"Bukowski, Charles - Short Stories Collection" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bukowski Charles)

tv. Paper people. Glass people. I felt as if I were going insane and turned
the thing off. I drank some more beer. Then I boiled 2 eggs and fried two
strips of bacon. I managed to eat. You forgot about food sometimes. The sun
came through the curtains. I drank all day. I threw the empties in the
trash. Time went. Then the door opened. It flew open. It was Marie.
"Jesus Christ!" she screamed, "you know what happened?"
"No, no, I don't."
"Oh, god damn it!"
"Whatssa matta, honey?"
"I burned the strawberries!"
"Oh, yes?"
She ran around the kitchen in little circles, that big ass bobbing. She
was crazy. She was out of it. Poor old fat cunt.
"I had this pot of strawberries going in the kitchen and one of these
tourists came in, rich bitch, first customer of the day, and she likes the
little hats I make, you know-Well, she's kinda cute and all the hats look
good on her and so she's got a problem, and then we get to talking about
Detroit, she knew somebody in Detroit that I knew, you know, and we're
talking and then all of a sudden I SMELL IT!!! THE STRAWBERRIES ARE BURNING!
I ran into the kitchen, but it's too late-.what a mess! The strawberries
have boiled over and they are everywhere and it stinks, it's burned, it's
sad, and nothing can be saved, nothing! What hell!"
"I'm sorry. But did you sell her a hat?"
"I sold her two hats. She couldn't make up her mind."
"I'm sorry about the strawberries. And I killed the spider."
"What spider?"
"I didn't think you'd know."
"Know what? What's this spiders? They're just bugs."
"They tell me a spider isn't a bug. Something to do with the number of
legs- I really don't know or care."
"A spider ain't a bug? What kinda shit is that?"
"Not an insect. So they say. Anyhow, I killed the damn thing."
"Sure. You left it there. I had to have beer."
"You have to have beer all the time?"
"Yes."
"You're going to be a problem. You had anything to eat?"
"2 eggs, 2 slices of bacon."
"You hungry?"
"Yes. But you're tired. Relax. Have a drink."
"Cooking relaxes me. But first I gotta have a hot bath."
"Go ahead."
"O.k.," she reached over and turned on the tv and then went to the
bathroom. I had to listen to tv. A news broadcast. Perfectly ugly bastard. 3
nostrils. Perfectly hateful bastard dressed like a little inane doll,
sweating, and looking at me, saying words I hardly understood or cared
about. I knew that Marie would be looking at tv for hours, so I had to
adjust to it. When Marie came back I was looking directly into the glass,
which made her feel better. I looked as harmless as a man with a
checkerboard and the sports page.
Marie had come out, dolled in another outfit. She might have even