Charles Bukowski

Post Office. Chapter II: 1

Meanwhile, things went on. I had a long run of luck at the racetrack. I began to feel confident out there. You went for a certain profit each day, somewhere between 15 and 40 bucks.

You didn’t ask too much. If you didn’t hit early, you bet a little more, enough so that if the horse came in, you had your profit margin. I kept coming back, day after day, winners, giving Betty the thumb-up as I drove in the driveway.

Then Betty got a job as a typist, and when one of those shack-jobs gets a job, you notice the difference right away. We kept drinking each night and she left before I did in the morning, all hungover. Now she’d know what it was like. I got up around 10:30 a.m., had a leisurely cup of coffee and a couple of eggs, played with the dog, flirted with the young wife of a mechanic who lived in the back, got friendly with a strip– teaser who lived in the front. I’d be at the track by one p.m., then back with my profit, and out with the dog at the bus stop to wait for Betty to come home. It was a good life.

Then, one night, Betty, my love, let me have it, over the first drink:

“Hank, I can’t stand it!”

“You can’t stand what, baby?” “The situation.”

“What situation, babe?”

“Me working and you laying around. All the neighbors think I am supporting you.”

“Hell, I worked and you laid around.”

“That’s different. You’re a man, I’m a woman.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. I thought you bitches were always screaming for equal rights?”

“I know what’s going on with little butterball in back, walk– ing around in front of you with her tits hanging out...”

“Her tits hanging out?”

“Yes, her TITS! Those big white cow-tits!”

“Hmm... They are big at that.” “There! You see!”

“Now what the hell?”

“I’ve got friends around here. They see what’s going on!” “These aren’t friends. Those are just mealy-mouthed gossips.”

“And that whore up front who poses as a dancer.” “She’s a whore?”

“She’ll screw anything with a cock.”

“You’ve gone crazy.”

“I just don’t want all these people thinking I am supporting you. All the neighbors ...”

“God damn the neighbors! What do we care what they think? We never did before. Besides, I’m paying the rent. I’m buying the food! I’m making it at the track. Your money is yours. You never had it so good.”

“No, Hank, it’s over. I can’t stand it!”

I got up and walked over to her.

“Now, come on, baby, you’re just a little upset tonight,” I tried to grab her. She pushed me away.

“All right, god damn it!” I said.

I walked back to my chair, finished my drink, had another.

“It’s over,” she said, “I’m not sleeping with you another night.”

“All right. Keep your pussy. It’s not that great.”

“Do you want to keep the house or do you want to move out?” she asked.

“You keep the house.” “How about the dog?”

“You keep the dog,” I said.

“He’s going to miss you.”

“I’m glad somebody is going to miss me.”

I got up, walked to the car and I rented the first place I saw with a sign. I moved in that night.

I had just lost 3 women and a dog.

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