Charles Bukowski

Post Office. Chapter II: 3

Her father really hated me. He thought I was after his money. I didn’t want his god damned money. And I didn’t even want his god damned precious daughter.

The only time I ever saw him was when he walked into the bedroom one morning about 10 a.m. Joyce and I were in bed, resting up. Luckily we had just finished.
I peered at him from under the edge of the cover. Then I couldn’t help myself. I smiled at him and gave him a big wink.

He ran out of the house growling and cursing.

If I could be removed, he’d certainly see to it.

Cramps was cooler. We’d go to his place and I’d drink whiskey with him and listen to his cowboy records. His old lady was simply indifferent. She neither liked or hated me. She fought with Joyce a lot and I sided with the old lady once or twice. That kind of won her over. But gramps was cool. I think he was in on the conspiracy.

We had been at this cafe and eaten, with everybody fawning over us and staring. There was gramps, grandma, Joyce, and I.
Then we got in the car and drove along.

“Ever seen any buffalo, Hank?” gramps asked me. “No, Wally, I haven’t.”
I called him “Wally.” Old whiskey buddies. Like hell.

“We have them here.”

“I thought they were just about extinct?”

“Oh, no, we got dozens of 'em.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Show him, Daddy Wally,” said Joyce.

Silly bitch. She called him “Daddy Wally.” He wasn’t her daddy.

“All right.”

We drove on a way until we came to this empty fenced-in field. The ground sloped and you couldn’t see the other end of the field.

It was miles long and wide. There was nothing but short green grass.

“I don’t see any buffalo,” I said.

“The wind’s right,” said Wally. “Just climb in there and walk a ways. You’ve got to walk a ways to see them.”

There was nothing in field. They thought they were being very funny, conning a city-slicker. I climbed the fence and walked on in.

“Well, where are the buffalo?” 1 called back.

“They’re there. Go on in.”

Oh hell, they were going to play the old drive-away joke. Damned farmers. They’d wait until I got in there and then drive off laughing. Well, let them. I could walk back. It’d give me a rest from Joyce.

I walked very quickly into the field, waiting for them to drive  off. I didn’t hear them leaving. I walked further in, then turned, cupped my hands and yelled back at them: “WELL, WHERE’S THE BUFFALO?”

My answer came from behind me. I could hear their feet on the ground. There were 3 of them, big ones, just like in the movies, and they were running, they were coming FAST! One had a bit of a lead on the others. There was little doubt who they were headed for.

“Oh shit!” I said.

I turned and began running. That fence looked a long way away. It looked impossible. I couldn’t spare the time to look back. That might make the difference. I was flying, wide-eyed. I really moved! But they gained steadily! I could feel the ground shaking around me as they beat up the earth getting right down on me.
I could hear them slobbering, I could hear them breathing. With the last of my strength I dug in and leaped the fence. I didn’t climb it. I sailed over it. And landed on my back in a ditch with one of those things poking his head over the fence and looking down at me.

In the car, they were all laughing. They thought it was the funniest thing they had ever seen. Joyce was laughing louder than any of them.

The stupid beasts circled, then loped off.
I got out of the ditch and climbed in the car.
“I’ve seen the buffalo,” I said, “now let’s go catch a drink.”

They laughed all the way in. They’d stop and then somebody would start and then they all would start. Wally had to stop the car once. He couldn’t drive anymore. He opened the door and rolled out on the ground and laughed. Even grandma was getting hers, along with Joyce.

Later the story got around in town and there was a bit of swagger missing from my walk. I needed a haircut. I told Joyce.

She said, “Go to a barbershop.”
And I said, “I can’t. It’s the buffalo.”
“Are you afraid of those men in the barbershop?” “It’s the buffalo,” I said.
Joyce cut my hair. She did a terrible job.

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