Ham On Rye - Charles Bukowski [81]
Now we stood looking at each other. I left my shirt on. We kept standing. I kept standing.
Newhall finally said, “O.K., I’m going to take you now.” He started to move forward. Just then a little old lady dressed in black came by with many packages. She had on a tiny green felt hat.
“Hello, boys!” she said.
“Hello, ma’am.”
“Lovely day…”
The little old lady opened her car door and loaded in the packages. Then she turned to Jimmy Newhall.
“Oh, what a fine body you have, my boy! I’ll bet you could be Tarzan of the Apes!”
“No, ma’am,” I said. “Pardon me, but he’s the ape and those with him are his tribe.”
“Oh,” she said. She got into her car, started it and we waited as she backed out and drove off.
“O.K., Chinaski,” said Newhall, “all through school you were famous for your sneer and your big god-damned mouth. And now I’m going to put the cure on you!”
Newhall bounded forward. He was ready. I wasn’t quite ready. All I saw was a backdrop of blue sky and a flash of body and fists. He was quicker than an ape, and bigger. I couldn’t seem to throw a punch, I only felt his fists and they were rock hard. Squinting through punched eyes I could see his fists, swinging, landing, my god, he had power, it seemed endless and there was no place to go. I began to think, maybe you are a sissy, maybe you should be, maybe you should quit.
But as he continued to punch, my fear vanished. I felt only astonishment at his strength and energy. Where did he get it? A swine like him? He was loaded. I couldn’t see anymore—my eyes were blinded by flashes of yellow and green light, purple light—then a terrific shot of RED…I felt myself going down.
Is this the way it happens?
I fell to one knee. I heard an airplane passing overhead. I wished I was on it. I felt something run over my mouth and chin…it was warm blood running from my nose.
“Let him go, Jimmy, he’s finished…”
I looked at Newhall. “Your mother sucks cock,” I told him.
“I’LL KILL YOU!”
Newhall rushed me before I could quite get up. He had me by the throat and we rolled over and over, under a Dodge. I heard his head hit something. I didn’t know what it hit but I heard the sound. It happened quite quickly and the others were not as aware of it as I was.
I got up and then Newhall got up.
“I’m going to kill you,” he said.
Newhall windmilled in. This time it wasn’t nearly so bad. He punched with the same fury, but something was missing. He was weaker. When he hit me I didn’t see flashes of color, I could see the sky, the parked cars, the faces of his friends, and him. I had always been a slow starter. Newhall was still trying but he was definitely weaker, And I had my small hands, I was blessed with small hands, lousy weapons.
What a weary time those years were—to have the desire and the need to live but not the ability.
I dug a hard right to his belly and I heard him gasp so I grabbed him behind the neck with my left and dug another right to his belly. Then I pushed him off and cracked him with a one-two, right into that sculpted face. I saw his eyes and it was great. I was bringing something to him that he had never felt before. He was terrified. Terrified because he didn’t know how to handle defeat. I decided to finish him slowly.
Then someone slugged me on the back of the head. It was a good hard shot. I turned and looked.
It was his red-headed friend, Cal Evans.
I yelled, pointing at him. “Stay the fuck away from me! I’ll take all of you one at a time! As soon as I’m done with this guy, you’re next!”
It didn’t take much to finish Jimmy. I even tried some fancy footwork. I jabbed a bit, played around and then I moved in and started punching. He took it pretty good and for a while I thought I couldn’t finish it but all of a sudden he gave me this strange look which said, hey, look, maybe we ought to be buddies and go have a couple of beers together. Then