Charles Bukowski - Short Stories Collection Part 17

"is this guy a f.a.g? he looks like a f.a.g, sure as h.e.l.l."

"I don't' THINK he is. he might be. he can sure ball a broad, though."

"you want me to run him in?" he asked Vicki.

I had my eyes closed. it was a long wait. G.o.d, it was a long wait. that big foot there on my sheets. the electric light s.h.i.+ning down.

then she spoke. finally. "no, he's-.o.k. leave him there."

the cop took his foot down. I heard him walk across the room, then wait at the door. he spoke to Vicki: "I'm going to have to charge you 5 bucks more for your protection next month. you're getting a bit harder to watch out for."

then he was gone. I mean, out into the hall. I waited for him to get into the elevator. I heard it go down to the first floor. I counted to 64. then, I LEAPED OUT OF BED.

my nostrils were flaring like Gregory Peck in heat.

"YOU ROTTEN b.i.t.c.h. YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN AND I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

"NO, NO, NO!!!"

I raised my hand to give her the old backhand.

"I TOLD HIM NOT TO TAKE YOU!" she screamed at me.

"ummm. that's right. I've got to consider that."

I lowered my hand.

then there was some whiskey left and some wine too. I got up and put the chain on the door.

we turned off the lights and sat there and drank and smoked and talked about things. this, and that, easy and casual, then, like old times, we looked at the same red horse that flew and flew in red neon on the side of a building just downtown to our east. it flew and flew on the side of this building all night. no matter what happened.

you know what it was, a kind of red horse with red wings of neon.

but I told you that. a winged horse. anyhow, like always, we counted: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. the wings always flapped 7 times. then the horse, everything, stood still, then, it started again.

our whole apartment would be in this red glow. then when the horse stopped flying, somehow things would get white for a flash. I don't know why. I think that it was caused by an advertis.e.m.e.nt beneath the red winged horse. it said, some kind of product, buy this or buy that, in this WHITE. anyhow.

we sat and talked and drank and smoked.

later we went to bed together. she kissed very nicely, her tongue was kind of an apologetic sadness.

then we f.u.c.ked. we f.u.c.ked as the red horse flew.

7 times the wings flapped.. and in the center of the rug the 3 chickens were still there. watching. the chickens turned red, the chickens turned white. 14 times they turned red. then they turned white. 21 times they turned red. then they turned white. 28 timesa"

it had ended a better night than most.

3women we lived right across from McArthur park, Linda and I, and one night while drinking we saw a man's body fall past our window.

it was an odd sight, something like a joke, but it wasn't any joke when his body hit the pavement. "jesus christ," I told Linda, "he plopped right apart like an old tomato! we are just made of guts and s.h.i.+t and slimy stuff!come *ere! come *ere! look at *im!" Linda came to the window, then ran to the bathroom and vomited. she came out. I turned and looked at her. "honest ta christ, baby, he's just like a big spilled bowl of rotten meat and spaghetti, dressed in a ripped suit and s.h.i.+rt!" Linda ran back in and heaved again.

I sat and drank the wine. soon I heard the siren. what they really needed was the Sanitation Dept. well, what the f.u.c.k, we all had our troubles. I never knew where our rent was coming from and we were too sick from drinking to look for work. everytime we worried, all we could do about our worries was to f.u.c.k. that made us forget for a while. we f.u.c.ked a lot, and lucky for me, Linda was a good lay.that whole hotel was full of people like us, drinking wine and f.u.c.king and not knowing what next.now and then one of them jumped out of the window.but the money always seemed to arrive for us from somewhere, just when all seemed like we'd have to eat our own s.h.i.+t, once $300 from a dead uncle, another time, a delayed, income tax refund. another time I was riding on a bus and on the seat in front of me where these 50 cent pieces. what it meant or who had done it, I didn't know, still don't understand. I moved one seat up and began stuffing the half bucks into my pockets. when the pockets got full, I pulled the cord and got off at the next stop.

n.o.body said anything or tried to stop me. I mean, when you're drunk, you've got to be lucky, even if you're not one, you've got to be lucky.

part of each day we would spend in the park looking at the ducks. you've got to believe me, that when your health is down from continual drinking and lack of decent food, and you're tired of f.u.c.king while trying to forget, you can't beat the ducks. I mean, you've got to get out of your place, because you can get the deep blue blues and it soon might be you out the window. it is easier to do than you might imagine. so Linda and I would sit on a bench and watch the ducks. the ducks didn't worry worth a d.a.m.n - no rent, no clothes, plenty of food - just float around s.h.i.+tting and quacking.

n.o.bbling, nibbling, eating all the time. once in a while one of those from the hotel would catch a duck at night, kill the thing, take it to their room, clean it and cook it. we thought about it but never did it. besides they were very hard to catch; you just get so close and SLUUUs.h.!.+ a spray of water and the motherf.u.c.kers would be gone!

most of the time we ate small pancakes made of flour and water, or now and then we would steal some corn from somebody's garden - one guy specialized in a corn garden - I don't believe he got to eat a one of them, then there was always a bit of stealing from an outdoor market - I mean there was a vegetable stand in front of a grocery - store - this meant an occasional tomato or two or a small cuc.u.mber, but we were petty thieves, small time, and we needed mostly luck.

the cigarettes were easiest - a walk at night - somebody always left a car window down and a pack or half-pack of smokes on the dashboard. of course, the wine and the rent were the real problems and we f.u.c.ked and worried about it.

and like all the days of final desperation, ours arrived. no more wine, no more luck, no more anything. no more credit with the landlady or the liquor store. I decided to set the alarm clock for 5:30 a. m. and walk down to the Farm Labor Market, but even the clock didn't work right. it had broken and I had opened it to repair it. it was a broken spring and the only way I could get the spring to work again was to break a portion of it off, hook it up again, lock up the works and wind it up. now if you want to know what a short spring does to an alarm clock or I guess any kind of clock, I'll tell you. the shorter the spring is, the faster the minute and hour hands go around. it was some crazy clock, I'll tell you, and when we were worn out with f.u.c.king to stop from worrying we used to watch that clock and try to tell what time it really was. you could see that minute hand moving - we used to laugh at it.

then one day - it took us a week to figure it - we found that the clock moved thirty hours for each actual twelve hours of time also it had to be wound every 7 or 8 hours or it would stop. sometimes we'd wake up and look at the clock and wonder what time it was. "well, s.h.i.+t, baby," I'd say, "can't you figure out the thing? the clock moves 2 and one half times as fast as it should. it's simple."

"yeah, but what time did it say when we last set the clock?"

she'd ask.

"d.a.m.ned if I know, baby, I was drunk."

"well, you better wind it or it'll stop."

"o.k."

I'd wind it, then we'd f.u.c.k.

so the morning I decided to go to the Farm Labor Market I couldn't set the clock. we got hold of a bottle of wine from somewhere and drank it slowly. I watched that clock, not knowing what it meant, and being afraid of missing the early morning, I just lay in bed and didn't sleep all night. then I got up, dressed and walked around waiting. there were quite a few tomatoes lying in the windows and I picked up two or 3 of them and ate them. there was a large blackboard: COTTENPICKERS NEEDED FOR BAKERSa"

FIELD. FOOD AND LODGING. what the h.e.l.l was that? cotton in Bakersfield, Calif? I thought Eli Whitney and the cotton gin had put all that out of the way. then a big truck drove up and it turned out they needed tomato-pickers. well, s.h.i.+t, I hated to leave Linda in that bed all alone like that. she could never stay in bed too long alone by herself like that. but I decided to try it. everybody started climbing into the truck. I waited and made sure that all the ladies were on board, and there were some big ones. everybody was in, and then I started to crawl up. a large Mexican, evidently the foreman, started putting in the tailgates - "sorry, senor, full up!" they drove off without me.

it was almost 9 p.m. by then and the walk back to the hotel took an hour. I pa.s.sed all the well-dressed stupid-looking people and was almost run over once by an angry man in a black Caddy. I don't know what he was angry about. maybe the weather. it was a hot day. when I got back to the hotel I had to walk up the stairway because the elevator was right by the landlady's door and she was always f.u.c.king with the elevator, s.h.i.+ning the bra.s.s, or just plain-a.s.s snooping.

it was 6 floors up and when I got there, I heard laughing from my room. that b.i.t.c.h Linda hadn't waited too long to get started.

well, I'd whip her a.s.s and his too. I opened the door.

it was Linda and Jeanie and Eve. "Sweetie!" said Linda, she came up to me. she was all dressed in highheels. she gave me a lot of tongue when she kissed. "Jeanie just got her first unemployment check and Eve is on the dole! we're celebrating!"

there was plenty of port wine. I went in and took a bath and then came out in my shorts. I always like to show off my legs. I had the biggest most powerful legs I had ever seen on any man. the rest of me wasn't too much. I sat in my torn shorts and put my legs up on the coffee table.

"s.h.i.+t! look at those legs!" said Jeanie.

"yeah, yeah," said Eve.

Linda smiled. I was poured a wine.

you know how such things go. we drank and talked, talked and drank. the girls went out for more bottles. more talk. the clock went round and round. soon it was dark. I was drinking alone, still in my torn shorts. Jeanie had gone to the bedroom and pa.s.sed out in the bed. Eve had pa.s.sed out on the couch and Linda had pa.s.sed out on a smaller leather couch in the hall that led to the bathroom. I still couldn't understand that Mexican closing those tailgates on me. I was unhappy.

I went into the bedroom and got into bed with Jeanie. she was a large woman, and naked. I began kissing on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, sucking at them. "hey, what you doing?"

"doin? I'm going to f.u.c.k you!"

I put my finger into her c.u.n.t and moved it back and forth.

"I'm going to f.u.c.k you!"

"no! Linda would kill me!"

"she'll never know!"

I mounted and then very SLOWLY SLOWLY QUIETLY so the springs wound not rattle, so there would not be a sound. I slid it in and out in and out EVER SO SLOWLY and when I came I thought I would never stop. it was one of the best f.u.c.ks of my life.

as I wiped off on the sheets the thought occurred to me - it could be that Man has been f.u.c.king improperly for centuries.

then I went, sat down in the dark, drank some more. I don't remember how long I sat there. I drank quite a bit. then I went over to Eve. Eve of the dole. she was a fat thing, a little wrinkled, but had very s.e.xy lips, obscene s.e.xy ugly lips. I began kissing that terrible and beautiful mouth. she didn't protest at all. she opened her legs and I entered. she was a little female pig, farting and grunting and sniffling, wiggling, when I came it wasn't like with Jeanie - long and trembling - it was just splot splot and then over. I got off. and before I could get back to my chair I could hear her snoring again.

amazing - she f.u.c.ked like she breathed - nothing to it. each woman f.u.c.ked just a bit differently, and that's what kept a man going, that's what kept a man trapped.

I sat and drank some more thinking of what that dirty son of a b.i.t.c.h in control of the tailgqate had done to me. it didn't pay to be polite. then I began to think about the dole. could an unmarried man and woman get on the dole? of course not. they were supposed to starve to death. and love was a kind of dirty word. but that was something of what it was between Linda and I - love. that's why we starved together, drank together, lived together. what did marriage mean? marriage meant a sanctified f.u.c.k and a sanctified f.u.c.k that's what the world wanted: some poor son of a b.i.t.c.h, trapped and unhappy, with a job to do. well, s.h.i.+t, I'd move down to skidrow and move Linda in with Big Eddie. Big Eddie was an idiot but at least he'd buy her some clothes and put some steaks in her belly which was more than I was able to do.

Elephant Legs Bukowski, the social failure.

I finished off the bottle and decided I needed some sleep. I wound up the alarm clock and crawled in with Linda. she awakened and began rubbing up against me. "oh s.h.i.+t, oh s.h.i.+t," she said, "I don't know what's the matter with me!"

"whatza matta, baby? you sick?you want me to call the GenEral Hospital?"

"oh no, s.h.i.+t, I'm just HOT! HOT! I'M SO HOT!"

"what?"

"I said, I'm burning up hot! f.u.c.k ME!"

"Linda-"

"what? what?"

"I'm so tired. no sleep for two nights. that long walk to the Labor Market and back, 32 blocks in the hot sun-useless. no job.

f.u.c.king-a.s.s tired."

"I'll HELP you!"

"whatcha mean?"

she crawled halfway down the couch and began licking at my p.e.n.i.s. I groaned in wearinesss. "honey, 32 blocks in the hot suna"

I'm burned out."

she kept working. she had a sandpaper tongue and knew what to do with it.

"honey," I told her, "I'm a social zero! I don't deserve you!

please relent!"

like I say, she was good. some can, some can't. most just know the old-time headbob. Linda began with the p.e.n.i.s, lift off, went to the b.a.l.l.s, then off the b.a.l.l.s, back to the p.e.n.i.s again, barberpole, a wonderful amount of energy. ALWAYS LEAVING THE HEAD OF THE c.o.c.k, ITSELF, UNTOUCHED. finally, she had me moaning to the ceiling telling her all various sorts of lies about what I would do for her when I finally got my a.s.s straightened out and stopped being a b.u.m.

then she came and took the head, put her mouth about a third of the way down, gave this little nip-suck of tooth pressure on, the wolf-nip and I came AGAIN - which made four times that night and I was completely done. some women know more than medical science.

when I awakened they were all up and dressed - looking good - Linda, Jeanie and Eve. they poked at me under the covers, laughing. "hey, Hank, we're going down to look for a live one! and we need an eye opener! we'll be down at Tommi-Hi's!"

"o.k., o.k., goodbye!"

they all left, wiggling out the door.

all Mankind was doomed forever.

I was just about asleep when the extension phone rang.

"yeah?"

Mr. Bukowski?"

"yeah?"

"I saw those women! they came from your room!"

"how do you know? you have 8 floors and about ten or twelve rooms to a floor."

"I know all my roomers, Mr. Bukowski! we have all respectable working people here!"

"yeah?"

"yes, Mr. Bukowski. I've been running this place for twenty years and never, never have I seen such goings on as at your place!

we've always had respectable people here, Mr. Bukowski."

"yes, they're so respectable that every two weeks some son of a b.i.t.c.h climbs up onto the roof and takes a header straight into your cement entranceway between those phony potted plants."

"you've got until noon to get out, Mr. Bukowski!"

"what time is it now?"

"8 a.m."