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

of the week went to working. I was too tired to get about much but that
Friday night I did get to the West End Bar. I sat and waited for Cass. Hours
went by . After I was fairly drunk the bartender said to me, "I'm sorry
about your girlfriend."
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, didn't you know?"
"No."
"Suicide. She was buried yesterday."
"Buried?" I asked. It seemed as though she would walk through the
doorway at any moment. How could she be gone?
"Her sisters buried her."
"A suicide? Mind telling me how?"
"She cut her throat."
"I see. Give me another drink."
I drank until closing time. Cass was the most beautiful of 5 sisters,
the most beautiful in town. I managed to drive to my place and I kept
thinking, I should have insisted she stay with me instead of accepting that
"no."Everything about her had indicated that she had cared. I simply had
been too offhand about it, lazy, too unconcerned. I deserved my death and
hers. I was a dog. No, why blame the dogs? I got up and found a bottle of
wine and drank from it heavily. Cass the most beautiful girl in town was
dead at 20. Outside somebody honked their automobile horn. They were very
loud and persistent. I sat the bottle down and screamed out: "GOD DAMN
YOU,YOU SON OF A BITCH ,SHUT UP!" The night kept coming and there was
nothing I could do.

===

**A Lovely Love Affair**

I went broke --- again --- but this time in the French Quarter, New
Orleans, and Joe Blanchard, editor of the underground paper OVERTHROW took
me down to this place around the corner, one of those dirty white buildings
with green storm windows, steps that ran almost straight up. It was Sunday
and I was expecting a royalty, no, and advance from a dirty book I had
written for the Germans, but the Germans kept writing me this bullshit about
the owner, the father, being a drunk, they were deep in the red because the
old man had withdrawn their funds from the bank, no, overdrawn them for his
drinking and fucking bouts and therefore, they were broke but they were
kicking the old man out and as soon as-
Blanchard rang the bell.
This old fat girl came to the door, and she weighed about between 250
and 300 pounds. She kind of wore this vast sheet as a dress and her eyes
were very small. I guess that was the only small thing about her. She was
Marie Glaviano, owner of a caf+ in the French Quarter, a very small caf+.
That was another thing that was not very big about her --- her caf+. But it
was a nice caf+, red and white tablecloths, expensive menus and no people
about. One of those old-time black mammy dolls standing near the entrance.
The old black mammy doll signified good times, old times, good old times,
but the good old times were gone. The tourists were walkers now. They just