Charles Bukowski - Short Stories Collection Part 23

"I mean, get that s.h.i.+t off you, get you down to a desirable size."

"And what's a desirable size?" I asked.

"You'll see."

Each night when I got home she'd ask me the same questionl "Did you punch your sides today?"

"Oh, h.e.l.l yes!"

"How many times?"

"400 punches on both sides, hard."

I would walk down the streets punching at my sides. People looked at me but it didn't matter after a while because I knew that I was accomplis.h.i.+ng something and they weren't."

Things were working, marvelously. I came down from 225 to 197. Then from 197 to 184. I felt ten years younger. People remarked about how good I looked. Everybody except Harry the truck driver. Of course, he was just jealous because he never got into Sarah's panties. His tough s.h.i.+t.

One night on the scales I was down to 179.

I said to Sarah, "Don't you think we've come down enough? Look at me!" The things on my sides were long gone. My belly hung in. My cheeks looked as if I were sucking them in.

"According to the charts," said Sarah, "according to my charts, you've not yet reached a desirable size."

"Look," I told her, "I'm six feet tall. What is the desireable weight?"

And then Sarah answered me quite strangely.

"I didn't say *desirable weight'," I said, *desireable size'. This is the New Age, the Atomic Age, and most important the Age of Overpopulation. I am the Saviour of the World. I have the answer to the Overpopulation Explosion. Explosion. Let others work on Pollution. Solving Overpopulation is the root; it will solve Pollution and many other things too."

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?" I asked, ripping the cap off a bottle of beer.

"Don't worry about it," she answered, "you'll find out."

Then I began to notice, as I stepped on the scales, that although I was still losing weight I didn't seem to be getting any thinner. It was strange. And then I noticed that my pantscuffs were hanging down over my shoesa"ever so slightly, and that my s.h.i.+rtcuffs were hanging down a bit over my wrists. When I drove to work I notcied that the steering wheel seemed further away. I had to pull the car seat up a notch.

One night I got on the scales.

155.

"Look here, Sarah."

"Yes, darling?"

"There's something I don't understand."

"What?"

"I seem to be shrinking."

"Shrinking?"

"Oh, you fool! That's incredible! How can a man shrink? Do you really think that your diet is s.h.i.+nking your bones? Bones melt! Rduction of calories only reduces fat. Don't be an idiot! Shrinking? Impossible!"

Then she laughed.

"All right," I said, "come here. Here's a pencil. Now I'm gonna stand against this wall. My mother used to do this with me as a kid when I was growing. Now put a line right there on the wall where the pencil hits after you place it straight across the top of my head."

"All right, silly," she said.

She drew the line.

A week later I was down to 131. It was happening faster and faster.

"Come here, Sarah."

"Yes, silly boy."

"Now, draw the line."

She drew the line, I turned around.

"Now see here, I've lost 24 pounds and 8 inches in the last week. I'm melting away! I'm now five feet two. This is madness! Madness! I've had enough. I've caught you cutting my pants legs, my s.h.i.+rt sleeves. It won't work. I'm going to begin eating again. I think that you are some kind of witch!"

It was soon after that the boss called me into the office I climbed into the chair across from his desk.

"Henry Markson Jones II?"

"Of course, sir."

"Well, Jones, we've been watching you carefully. I'm afraid you just don't fit this job anymore. We hate to see you go like thisaI mean , we hate to let you go like this, buta"

"Look, sir, I always do my best."

"We know you do, Jones, but you're just not doing a man's job back there anymore."

He let me go. Of course, I knew that I would get my unemployment compensation.

But I thought it was small of him to let me go like thata I stayed home with Sarah. Which made it worsea"she fed me. It got so I couldn't reach the refrigerator door anymore. And then she put me on a small silver chain.

Soon I was two feet tall. I had to use a potty chair to s.h.i.+t. But she still let me have my beer, as promised.

"Ah, my little pet," she said, "you're so small and cute!"

"I'm not a duck, I'm a man!"

"Oh my little sweet man-y-man!"

She picked me up and kissed me with her red lipsa Sarah got me down to being 6 inches tall. She carried me to the store in her purse. I could look out at the people through the little air holes she had poked in her purse. I will say one thing for the woman. She still allowed me to have my beer. I drank it by the thimble. A quart would last me a month. In the old days it was gone in 45 minutes. I was resigned. I knew that if she wished to do so she could make me vanish entirely. Better 6 inches than nothing. Even a little life becomes very dear when you near the end of life. So, I amused Sarah. It was all I could do. She made me little clothes and shoes and put me on top of the radio and turned on the music and said, "Dance, little one! Dance, my dunce! Dance, my fool!"

Well, I couldn't collect my unemployment compensation so I danced on top of the radio while she clapped her hands and laughed.

You know, spiders frightened me terribly and flies were the size of giant eagles, and if a cat ever caught me it would torture me like a small mouse. But life was still dear to me. I danced and sang and hung on. No matter how little a man has he will find that he will always settle for less. When I s.h.i.+t on the rug I would get spanked. Sarah put little pieces of paper around and I s.h.i.+t on them. And I ripped off little pieces of that paper to wipe my b.u.t.t with. It felt like cardboard. I got hemorrhoids. Couldn't sleep nights. Feelings of inferiority, of being trapped. Paranoia? Anyhow, I felt good when I sang and danced and Sarah let me have my beer. She kept me at an exact six inches for some reason. What the reason was, it was beyond me. As almost everything else was beyond me.

I made up songs for Sarah, that's what I called them: Songs for Sarah: "o, I'm just a little snot, that's all right until I get hot, then there's nothing to stick it in except the f.u.c.king head of a pin!

Sarah would clap her hands and laugh.

"if ya wanna be an admir in the queen's navy just be a clark for the f.u.c.kin' nark, grow 6 inches tall and when the Queen goes to pee you can peek up inter drippin' p.u.s.s.ya"

And Sarah would clap her hands and laugh. Well, that was all right. It had to bea But one night something very disgusting happened. I was singing and dancing and Sarah was on the bed, naked, clapping her hands, drinking wine and laughing. I was putting on a good show. One of my best. But, as always, the top of the radio got hot and started burning my feet. I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Look, baby," I said, "I've had it. Take me down. Gimme a beer. No wine. You drink that cheapa.s.s wine. Gimme a thimble of that good beer."

"Sure, sweetie," she said, "you put on a wonderful show tonight. If Manny and Lincoln had acted as nice as you, they'd be here tonight. But they didn't sing or dance, the brooded. And worst of all, they objected to the Final Act."

"And what was the Final Act?" I asked.

"Now, sweetie, just drink your beer and relax. I want you to enjoy the Final Act. You are evidently a much more talented person than Manny or Lincoln. I do believe that we can have the Culmination of the Opposites."

"O, h.e.l.l yes," I said, draining my beer. "Now give me a refill. And just what is the Culmination of the Opposites?"

"Enjoy your beer, little sweetie, you'll know soon enough."

I finished my beer and then the disgusting thing happened, a most disgusting thing. Sarah picked me up and placed me down between her legs, which she spread open just a bit. Then I was facing a forest of hair. I hardened my back and neck muscles, sensing what was to come. I was jammed into darkness and stench. I heard Sarah moan. Then Sarah began to move me slowly back and forth. As I said, the stench was unbearable, and it was difficult to breathe, but somehow there was air in therea"various side-pockets and drafts of oxygen. Now and then my head, the top of my head b.u.mped The Man in the Boat and then Sarah would let out an extra-illuminated moan.

Sarah began moving me faster and faster. My skin began to burn, it became harder to breathe; the stench became worse. I could hear her panting. It occured to me that the sooner I ended the thing the less I would suffer. Each time I was rammed forward I would arch my back and neck, tilt everything of me into this hooking curve of a thing, b.u.mping The Man in the Boat.

Suddenly I was ripped out of that terrible tunnel. Sarah held me up to her face.

"Come, you d.a.m.ned fiend of a thing! Come!" she demanded.

Sarah was totally drunk on wine and pa.s.sion. I felt myself being rushed back into the tunnel. She worked me rapidly back and forth. Then suddenly I sucked air into my lungs to increase my size and then I gathered saliva intlo my jaws and spit it outa"once, twice, 3 times, 4, 5, six times, then I stoppedaThe stench increased beyond all imagination and then, at last, I was lifted out into the air.

Sarah lifted me into the lamplight and began kissing me all over my head and shoulders.

"O, my darling! o, my precious little c.o.c.k! I love you!"

Then she kissed me with those horrible red and painted lips. I vomited. Then, spent in a swoon of wine and pa.s.sion, she placed me between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I rested there and listened to her heart beat. She had taken me off of her d.a.m.nd leash, that silver chain, but it didn't matter. I was hardly free. One of her ma.s.sive b.r.e.a.s.t.s had fallen to one side and I seemed to be right over the heart. The heart of the witch. If I were the answer to the Population Explosion then why hadn't she used me as more than a thing of entertainment, a s.e.xual toy? I stretched out there and listened to that heart. I decided that she was a witch. Then I glanced up. Do you know what I saw? A most amazing thing. Up in that little crevice below the headboard. A hat pin. Yes, a hat pin, long with one of those round purple gla.s.s things at the end of it. I walked up between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, climbed her throat, got up on her chin(after much trouble), then walked quietly across her lips, and then she stirred a bit as I almost fell and had to grab to a nostril for support. Very slowly I got up by the right eyea" her head was tilted slightly to the lefta"and then I was up on the forehead, having gone past the temple, and I was up into the haira"very difficult, wading through. Then I stood and stretcheda"reached up and just managed to grab the hat pin. Coming down was faster but more treacherous. I almost lost my balance several times, carrying that hat pin. One fall and it was over. I laughed several times because it was so ridiculous. The outcome of an office party for the gang, Merry Christmas.

Then I was down under that ma.s.sive breast again. I laid the hat pin down and listened again. I listened for the exact sound of the heart. I determined it to be at a spot exactly below a small brown birthmark. Then I stood up. I picked up the hat pin with its purple gla.s.s end, beautiful in the lamplight. And I thought, will it work? I was 6 inches tall and I judged the hat pin to be half again longer than 1.9 inches. The heart seemed closer than that.

I lifted the pin and plunged it in. Just below the birthmark.

Sarah rolled and convulsed. I held onto the hat pin. She almost threw me to the floora"which by comparative size seemed a thousand feet or more and would have killed me. I hung on. Her lips formed an odd sound.

Then she seemed to quiver all over like a woman freezing.

I reached up and jammed the remaining 3 inches of the pin down into her chest until the beautiful purple gla.s.s head of the pin was up against her skin.

Then Sarah was still, I listened.

I heard the heart, one two, one two, one two, one two, onea It stopped.

And then with my little killer's hands, I clutched and gripped the bedsheet and made my way to the floor. I was 6 inches tall and real and frightened and hungry. I found a hole in one of the bedroom screens which faced east and ran from ceiling to floor. I grabbed at the branch of a bush, climbed on, clambered along the branch to the inside of the bush. n.o.body knew that Sarah was dead but I. But that had no realistic good. If I were to go on, I would have to have something to eat. But I couldn't help wondering how my case would be evolved in a court of law? Was I guilty? I ripped off a leaf and tried to eat it. No good. Hardly. Then I saw the lady in the court to the south set out a plate of catfood for her cat. I crawled out of the bush and worked my way toward the catfood, watching for animals and movements. It tasted worse than anything I had ever eaten but I had no choice. I ate all the catfood I coulda"death tasted worse. Then I walked over to the bush and climbed back into it.

There I was, 6 inches tall, the answer to The Population Explosionm hanging in a bush with a bellyful of catfood.

There are details I don't want to bore you with. Escapes from cats and dogs and rats. Feeling myself growing bit by bit. Watching them carry Sarah's body out of there. Going in there and finding myself too small, still, to open the refrigerator door.

The day the cat almost caught me as I ate at his bowl. I had to break away.

I was then 8 or 10 inches tall, I was growing. I even scared pigeons. When you scare pigeons you know that you are getting there. I simply ran down the street one day, hiding along the shadows of buildings and down beneath hedges and the like. I kept running and hiding until I got outside a supermarket and I hid under a newspaper stand just outside the entrance to the store. Then, as a big woman walked up and the electric door opened, I walked in behind her. One of the clerks at a checkstand looked up as I walked in behind the woman: "Hey, what the h.e.l.l's that?"

"What?" a customer asked him.

"I thought I saw something," said the clerk, "maybe not. I hope not."

I somehow sneaked back to the storeroom without being seen. I hid behind some cartons of baked beans. That night I came out and had a fine feed. Potato salad, pickles, ham on rye, potato chips and beer, plenty of beer. It became about the same routine. Each day, all day, I hid in the storeroom and at night I'd come out and have a party. But I was growing and hiding was becoming more difficult. I got to watching the manager put the money in the safe each night. He was the last to leave. I counted the pauses as he put the money away each night. It seemed to bea"7 right, 6 left, 4 right, 6 left, 3 right, open. I went over to the safe each night and tried the numbers. I had to make a kind of stairway out of empty cartons in order to get up to the dial. It didn't seem to work but I kept trying. Each night, I mean. Meanwhile I was growing fast. Perhaps I was 3 feet tall. The store had a small clothing section and I had to keep going into the larger sizes. The population problem was returning. Then one night the safe opened. I had 23 thousand dollars in cash. I must have hit them the night before banking time. I took the key the manager used in order to get out without the burglar alarm ringing. Then I walked down the street and got a week's worth of lodging at the Sunset Motel. I told the lady I worked as a midget in the movies. It just seemed to bore her.

"No television or loud noises after ten p. m. That's our rule here."

She took my money, gave me a receipt and closed her door.

They key said room 103. I hadn't even looked at the room. The doors said 98, 99, 100, 101, I was walking north toward the Hollywood Hills, toward those mountains behind them, with the great and golden light of the Lord s.h.i.+ning upon me, growing.

** 25 b.u.mS IN RAGS**

you know how it is with horseplayers. you hit it hot and you think it's all over. I had this place in back, even had my own garden, planted all kinds of tulips, which grew, beautifully and amazingly. I had the green hand. I had the green money. what system I had devised I can no longer remember, but it was working and I wasn't and that's a pleasant enough way to live. and there was Kathy.

Kathy had it. the old guy next door would actually s...o...b..r at the mouth when he saw her. he was always knocking at the door.

"Kathy! oooh, Kathy! Kathy!"

I'd answer the door, just dressed in my shorts.

"ooooh, I thought-"

"I thought Kathy-"

"Kathy's taking a s.h.i.+t. any message?"

"I-bought these bones for your dog."

he had a big bag of dry chicken bones.

"feeding a dog chicken bones is like putting broken razor blades in a child's cereal. you trying to kill my dog, f.u.c.ker?"