Tales of Ordinary Madness by Charles Bukowski Read Free Book Online

full glass. Straight down. No water.
    Then we were there. Seattle ...
    I let them all get off first. I had to. Now I couldn’t get out of my seatbelt.
    I called to the one with the big veins in her neck.
    â€œStewardess! Stewardess!”
    She walked back.
    â€œLook I’m sorry ... but how do you ... open this damn thing?”
    She wouldn’t touch the belt or get close to me.
    â€œTurn it over, sir.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œJust pull on that little clip on the back ...”
    She walked away. I pulled at the little clip. Nothing. I pulled and I pulled. Oh, Christ! ... then, it gave.
    I grabbed my flightbag and tried to act normal.
    She smiled at me at the gangplank door.
    â€œGood afternoon and come again, sir!”
    I walked down the runway. A young boy with long blonde hair was standing there.
    â€œMr. Chinaski?” he asked.
    â€œYes, is that you, Belford?”
    â€œI kept watching the faces ...” he said.
    â€œThat’s all right,” I said, “let’s get out of here.”
    â€œWe still have a few spare hours before the reading.”
    â€œGreat,” I said.
    They were tearing up the airport. You had to take a bus to get to the parking lot. They let you wait. There was a big crowd waiting for the bus. Belford started to walk toward them.
    â€œWait! Wait!” I said. “I just can’t stand there among all those damned people!”
    â€œThey don’t know who you are, Mr. Chinaski.”
    â€œHow well I know. But I know who they are. Let’s stand here. When the bus comes we’ll dash up. Meanwhile how about a little drink?”
    â€œNo thanks, Mr. Chinaski.”
    â€œLook, Belford, call me Henry.”
    â€œI’m Henry too,” he answered.
    â€œOh yes, I forgot.” ...
    We stood and I drank.
    â€œHere comes the bus, Henry!”
    â€œO.k., Henry!”
    We ran for the bus ...
    After that, we decided that I was “Hank” and he was “Henry.”
    He had an address in his hand. A friend’s cabin. We could lay up there together until the reading. His friend was gone. The reading wasn’t until 9 p.m. Somehow Henry couldn’t find the cabin. It was nice country. Sure, it was nice country. Pines and pines and lakes and pines. Fresh air. No traffic. It bored me. There wasn’t any beauty in me. I thought, I’m not a very nice fellow. Here’s life the way it should be and I feel as if I were in jail.
    â€œNice country,” I said, “but I suppose some day they’ll get to it.”
    â€œThey will,” said Henry. “You ought to see it when the snow comes down.”
    Thank god, I thought, I’m spared that ...
    Belford stopped outside a bar. We went in. I hated bars. I’d written too many stories and poems about bars. Belford thought he was doing me a favor.
    You can get just so much out of bars and they won’t go down anymore. They come up. People in bars were like people in 5 and dime stores: they were killing time and everything else.
    I followed him in. He knew some people at a table. Lo, here was a professor of something. And there was a professor of something. And there was this and there was that. A tableful of them. Some women. Somehow the women looked like margarine. Everybody sat there drinking this green poison beer in big mugs.
    A green beer arrived in front of me. I lifted it, held my breath and took a pull.
    â€œI’ve always liked your work,” said one of the profs, “You remind me of ...”
    â€œPardon me,” I said, “I’ll be right back ...”
    I hustled toward the crapper. Naturally it stank. A nice quaint place.
    Bar ... coming up!
    I didn’t have time to get a toilet door open. It had to go into the urinal. Further down the urinal from me was the bar clown. The town “mayor.” In his red cap. Funny guy. Shit.
    I let it go, gave him the dirtiest look I could, then he walked out.
    Then I walked out