Charles Bukowski

Ham on Rye: 50

Everybody had gym period at the same time. Baldy’s locker was about
four or five down from mine in the same row. I went to my locker early. Baldy and I had a similar problem. We hated wool pants because the wool itched our legs but our parents just loved for us to wear wool. I had solved the problem, for Baldy and myself, by letting him in on a secret. All you
had to do was to wear your pajamas underneath the wool pants.
I opened my locker and undressed. I got my pants and pajamas off and then I took the pajamas and hid them on top of the locker. I got into my gym suit. The other guys were starting to walk in.
Baldy and I had some great pajama stories but Baldy’s was the best. He had been out with his girlfriend one night, they had gone to some dance. In between dances his girlfriend had said, “What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“There’s something sticking out of your pant cuff.”
“What?”
“My goodness! You’re wearing your pajamas underneath your
pants!”
“Oh? Oh, that . . . I must have forgotten . . .”
“I’m leaving right now!”
She never dated him again.
All the guys were changing into their gym clothes. Then Baldy walked in and opened his locker.
“How ya doing, pal?” I asked him.
“Oh, hello. Hank . . .”
“I’ve got a 7 a.m. English class. It really starts the day outright. Only they ought to call it Music Appreciation /.”
“Oh yeah. Hamilton. I’ve heard of him. Hee hee hee . . .”
I walked over to him.
Baldy had unbuckled his pants. I reached over and yanked his pants
down. Underneath were green striped pajamas. He tried to yank his pants back
up but I was too strong for him.
“HEY, FELLOWS, LOOK! JESUS CHRIST, HERE’S A GUY WHO WEARS HIS PAJAMAS TO SCHOOL!”
Baldy was struggling. His face was florid. A couple of guys walked over
and looked. Then I did the worst. I yanked his pajamas down.
“AND LOOK HERE! THE POOR FUCKER IS NOT ONLY BALD BUT HE DOESN’T HARDLY HAVE A COCK! WHAT IS THIS POOR EUCKER GOING TO DO WHEN HE CONFRONTS A WOMAN?”
Some big guy standing nearby said, “Chinaski, you’re really a piece of
shit!”
“Yeah,” said a couple of other guys. “Yeah . . . yeah . . .” I heard
other voices.
Baldy pulled his pants up. He was actually crying. He looked at the
guys. “Well, Chinaski wears pajamas too! He was the guy who started
me doing it! Look in his locker, just look in his locker!”
Baldy ran down to my locker and ripped the door open. He pulled all my
clothing out. The pajamas weren’t in there.
“He’s hidden them! He’s hidden them somewhere!”
I left my clothes on the floor and walked out on the field for roll
call. I stood in the second row. I did a couple of deep knee bends. I
noticed another big guy behind me. I’d heard his name around, Sholom
Stodolsky.
“Chinaski,” he said, “you’re a piece of shit.”
“Don’t mess with me, man, I’ve got an edgy nature.”
“Well, I’m messing with you.”
“Don’t push me too far, fat boy.”
“You know the place between the Biology Building and the tennis
courts?”
“I’ve seen it.”
“I’ll meet you there after gym.”
“O.K.,” I said.
I didn’t show up. After gym I cut the rest of my classes and took the
streetcars down to Pershing Square. I sat on a bench and waited for some
action. It seemed a long time coming. Finally a Religionist and an Atheist
got into it. They weren’t much good. I was an Agnostic. Agnostics didn’t have much to argue about. I left the park and walked down to 7th and Broadway. That was the center of town. There didn’t seem to be much doing there, just people waiting for the signals to change so they could cross the street. Then I noticed my legs were starting to itch. I had left my pajamas
on top of the locker. What a fucking lousy day it had been from beginning to end. I hopped a “W” streetcar and sat in the back as it rolled along
carrying me back toward home.

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