Charles Bukowski - Short Stories Collection Part 6

"it helps mine."

"yeh."

we pa.s.sed the bottle back and forth.

"you like to f.u.c.k women?"

"that's why I'm here."

"how about men?"

"I don't f.u.c.k men."

she pulled at the bottle. she must have taken a good one-quarter of it.

"maybe you'd like it in the a.s.s? maybe you'd like a man to f.u.c.k you in the a.s.s?"

"you're talking crazy now."

she looked straight ahead. there was a little silver Christ on the further wall. she kept looking at the little silver Christ on his cross. he was very pretty.

"maybe you've been hiding it. maybe you want somebody to f.u.c.k you in the a.s.s."

"o.k., have it your way - maybe that's what I really want."

I got the corkscrew and pulled out the top of a new French wine, meanwhile getting a bunch of cork and s.h.i.+t into the wine as I always did. only a waiter in the movies could open a French wine without that trouble.

I took the first good gulp. cork and all. I handed her the bottle. her leg had dropped away. she had a fish-like look on her face. She took a good swallow.

I took the wine back from her. the little splints of cork didn't seem to know where to go in the bottle. I got rid of some of them.

"you want me to f.u.c.k you in the a.s.s?" she asked.

"WHAT?"

"I can DO it!"

she got out of bed and went to the top drawer of the dresser and strapped this belt around her waist and then faced me a"and there, looking at me, was this BIG celluloid c.o.c.k.

"ten inches!" she laughed, pus.h.i.+ng out her belly, jutting the thing toward me, "and it never gets soft and it never wears out!"

"I liked you better the other way."

"you don't believe my big brother is Jaime Bravo the great bullfighter?"

there she was standing there with this celluloid c.o.c.k on, asking me about Jaime Bravo.

"I don't think Bravo could cut it in Spain," I said.

"could you cut it in Spain?"

"h.e.l.l, I can't cut it in Los Angeles. Now please take that ridiculous artificial c.o.c.k off-"

she unhooked the thing and put it back in the top dresser drawer.

I got out of bed and sat in a straight-backed chair, drinking the wine. she found another chair, and there we sat across from each other, naked, pa.s.sing the wine.

"this reminds me somehow of an old Leslie Howard movie, although they wouldn't shoot this part. wasn't Howard in the Somerset Maugham thing? OF HUMAN BONDAGE?"

"I don't know those people."

"that's right. you're too young."

"did you like this Howard, this Maugham?"

"they both had style. plenty of style. but, somehow, with both of them, hours or days or years later, you felt gypped, finally."

"but they had this thing you call *style'?"

"now you're learning."

then I got back into bed. she came on in. I tried it again. I couldn't make it.

"you suck?" I asked.

"sure."

she took it in her mouth and got it out of me.

I gave her another five, dressed, took another drink of wine, and made it down the stairway, across the street to the gas station. the battery was fully-charged. I paid the attendant and then backed on out, hit up 8th ave. a cop on the bike finally gave up and tailed after a j.a.p who made a sudden left turn without blinkers or hand signal on Wils.h.i.+re blvd. they deserved each other.

when I got to my place the woman was asleep and the little girl wanted me to read to her from a book called BABY SUSAN'S CHICKEN. it was terrible. Bobby found a cardboard carton for the chicks to sleep in. he set it in a corner behind the kitchen stove. and Bobby put some of Baby Susan's cereal in a little dish and set it carefully in the carton, so the little chicks could have some dinner, and Baby Susan laughed and clapped her fat little hands.

it turns out later that the 2 other chicks are roosters and Baby Susan is a hen, a hen who lays a most wondrous egg. I'll say. I put the little girl down and went into the bathroom and let the hot water run into the tub. then I got into the tub and thought, the next time I get a dead battery I'll go to a movie. then I stretched out into the hot water and forgot everything. almost.

**THE COPULATING MERMAID OF VENICE, CALIFORNIA**

The bar had closed and they still had to make the walk to therooming house, and there it was a" the hea.r.s.e had driven up across the street where the Stomach Hospital was.

"I think this is THE night," said Tony "I can feel it in my blood, I really can!"

"The night for what?" asked Bill.

"Look," said Tony, "we know their operation well by now. Let's get one! What the f.u.c.k? You got the guts?"

"Whatsa matta? You think I'm coward because that runtysailor whipped my a.s.s?"

"I didn't say that, Bill."

"You're the coward! I can whip you, easy-"

"yeah. I know. I'm not talking about that. I say, let's grab a stiff just for laughs."

"s.h.i.+t! Let's grab TEN stiffs!

"Wait. You're drunk now. Let's wait. We know the operation.We know how they operate. We been watching every night."

"And you're not drunk, eh? You wouldn't have the GUTS otherwise!"

"Quiet now! Watch! Here they come. They've got a stiff. Some poor guy. Look at that sheet pulled over his head. It's sad."

"I am looking. And it is sad-"

"Okay, we know the operation: if it's just one stiff, they toss him in, light their cigarettes and drive off. But if it's two stiffs, they don't bother locking the hea.r.s.e door twice. They're real cool boys. It's just old stuff with them. If it's two stiffs, they just leave the guy on the roller there behind the hea.r.s.e, go in and get the other stiff, then toss them in together. How many nights have we watched it?"

"I dunno," said Bill, "sixty, at least."

"Okay, now there's the one stiff. If they go back for another a" that stiff belongs to us. You game for grabs if they go in for another stifff?"

"I'm game! I got double your guts!"

"okay, then, watch. We'll know in a minute-Oops, there they go! They're going in for another stiff!" said Tony. "You game?"

"Game," said Bill.

They sprinted across the street and grabbed the corpse by the head and feet. Tony had the head, that sad head wrapped so tight in the sheet, while Bill grabbed the feet.

Then they ran across the street, the pure white sheet of the corpse floating in the momentum a" sometimes you could see an ankle, an elbow, a thigh of flesh, and then they ran it up the rooming house front steps, got to the door and Bill said, "Jesus Christ, who's got the key? Look, I'm scared!"

"We don't have much time! Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are gonna be out soon with the other stiff! Throw him in the hammock! Quick! We gotta find a G.o.dd.a.m.ned key!"

They tossed the stiff into the hammock. It rocked back and forth in the hammock under the moonlight.

"Can't we take the body back?" asked Bill. "Good G.o.d oh Mother o Mighty, can't we take the body back?"

"No time! Too late! They'd see us. HEY! WAIT!" yelled Tony. "I found the key!"

"THANK JESUS!"

They unlocked the door, then grabbed the thing on the hammock and ran up the stairway with it. Tony's room was closest. second floor. There was quite a bit of b.u.mping with the corpse along the stairway wall and railing.

Then they had it outside Tony's door and stretched it out while Tony looked for his door key. They got the door open, plopped the stiff on the bed and then went to the refrigerator and got hold of Tony's cheap gallon of muscatel, had half a watergla.s.s full each, then refilled, came back to the bedroom, sat down and looked at the stiff.

"Do you suppose anybody saw us?" asked Bill.

"If they had, I think the cops would be up here by now."

"Do you think they'll search the neighborhood?"

"How can they? How can they go knocking on doors at this time of the morning, asking, *Do you have a dead body?'"

"s.h.i.+t, I guess you're right."

"Sure, I'm right," said Tony, "still, I can't help wondering how those two guys felt when they came back and saw the body gone? It must have been kind of funny."

"Yeah," said Bill, "it musta been."

"Well, funny or not, we've got the stiff. There he is, right on the bed."

They looked at the thing under the sheet, had another drink.

"I wonder when they begin to stiffen up? I wonder when they begin to stink?"

"That rigor mortis takes a bit of time, I think," said Tony.

"But he'll probably begin to stink pretty soon. It's just like garbage left in the sink. I don't think they drain the blood until they reach the mortuary."

So, two drunks, they went on drinking the muscatel; they even forgot at times about the body, and they spoke of those vague and important other things in their rather inarticulate way. Then it was back to the body again.

The body was still there.

"What we gonna do with it?" asked Bill.

"Stand it up in the closet after it stiffens up. It seemed pretty loose when we were carrying it. Probably died about a half and hour ago or so."

"So, okay, we stand it up in the closet. Then what do we do when it starts to stink?"

"I never thought about that part," said Tony.

"Think about it," said Bill, pouring a good one.

Tony tried to think about it. "You know, we might go to jail for this. If we get caught."

"Sure, so?"

"Well, I think we made a mistake, but it's too late."

"Too late," repeated Bill.

"So," said Tony, pouring a tall one, "if we are stuck with this stiff we might as well have a look at him."

"Look at him?"

"Yeah, look at him."

"You got the guts?" asked Bill.