Read Online Come On In by Charles Bukowski - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles Bukowski
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feel strangely like paper; why shouldn’t they, huh?
Mr. Cobweb, you tell the funniest jokes I’ve ever heard!
so call me any time, I always answer on the fourth ring, for
sure.
a bright boy
I was in one of those after-hour places.
I don’t know how long I had been there when
I noticed a dead cigar in my hand. I attempted
to light it and burned my nose.
“you ever meet Randy Newhall?” the guy
next to me asked.
“no …”
“he went through college in 2 years instead
of 4.”
I asked the barkeep to bring us a couple more
drinks.
“then he walked into the largest employment agency
in town, they had 50 applications for this
one job at a talent agency but
he just talked to the manager for 15
minutes and was hired.”
“uh …”
“he began in the mailroom and in 12 months he
was making package deals for tv programs
and movies.
nobody ever got out of the mailroom that
fast, and next he married a rich girl
just out of law school.”
“yeah?”
“after that he spent most of his
time putting golf balls into a water glass
in his office.
he made the work look easy …”
“listen,” I asked, “what time is it? the
battery in my watch went dead.”
“… and in another year
he was promoted to upper management and
a year later he took over the whole place.
he was
the youngest CEO in America.”
“you buy the next round,” I told him.
“sure, well, he doubled his work hours and
after a while his wife left him—women don’t
understand.”
“what?”
“guys like him.”
“oh …”
“he didn’t contest the divorce.
he just moved on. it didn’t faze him one bit.
it was amazing, you’d
see him having dinner with congressmen, with
the mayor.”
“are you going to get the next round?”
he told the barkeep, who brought two more.
“then he began working 16- and 18-hour
days and after work he’d frequent
after-hour places above the Sunset Strip, to relax,
to try to unwind.”
“a place like this, huh?”
“this was the place. he didn’t try to close
deals, he just wanted to relax with the
actors, the artists, the screenwriters, the
directors, the producers, the investors
and so forth. and, of course, there were also the
beautiful girls.”
“here?”
“yes, look around …”
I did.
“well, it was just a matter of time until he discovered
coke, then more coke, mostly with his new friends
after the after-hour places closed.”
“flying, what?”
“yes, but professionally he
continued to function well until
he began doing crank.”
“it really keeps you awake, huh? my
round to buy …”
I ordered two more.
“after some months he felt more and more
depressed, he took 6 weeks off and went to
Hawaii, resting, laying in the sun.”
“did he screw?”
“he told me that he tried. anyhow, he came back
and he used to talk to me here just like you’re
doing now.”
“oh.”
“then he became obsessed with some Mexican Real
Estate Dream
which
he would bankroll
with a Mexican friend
who was powerful in politics there.
the master plan was that
within 8 years they would control
a real estate empire and
several banks before the
government could stop them.
“drink up,” I suggested.
“well, they didn’t quite get it rolling.
he lost everything.
at the office he became difficult and unreasonable,
smashing ashtrays, throwing the phone out the window,
once pouring a can of Tab down his secretary’s
blouse. yet somehow he managed to retain an
obnoxious brilliance and he remained almost functional
which was better than most of the others there.”
“most others don’t have much.”
“that’s true. anyhow, one day he arrived at work
dressed in a house painter’s outfit, you know, the
white overalls, the little white cap, carrying a brush and a
bucket of paint. that’s when the Board of Directors
insisted on a 3-month leave of
Mr. Cobweb, you tell the funniest jokes I’ve ever heard!
so call me any time, I always answer on the fourth ring, for
sure.
a bright boy
I was in one of those after-hour places.
I don’t know how long I had been there when
I noticed a dead cigar in my hand. I attempted
to light it and burned my nose.
“you ever meet Randy Newhall?” the guy
next to me asked.
“no …”
“he went through college in 2 years instead
of 4.”
I asked the barkeep to bring us a couple more
drinks.
“then he walked into the largest employment agency
in town, they had 50 applications for this
one job at a talent agency but
he just talked to the manager for 15
minutes and was hired.”
“uh …”
“he began in the mailroom and in 12 months he
was making package deals for tv programs
and movies.
nobody ever got out of the mailroom that
fast, and next he married a rich girl
just out of law school.”
“yeah?”
“after that he spent most of his
time putting golf balls into a water glass
in his office.
he made the work look easy …”
“listen,” I asked, “what time is it? the
battery in my watch went dead.”
“… and in another year
he was promoted to upper management and
a year later he took over the whole place.
he was
the youngest CEO in America.”
“you buy the next round,” I told him.
“sure, well, he doubled his work hours and
after a while his wife left him—women don’t
understand.”
“what?”
“guys like him.”
“oh …”
“he didn’t contest the divorce.
he just moved on. it didn’t faze him one bit.
it was amazing, you’d
see him having dinner with congressmen, with
the mayor.”
“are you going to get the next round?”
he told the barkeep, who brought two more.
“then he began working 16- and 18-hour
days and after work he’d frequent
after-hour places above the Sunset Strip, to relax,
to try to unwind.”
“a place like this, huh?”
“this was the place. he didn’t try to close
deals, he just wanted to relax with the
actors, the artists, the screenwriters, the
directors, the producers, the investors
and so forth. and, of course, there were also the
beautiful girls.”
“here?”
“yes, look around …”
I did.
“well, it was just a matter of time until he discovered
coke, then more coke, mostly with his new friends
after the after-hour places closed.”
“flying, what?”
“yes, but professionally he
continued to function well until
he began doing crank.”
“it really keeps you awake, huh? my
round to buy …”
I ordered two more.
“after some months he felt more and more
depressed, he took 6 weeks off and went to
Hawaii, resting, laying in the sun.”
“did he screw?”
“he told me that he tried. anyhow, he came back
and he used to talk to me here just like you’re
doing now.”
“oh.”
“then he became obsessed with some Mexican Real
Estate Dream
which
he would bankroll
with a Mexican friend
who was powerful in politics there.
the master plan was that
within 8 years they would control
a real estate empire and
several banks before the
government could stop them.
“drink up,” I suggested.
“well, they didn’t quite get it rolling.
he lost everything.
at the office he became difficult and unreasonable,
smashing ashtrays, throwing the phone out the window,
once pouring a can of Tab down his secretary’s
blouse. yet somehow he managed to retain an
obnoxious brilliance and he remained almost functional
which was better than most of the others there.”
“most others don’t have much.”
“that’s true. anyhow, one day he arrived at work
dressed in a house painter’s outfit, you know, the
white overalls, the little white cap, carrying a brush and a
bucket of paint. that’s when the Board of Directors
insisted on a 3-month leave of
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