Pulp - Charles Bukowski [31]
29
I walked in and took a stool. The barkeep walked up.
“Hi, Eddie,” he said.
“I’m not Eddie,” I told him.
“I’m Eddie,” he said.
“You don’t want to play with me,” I told him.
“No, you do it,” he said.
“Look, barkeep, I’m a peaceful man. Fairly normal. I don’t sniff armpits or wear ladies’ underwear. But everywhere I go, somebody is pushing shots at me, they give me no rest. Why is this?”
“I think you got it comin’, somehow.”
“Well, Eddie, you stop thinking and see if you can fix me a double vodka and tonic, touch of lime.”
“We don’t got no lime.”
“Yeah, you have. I can see it from here.”
“That lime’s not for you.”
“Yeah? Who’s it for? Elizabeth Taylor? Now, if you want to sleep in your own bed tonight, I’ll have that lime. In my drink. Pronto.”
“Yeah? What ya gonna do? You and whose army?”
“One more word out of you, boy, and you’re gonna have a breathing problem.”
He stood there looking at me, deciding whether to call my card or not. He blinked, then sensibly moved off and began working on my drink. I watched him carefully. No tricks. He brought the drink back.
“I was kidding, mister, can’t you take a joke?”
“Depends upon how it’s told.”
Eddie walked off again, stood down at the far end of the bar.
I lifted the drink, slammed it down. Then I pulled out a bill. I took the lime, squeezed it onto the bill. Then I rolled the bill around it, then rolled it down the bar toward the barkeep. It stopped in front of him. He looked down at it. I slowly stood up, did a little neck exercise, turned and walked out. I decided to go back to the office. I had work to do. My eyes were blue and nobody loved me but myself. I walked along humming my favorite bit from “Carmen.”
30
I unlocked the door to my office, swung it open, and there she was: Jeannie Nitro, sitting on my desk, legs crossed, kicking her heels.
“Belane, you pitiful drunk, how ya doing?” she smiled.
She looked great. I could see where Grovers was in trouble. What did it matter if she was a space alien? The way she looked you wanted more of them around. But Grovers was my client. I had to do this one in, off her, move her out of the picture. I never got any rest. I was always on the hustle for somebody.
I swung around my desk, flopped on my chair, tossed my derby onto the hat rack, lit a cigar and sighed. Jeannie just sat on the desk, kicking her legs.
“To answer your question, Jeannie, I’m doin’ all right.”
“I’ve come to make a deal with you, Belane.”
“I’d rather hear a Scarlatti sonata.”
“How long since you had a woman?”
“Who cares?”
“You should.”
“Suppose I don’t?”
“Suppose you do?”
“You offering me your bod, Jeannie?”
“Maybe.”
“What’s the maybe? Either you do or you don’t.”
“The bod is part of the deal.”
“Which is?”
Jeannie popped off the desk and began walking the rug. She looked good walking the rug.
“Belane,” she said while still walking, “I’m the first wave of an invasion force from Space. We are going to take over the earth.”
“Why?”
“I’m from the planet Zaros. We are overpopulated. We need the earth for our excess people.”
“Well, why in the hell don’t you come on in? You look just like humans. Nobody would ever know.”
Jeannie stopped walking and faced me.
“Belane, we don’t look like this. What you are seeing is only a mirage.”
Jeannie came over and sat down on my desk again.
“What do you really look like?” I asked.
“This,” she said.
There was a flash of purple light. I looked down on my desk. There was this thing. It looked like an above average size snake, only it was covered with coarse hair and at its center was a round, moist glob with a single eye. The head had no eyes, only a thin mouth. It was truly a hideous looking thing. I grabbed the telephone, raised it high and brought it down hard. I missed. The thing had slithered to one side. It crawled down along the rug. I ran after it to crush it with my shoe. There was another flash of purple light and then Jeannie stood there again.
“You fool,” she said, “you tried to kill me.