Charles Bukowski - Tales of Ordinary Madness

A .45 TO PAY THE RENT

Duke had this daughter, Lala, they named her, she was 4. it was his first child and he had always been careful not to have children, fearing that they would murder him somehow, but now he was insane and she delighted him, she knew everything that Duke was thinking, there was that line that ran from her to him, from him to her.

Duke was in the supermarket with Lala and they talked back and forth, saying things. they talked about everything and she told him everything she knew and she knew very much, instinctively, and Duke didnt know very much but he told her what he could, and it worked. they were happy together.

whats that? she asked.

thats a coconut.

whats inside?

milk and chewy stuff.

whys it in there?

because it feels good in there, all that milk and chewy stuff, it feels good inside of that shell. it says to itself, oh my, I feel so good in here!

why does it feel good in there?

because anything would. I would.

no you wouldnt. you wouldnt be able to drive your car from inside of there, you wouldnt be able to see me from inside of there. you wouldnt be able to eat bacon and eggs from inside of there.

bacon and eggs arent everything.

what is everything?

I dunno. maybe the inside of the sun, frozen solid.

the INSIDE of the SUN ...? FROZEN SOLID?

yep.

what would the inside of the sun be like if it were frozen solid?

well, the suns supposed to be this ball of fire. and I dont think the scientists would agree with me, but I think it would be like this.

Duke picked up an avocado.

wow!

yeah, thats what an avocado is: frozen sun. we eat the sun and then we walk around feeling warm.

is the sun in all that beer you drink?

yes, it is.

is the sun inside of me?

more than anybody I have ever known.

and I think you got a great BIG SUN inside of you!

thank you, my love.

they walked around and finished their shopping. Duke didnt select anything. Lala filled the basket with whatever she wished. some of it you couldnt eat: balloons, crayons, a toy gun. a spaceman with a parachute that flipped out of his back when you shot him into the sky. hell of a spaceman.

Lala didnt like the woman cashier. she gave a most serious frown to the cashier. poor woman: her face had been scooped out and emptied she was a horror show and didnt even know it.

hello little sweetie! the cashier said. Lala didnt answer. Duke didnt prompt her to. they paid their money and walked to the car.

they take our money, said Lala.

yes.

and then you have to go to work at night and make more money. I dont like you going away at night. I want to play mama. I want to be mama and you be the baby.

o.k., Ill be the baby right now. hows that, mama?

o.k., baby, can you drive the car?

I can try.

then they were in the car, driving. some son of a bitch hit his throttle and tried to ram them as they made a left turn.

baby, why do people try to hit us with their cars?

well, mama, its because they are unhappy and unhappy people like to hurt things.

arent there any happy people?

there are many people who pretend that they are happy.

why?

because they are ashamed and frightened and dont have the guts to admit it.

are you frightened?

I only have the guts to admit it to you Im so god damned scared, mama, that I think Im going to die any minute.

baby, do you want your bottle?

yes, mama, but lets wait until we get home.

they drove along, turned right on Normandie. it was harder for them to hit you when you were turning right.

you are going to work tonight, baby?

yes.

why do you work nights?

its darker. people cant see me.

why dont you want people to see you?

because if they do I might get caught and put in jail.

whats jail?

everythings jail.

IM not jail!

they parked and took the groceries inside.

mama! Lala said, we got groceries! frozen suns, spacemen, everything!

mama (they called her Mag), mama said, thats fine.

then to Duke: damn it, I wish you didnt have to go out tonight. Ive got that feeling. dont do it, Duke.

youve got that feeling? honey, I get that feeling everytime. its part of the thing. Ive got to do it. were tapped out. the kid threw everything into that basket from canned ham to caviar.

well, Christ, cant you control the kid?

I want her to be happy.

she wont be happy with you in stir.

look, Mag, in my profession youve just got to figure on doing a certain amount of time. you dont sweat it. thats all there is to it. Ive done a bit of time. Ive been luckier than most.

how about some kind of honest job?

babe, it beats working a punch-press. and there arent any honest jobs. you die one way or the other. And Im already along my little road Im some kind of dentist, say, pulling teeth out of society. its all I know how to do. its too late. and you know how they treat ex-cons. you know what they do to you, Ive told you, Ive ...

I know what youve told me, but ...

but but butt butttt! said Duke, god damn you, let me finish!

finish then.

these industrial cocksuckers of slaves who live in Beverly Hills and Malibu. these guys specialize in rehabilitating cons, ex-cons. it makes that shit parole smell like roses. its a hype. slave labor. the parole boards know it, they know it, we know it. save money for the state, make money for somebody else. shit. all shit. everything. make you work triple the average man while they rob everybody within the law sell them crap for ten or twenty times its actual value. but its within the law, their law ...

god damn, Ive heard this so many times ...

and god damn if youre not going to hear it AGAIN! you think I cant see or feel anything? you think I should keep quiet? even to my own wife? you are my wife, arent you? dont we fuck? dont we live together, dont we?

youre the one who fucked up. now youre crying.

fuck YOU! I made a mistake, a technical error! I was young; I didnt understand their chickenshit rules ...

and now youre trying to justify your idiocy!

hey, thats good! I LIKE that. little wifey. you cunt. you cunt. youre nothing but a cunt on the whitehouse steps, wide open, and mentally siffed ...

the kids listening, Duke.

good. and Ill finish. you cunt. REHABILITATE. thats the word, those Beverly Hills soul-cocksuckers. theyre so god damned decent and HUMANE. their wives listen to Mahler at the Music Center and donate to charity, tax-free. and are elected the ten best women of the year by the L.A. Times. and you know what their HUSBANDS do to you? cuss you like a dog down at their crooked plant. cut your paycheck, pocket the difference, and no questions answered. everythings such shit, cant anybody see it? cant anybody SEE it?

I ...

SHUT UP! Mahler, Beethoven, STRAVINSKY! make you work overtime for nothing. kick your whipped ass all hells time. and ONE word out of you, theyre on the phone to the parole officer: Sorry, Jensen, but Ive got to tell you, your man stole 25 dollars from the till. wed just gotten to like him too.

so what kind of justice do you want? Jesus, Duke, I dont know what to do. you rant and you rant. you get drunk and tell me that Dillinger was the greatest man who ever lived. you rock back in your rocker, all drunk, and scream Dillinger. Im alive too. listen to me ...

fuck Dillinger! hes dead. justice? there aint no justice in America. theres only one justice. ask the Kennedies, ask the dead, ask anybody!

Duke got up out of the rocker, walked to the closet, dipped under the box of Christmas tree ornaments and got the heat. a .45.

this, this. this is the only justice in America. this is the