Charles Bukowski - Short Stories Collection Part 24

"oh, no!"

"then jam the bones and split."

"I don't understand."

"stick that bag of chickenbones up your a.s.s and get the h.e.l.l out of here!"

"I just thought Kathy-"

"I told you, Kathy's taking a s.h.i.+T!"

I slammed the back door on him.

"you shouldn't be so hard on the old fart, Hank, he says I remind him of his daughter when she was young."

"all right, so he made it with his daughter. let him screw swiss cheese. I don't want him at the door."

"I suppose you think I let him in after you go to the track?"

"I don't even wonder about that."

"what do you wonder about?"

"all I wonder is which one of you rides topside."

"you son of a b.i.t.c.h. you can leave now!"

I was getting on my s.h.i.+rt and pants, then socks and shoes.

I won't be 4 blocks away before you're locked in embrace."

she threw a book at me. I wasn't looking and the edge of the book hit me over the right eye. a cut started and a spot of blood hit my hand as I tied my right shoe.

"I'm sorry, Hank."

"don't get NEAR me!"

I went out and got into the car, backed out the drive at 35 miles an hour, taking part of the hedge with me, then some of the stucco from the front house with my left rear fender. there were blood on my s.h.i.+rt then and I took out my handkerchief and held it over the eye. it was going to be a bad Sat.u.r.day at the track. I was mad.

I bet like the atomic bomb was on the way. I wanted to make ten grand. I bet longshots. I didn't cash a ticket. I lost $500. all I had going to be a terrible Sat.u.r.day night. I parked the car and went in the back door.

"Hank-"

"what?"

"you look like death. what happened?"

"I blew it. I blew the roll. 500."

"jesus. I'm sorry," she said, "it's my fault." she came up to me, put her arms around me. "G.o.d d.a.m.n, I'm sorry, daddy. it was my fault, I know it."

"forget it. you didn't make the bets."

"are you still mad?"

"no, no, I know you're not f.u.c.king that old turkey."

"can I get you something to eat?"

"no, no, just get us a fifth of whiskey and the paper."

I got up and went to the hidden money cache. we were down to $180. well, it had been worse, many times, but I felt that I was on my way back to the factories and the warehouses, if I could get that.

I came out with a ten. the dog still liked me. I pulled his ears. he didn't care how much money I had or how little. a real ace dog.

yeah. I walked out of the bedroom. Kathy was putting on lipstick in front of the mirror. I pinched her on the a.s.s and kissed her behind the ear.

"get me some beer and cigars too. I need to forget."

she left and I listened to her heels clicking on the drive. she was as good a woman as I found and I had found her in a bar. I leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. a b.u.m. I was a b.u.m. always this distaste for work, always trying to live off my luck.

when Kathy came back I told her to pour a big one. she looked funny, and fine. we'd make love. we'd make love through the sadness. I just hated to see it go: car, house, dog, woman. it had been gentle and easy living.

I guess I was shaken because I opened the paper and looked at the WANT ADS.

"hey, Kathy, here's something. men wanted, Sunday. pay same day."

"oh, Hank, rest up tomorrow. you'll get those horses Tuesday.

everything will look better then."

"but s.h.i.+t, baby, every buck counts! they don't run on Sunday.

Caliente, yeah, but you can't beat that 25 percent Caliente take and the distance. I can get good and drunk tonight and then pick up this s.h.i.+t tomorrow. those extra bucks might make the difference."

Kathy looked at me funny. she'd never heard me talk like that before. I always acted like the money would be there. that 500 dollar loss had left me in shock. she phoned me another tall one. I drank it right off. shock, shock, lord, lord, the factories. the wasted days, the days without meaning, the day of bosses and idiots, and the slow and brutal clock.

we drank until two a.m., just like at the bar, then went to bed, mad love, slept. I set the alarm for four a.m., was up and in the car and downtown skidrow at 4:30 a.m. I stood on the corner with about 25 b.u.ms in rags. they stood there rolling cigarettes and drinking wine.

well, it's money, I thought. I'll get back-some day I'll vacation in Paris or Rome. s.h.i.+t on these guys. I don't belong here.

then something said to me, that's what they're ALL thinking I don't belong here. each one of THEM is thinking that about HIMSELF. and they're right, so?

the truck came along about 5:10a.m. and we climbed in.

G.o.d, I could be sleeping along behind Kathy's fine a.s.s about now. but it's money.

guys were talking about just getting off the boxcar. they stank, poor fellows. but they didn't seem miserable. I was the only one who was miserable.

I would be getting up about now, taking a p.i.s.s. I would be having a beer in the kitchen, looking for the sun, seeing it get lighter, peeking at my tulips. then going back to bed with Kathy.

the guy next to me said, "hey, buddy!"

"yeah," I said.

"I'm a Frenchman," he said.

I didn't answer.

"can you use a b.l.o.w.j.o.b?"

"no," I said.

"I saw one guy blowing another in the alley this morning. this one guy had this LONG THIN white d.i.c.k and the other guy was still sucking and the come was dripping out of his mouth. I watched and watched and G.o.d I'm hot as h.e.l.l. let me suck your d.i.c.k, buddy!"

"no," I told him, "I don't feel like it right now."

"well, if I can't do that, maybe you can suck mine."

"get the h.e.l.l out of here!" I told him.

the Frenchman moved further back into the truck. by the time we'd gone another mile his head was bobbing. he was doing it righ in front of everybody, to some old guy who looked like an Indian.

"GO, BABY, GET IT ALL!!!" somebody shouted.

some of the b.u.ms laughed but most of them were just silent, drinking their wine and rolling their cigarettes. the old Indian acted like it wasn't even happening. by the time we got to Vermont the Frenchman had got it all and we all climbed out, the Frenchman, the Indian, myself and the other b.u.ms. they gave us each a little tab of doughnut and a coffee. the waitress held her nose up. we stank. dirty c.o.c.ksuckers.

then somebody finally hollered, "everybody out!"

I followed them out and we went into a big room and sat in these chairs like they used to have in school, or college rather, say like in Music Appreciation. with the big slab of wood for the right arm so you could open your notebook and write on it there. anyhow, so there we sat for another 45 minutes. then some snot kid with a can of beer in his hand, said, "o.k., get your SACKS!"

the b.u.ms all leaped up at ONCE and RAN to this large back room. what the h.e.l.l? I thought. I slowly walked on back and looked in the other room. the b.u.ms were in there pus.h.i.+ng and fighting for the best paper carriers. it was deadly and senseless battle. when the sack I found on the floor. it was very dirty and full of rips and holes.

when I walked out into the other room the b.u.ms all had their paper carriers on their backs, wearing them. I found a seat and just sat there with mine in my lap. somewhere along the line I think they had gotten our names; I think it was before you get your coffee and doughnut tab you gave your name. so we sat there and were called out in groups of 5 or 6 or 7. this took, it seemed, another hour.

anyhow, by the time I got into the back of this smaller truck with a few others, the sun was well up. they gave us such a little map.I recognized the streets all right: G.o.d OH MIGHTY, OUT OF THE WHOLE TOWN OF LOS ANGELES THEY HAD GIVEN ME MY.

OWN NEIGHBORHOOD!.

I had the rep as drinker, gambler, hustler, man of leisure shack-job specialist. how could I be SEEN with that filthy dirty sack on my back? delivering newspapers full of ads?

they put me out on my corner. very familiar surroundings, indeed. there was the flowershop, there was the bar, the gas station, everything-.around the corner my little house with Kathy sleepin her warm bed. even the dog was asleep. well, it's Sunday morning, I thought. n.o.body will see me. they sleep late. I'll run through the G.o.d d.a.m.ned route. and I did.

I ran up and down 2 streets very quickly and n.o.body saw the great man of cla.s.s and soft white hands and great soulful eyes. I was going to get by with it.

then up the 3rd street. it was going well until I heard the voice of a little girl. she was in her yard. about 4 years old.

"hey, mister!"

"oh, yes? little girl? what is it?"

"where's your dog?"

"oh, haha, he's still asleep."

"oh."

I always walked the dog up that street. there was a vacant lot there he always s.h.i.+t in. that did it. I took all my remaining newspapers and dumped them into the back of an abandoned car near the freeway. the car had been there for months with all the wheels gone.

I didn't know what it meant. but I put all the newspapers on the rear floor. then I walked around the corner and went inot my house.

Kathy was still asleep. I awakened her.

"Kathy! Kathy!"

"oh, Hank-everything all right?"

the dog ran on in and I petted him.

"you know what those sons of b.i.t.c.hes DID?"

"what?"

"they gave me my own neighborhood to deliver papers in!"

"oh, well, it's not nice but I don't think the people will mind."

"don't you understand? I've built this REP! I'm the hustler! I can't be seen with a bag of s.h.i.+t on my back!"

"oh, I don't think you have that REP! it's just in your head."

"listen, are you going to give me a lot of s.h.i.+t? you've had your a.s.s in this warm bed while I've been out there with a lot of c.o.c.ksuckers!"

"don't be angry. I've got to pee. wait a minute."

I waited out there while she took her sleepy female p.i.s.s. G.o.d, they were SLOW! the c.u.n.t was a very inefficient p.i.s.sing machine.

d.i.c.k had it all beat.

Kathy came out.

"please don't worry, Hank. I'll put on an old dress and help you deliver the papers. we'll finish fast. people sleep late on Sundays."

"but I've already been SEEN!"

"you've already been seen? who saw you?"

"that little girl in the brown house with the weeds on Westa"