Pulp - Charles Bukowski [107]
“Yeah?”
“Pooper, what are you doing?”
A chill ran up my back. It was one of my x-wives, Penny. Last I knew, 5 years or so ago, after our divorce, she had vanished off into somewhere with a guy who worked the tables at Vegas, a Sammy.
“Sorry, you have the wrong number, madam.”
“I know your voice, Pooper. How ya doin’?”
She had this nickname for me. Totally groundless.
“Doin’ lousy,” I said.
“You need company.”
“Uh-uh.”
“You never knew what you needed, Pooper.”
“Maybe not but I know what I don’t need.”
“I’m comin’ up.”
“Uh-uh.”
“I’m downstairs, I’m phoning from the hall phone.”
“Where’s Sammy?”
“Who?”
“Sammy.”
“Oh, that…Listen, I’m comin’ up.”
Penny hung up. I felt awful, as if somebody had smeared shit all over me. I drained my drink and made another. Then there was the knock. I opened the door. There was Penny, 5 years older and 30 pounds heavier. She smiled an awful smile.
“Glad to see me?” she asked.
“Come on in,” I said. She followed me into the other room.
“Fix me a drink, Pooper!”
“Yeah…”
“Hey, what’s that?”
“What?”
“That rubber thing. That rubber woman.”
“That’s an inflatable doll.”
“You use it?”
“Not yet.”
“What’s it doing here?”
“I don’t know. Here’s your drink.”
Penny pushed the doll to the floor and sat down with her drink. She took a hit.
“I’ve missed you, Pooper.”
“Missed what?”
“Oh, little things.”
“Like what?”
“Can’t think of them now.”
She gulped her drink, looked over at me, smiled.
“I need some money, Pooper. Sammy skipped out with everything I had.”
“I’m in hock, Penny. Some guy’s going to bust my sack if I don’t pay the interest on a loan.”
I walked out and poured two more drinks, came back.
“Just a little money, Pooper.”
“I don’t have it, for Christ’s sake.”
“I’ll give you some head. Remember, I used to give good head?”
“Look, all I’ve got is $20. Here…”
I dug it out and handed it to her.
“Thanks…”
Penny stuck it into her purse. We sat there, sipping at the drinks.
“We had some good times together,” she said.
“Early,” I said.
“I don’t know,” she said, “I started getting depressed.”
“Listen, we divorced because we couldn’t make it.”
“Yeah,” she said. “You don’t fuck that thing, do you?”
“No, somebody left it here.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. Somebody’s playing games with me.”
“You want some head?”
“No.”
“Can I stay here and drink a while?”
“How long?”
“A couple of hours.”
“All right.”
“Thanks, Pooper.”
When she left she was pretty drunk. I gave her another $20 for a cab. She said it wasn’t far.
After she left I just sat there. Then I picked up the inflatable doll and sat it on the couch next to me. I had a vodka and tonic. It was a quiet evening. A quiet evening in hell. As the earth burned like a rotten log full of termites.
51
You have no idea how fast 25 days can go when you don’t want them to go.
I was sitting in my office when the door pushed open. It was Johnny Temple. He had two new apes with him.
“Acme Executioners,” he said, “we’ve come to collect.”
“I don’t have it, Johnny.”
“You don’t have the 600 bucks?”
“I don’t have 60 bucks.”
Johnny sighed. “We’re gonna have to make an example of you.”
“Like what? You gonna rough me up for a lousy 600 bucks?”
“Not rough you up, Belane, but take you out. All the way.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t matter what you believe,” said one of the apes.
“Yeah, don’t matter,” said the other ape.
“Now wait a minute, Johnny. You say you’re gonna take me out for 600 bucks on a 4 grand loan? A loan I was suckered into and never saw? And you never delivered the Red Sparrow. How about the guys who owe you big money? Why don’t you take them out? Why me?”
“Well, Belane, it’s like this. We take you out for owing a pittance. The word gets out around