Hollywood by Charles Bukowski Read Free Book Online

each side of the road were deep canyons. I made a note that driving along there at night with a few drinks in you could be hazardous.
    Finally, we pulled up in front of an unpainted wooden house. Well, it had been painted, once, a long time ago but the weather had worn away almost all the paint that had been a henshit white to begin with. The house seemed to sag forward and to the left—our left, as we got out of the car. It was a big house, looked homey, earthy.
    All of this, I thought, because I’ve accepted an advance to write a screenplay and because I’ve got a tax consultant.
    We walked up on the porch and the boards, of course, sagged under our weight. I scaled in at 228, most of it fat instead of muscle. My fighting days were over. To think I had once weighed 144 pounds on a 6-foot frame: the grand old starving days when I was writing the good stuff.
    Lila beat on the front door.
    “Darlene, honey? You decent? You better be because our butts are a-comin’ in! Got some folks who wanna see your castle! Ha, ha, ha!”
    Lila pushed the door open and we walked in.
    It was dark inside and it smelled like there was a turkey burning in the oven. Also, there was the feeling of shadowy winged creatures floating about. A light bulb hung down from a cord. The insulation had peeled away and you could see the bare wire. I felt something like a cold wind at the back of my neck. Then I realized it was only a rush of fear. I shook that idea off with the thought, this place has got to be really cheap.
    Then Darlene emerged from the darkness. Big lipstick mouth. Hair in all directions. Eyes gushing kindness to cover up years of waste. She was fat in blue jeans and faded flower blouse. Two earrings like eyeballs, they hung there swinging a bit, those blue irises. She was holding a rolled joint. She rushed forward.
    “Lila, you chippy! What’s hangin’?”
    Lila took the joint from Darlene’s hand, took a drag, handed it back.
    “How’s your ol’ peg-legged-fool-of-a-brother, Willy?”
    “Oh, shit, he just got thrown in county jail. He’s scared shitless they’re gonna get him in the ass!”
    “Don’t worry, honey, he’s too hog-ugly.”
    “You really think so?”
    “Really.”
    “I hope so!”
    Then we were introduced around. Then there was silence. We stood there as if we had lost all power of thought, of what we were about. I rather liked it. I thought, well, this is all right, I can stand around here as long as anybody. I concentrated on the twisted wire of the light bulb cord.
    A tall thin man slowly entered. He walked toward us, one stiff leg at a time. He put one leg forward and then deliberately followed it with the other. He was like a blind man without a cane. He came toward us. His face was a mass of beard and the thick hair was twisted, tangled. But he had beautiful eyes, a dark dark green. Emeralds for eyes. The sucker was worth something. And he had a big smile . He walked closer. Stopped and kept smiling , smiling .
    “This is my husband,” said Darlene, “this is Double Quartet.”
    He nodded. Sarah and I nodded back.
    Lila leaned toward me, whispered, “They both usta be in the movie business.”
    Sarah was getting tired of the time all this took.
    “Well, let’s have a look at the place!”
    “Why, sure , honey, you all bring your ass and folia me...”
    We followed Lila into the other room and as we did I glanced back. I saw Double Quartet take the joint from Darlene and have a drag.
    Jesus, he had such great eyes; eyes are truly the reflection of the soul. But, damn, that big big smile ruined it all.
    We were evidently in the dining room or the front room. There was no furniture. There was an empty water bed nailed to one of the walls and across the vtater bed, scrawled in red paint was:
    THE SPIDER SINGS ALONE
    “Looka this,” Lila said, “look at that yard. Some nice land!”
    We looked out of the window. The yard was like the road, only more so: large potholes, neglected mounds of dirt