unabridged audiobook full length videobook Read Along Videobooks 1.32K subscribers Subscribe Subscribed 79 8.5K views 10 years ago Literary...

  11. LibriVox

    Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (1922 - 2007) These two stories by Kurt Vonnegut were written over a decade apart but they are definitely connected. The Big Trip Up Yonder, published in Galaxy Science Fiction January 1954 is a comical yet scary description of what over population was going to do to society after aging was conquered and a simple daily dose ...

  12. "The Big Trip Up Yonder" by Kurt Vonnegut

    The Big Trip Up Yonder is an English Satire, Science Fiction short story by American writer Kurt Vonnegut. It was first published in 1954. Liked this Story? Add to Bookmarks Reading Mode Reading Mode START If it was good enough for your grandfather, forget it … it is much too good for anyone else!

  13. The Big Trip Up Yonder Kindle Edition

    So begins Kurt Vonnegut's short story The Big Trip Up Yonder, a tale set in 2158 A.D. Gramps Ford and his rather large family are all cooped together in their rundown home at "Building 257 of Alden Village, New York City, Connecticut," and Gramps is regularly cutting members of his family who misbehave out of his last will and testament.

  14. The Big Trip Up Yonder

    The Big Trip Up Yonder (short story) by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr."The story of Gramps Ford, 172 years old in the year 2185 AD and his sizeable family in their Alden...

  15. The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Science Fiction, Literary

    The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Science Fiction, Literary: Vonnegut, Kurt Jr.: 9781463899592: Amazon.com: Books Books › Literature & Fiction › Humor & Satire Buy new: $15.14 List Price: $19.95 Save: $4.81 (24%) Get Fast, Free Shipping with Amazon Prime FREE Returns

  16. The Big Trip Up Yonder

    The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. This story was published in January 1954 in Galaxy Science Fiction. The illustration is by Kossin. If it was good enough for your grandfather, forget it ... it is much too good for anyone else!

  17. The Big Trip Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

    THE BIG TRIP YONDERWRITTEN BY:Kurt Vonnegut Jr. NARRATED BY:Michael Anthony ScottThe idea of perpetual youth has always been part of human mythos epitomized ...

  18. The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut

    The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut, Kossin, Dec 10, 2009, WP edition, paperback

  19. The Big Trip Up Yonder Kindle Edition

    The Big Trip Up Yonder Kindle Edition by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. (Author) Format: Kindle Edition 4.1 281 ratings See all formats and editions Kindle $0.99 Read with our Free App Audiobook $5.95 $5.95 with discounted Audible membership If it was good enough for your grandfather, forget it ... it is much too good for anyone else! Print length 24 pages

  20. Casual Read of "The Big Trip Up Yonder" By Kurt Vonnegut

    0:00 introduction0:09 Story startsPublished 1954"The Big Trip Up Yonder" was written by Kurt Vonnegut (1992-2007). Vonnegut has written many American classic...

  21. The Big Trip Up Yonder (Short 2014)

    Based on a 1955 short story by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. — Bruce The year is 2158 A.D, where Gramps Ford and his sizable family are all cooped together in their ramshackle home. The reason the family is so large is the development and widespread distribution of an anti-aging drug when Gramps was 75 years old.

  22. The Big Trip Up Yonder Kindle Edition

    The Big Trip Up Yonder Kindle Edition by Kurt Vonnegut (Author) Format: Kindle Edition 4.1 285 ratings See all formats and editions Book Description Editorial Reviews

  23. The Big Trip Up Yonder

    The Big Trip Up Yonder. This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org.