Read Online Willard and His Bowling Trophies by Richard Brautigan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Richard Brautigan
Ads: Link
console him. Tears were slowly drying on his face.
Downstairs John was making a turkey sandwich. He was pulling off pieces of meat from an ornate-looking turkey carcass on the table.
Patricia was pouring out big glasses of ice-cold milk to go with the sandwiches while they watched the Johnny Carson show in the bedroom, and as soon as she finished with her sandwich and glass of milk, she would be fast asleep and John would stay up with Johnny Carson for a little while and then he would join her in sleep.
“Lots of white meat on mine,” Patricia said. “And don’t short me on the mayonnaise.”
“Have I ever done that to you?” John said.
“No, but there’s always a first time for everything.”
“Jesus,” he said at exactly the same time that upstairs in the kitchen above them, Bob said, “I don’t want to cry any more for dead people.”
Constance tried to think of something to console him but she couldn’t think of anything, so she remained silent, sitting beside him at the table, holding his hand.
Of course Bob and Constance couldn’t hear what Patricia and John were saying downstairs and neither of the couples knew what the other couple was doing.
That’s one of the strange things about people living in apartment buildings. They barely know what anybody else is doing. The doors are made out of mystery,
“More mayonnaise and more pepper,” Patricia said.
“Don’t think about it anymore,” Constance said.
A visit to Kansas
The Logan brothers spent six months in Kansas looking for the stolen bowling trophies. They looked very carefully in Topeka, Dodge City, Wichita, Kansas City, etc,
etc, etc, etc,
cities, cities of Kansas:
Reserve,
Ulysses,
Pretty Prairie,
and Gas, Kansas.
They looked in the windows of houses in quiet residential neighborhoods. Maybe the person who stole the trophies was a show-off and wanted people to see the trophies in his front window like a Christmas tree.
They looked under bridges and in wheat fields.
They hung around bowling alleys, deliberately overhearing conversations, hoping that they might find a clue in listening to bowlers talking to each other. Maybe one of them would spill the beans but it all came to nothing.
The Logan brothers spent the money that they had taken with them when they left home and they didn’t want to get jobs because that would take away valuable time from looking for the bowling trophies.
So they became minor thieves: shoplifting, breaking into parked cars, newspaper-rack coin boxes, etc. One night in Pretty Prairie they stole a rug off the clothes line in somebody’s backyard and stepped in a bed of flowers.
“Watch out for the flowers.”
“Oh, shit! I stepped on them.”
“Big feet!”
That’s the kind of stuff the Logan brothers were doing.
Before the bowling trophies were stolen, they had never engaged in activities like this. They were honest and looked up to as heroes, and all the mothers in town wanted their sons to grow up and be like the Logan brothers and be champion bowlers.
Toward an understanding of
television and sleep
Patricia and John nakedly took big turkey sandwiches and glasses of ice-cold milk into the bedroom. They were doing a very good imitation of American health.
John turned the television set on and Johnny Carson popped into the room, like a firecracker on the TV screen. He had just finished telling a joke and everybody was laughing except the guest sitting next to him. The guest was not laughing. The guest looked very dour.
Ed McMahon, Carson’s cohort, then said something and the guest smiled and Johnny Carson brought up a subject that really interested the guest.
The subject was the guest and the guest immediately started talking about the guest and then everything was running smoothly. John liked to watch this kind of stuff before he went to sleep. It helped him sleep better. He used to have a little trouble falling asleep but the Johnny Carson show had changed that. After twenty or
Downstairs John was making a turkey sandwich. He was pulling off pieces of meat from an ornate-looking turkey carcass on the table.
Patricia was pouring out big glasses of ice-cold milk to go with the sandwiches while they watched the Johnny Carson show in the bedroom, and as soon as she finished with her sandwich and glass of milk, she would be fast asleep and John would stay up with Johnny Carson for a little while and then he would join her in sleep.
“Lots of white meat on mine,” Patricia said. “And don’t short me on the mayonnaise.”
“Have I ever done that to you?” John said.
“No, but there’s always a first time for everything.”
“Jesus,” he said at exactly the same time that upstairs in the kitchen above them, Bob said, “I don’t want to cry any more for dead people.”
Constance tried to think of something to console him but she couldn’t think of anything, so she remained silent, sitting beside him at the table, holding his hand.
Of course Bob and Constance couldn’t hear what Patricia and John were saying downstairs and neither of the couples knew what the other couple was doing.
That’s one of the strange things about people living in apartment buildings. They barely know what anybody else is doing. The doors are made out of mystery,
“More mayonnaise and more pepper,” Patricia said.
“Don’t think about it anymore,” Constance said.
A visit to Kansas
The Logan brothers spent six months in Kansas looking for the stolen bowling trophies. They looked very carefully in Topeka, Dodge City, Wichita, Kansas City, etc,
etc, etc, etc,
cities, cities of Kansas:
Reserve,
Ulysses,
Pretty Prairie,
and Gas, Kansas.
They looked in the windows of houses in quiet residential neighborhoods. Maybe the person who stole the trophies was a show-off and wanted people to see the trophies in his front window like a Christmas tree.
They looked under bridges and in wheat fields.
They hung around bowling alleys, deliberately overhearing conversations, hoping that they might find a clue in listening to bowlers talking to each other. Maybe one of them would spill the beans but it all came to nothing.
The Logan brothers spent the money that they had taken with them when they left home and they didn’t want to get jobs because that would take away valuable time from looking for the bowling trophies.
So they became minor thieves: shoplifting, breaking into parked cars, newspaper-rack coin boxes, etc. One night in Pretty Prairie they stole a rug off the clothes line in somebody’s backyard and stepped in a bed of flowers.
“Watch out for the flowers.”
“Oh, shit! I stepped on them.”
“Big feet!”
That’s the kind of stuff the Logan brothers were doing.
Before the bowling trophies were stolen, they had never engaged in activities like this. They were honest and looked up to as heroes, and all the mothers in town wanted their sons to grow up and be like the Logan brothers and be champion bowlers.
Toward an understanding of
television and sleep
Patricia and John nakedly took big turkey sandwiches and glasses of ice-cold milk into the bedroom. They were doing a very good imitation of American health.
John turned the television set on and Johnny Carson popped into the room, like a firecracker on the TV screen. He had just finished telling a joke and everybody was laughing except the guest sitting next to him. The guest was not laughing. The guest looked very dour.
Ed McMahon, Carson’s cohort, then said something and the guest smiled and Johnny Carson brought up a subject that really interested the guest.
The subject was the guest and the guest immediately started talking about the guest and then everything was running smoothly. John liked to watch this kind of stuff before he went to sleep. It helped him sleep better. He used to have a little trouble falling asleep but the Johnny Carson show had changed that. After twenty or
Similar Books
