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- Чарльз Буковски
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"
No
,
I
don
’
t
.
"
"
Irv
,
I
need
the
owner
’
s
phone
number
.
Give
me
his
number
and
I
’
ll
suck
you
off
!
"
"
I
don
’
t
have
the
number
.
"
He
walked
up
to
his
door
and
put
his
key
into
the
lock
.
"
Come
on
,
Irv
,
I
’
ll
suck
you
off
if
you
tell
me
!
"
"
You
really
mean
it
?
"
he
asked
hesitating
,
looking
at
her
.
Then
he
opened
the
door
,
walked
in
and
closed
it
.
Tammie
ran
up
to
another
door
and
beat
on
it
.
Richard
opened
the
door
cautiously
,
with
the
chain
on
it
.
He
was
bald
,
lived
alone
,
was
religious
,
about
45
and
looked
at
television
continually
.
He
was
as
pink
and
clean
as
a
woman
.
He
complained
continually
about
the
noise
from
my
place
-
he
couldn
’
t
sleep
,
he
said
.
The
management
told
him
to
move
.
He
hated
me
.
Now
there
was
one
of
my
women
at
his
door
.
He
kept
the
chain
on
.
"
What
do
you
want
?
"
he
hissed
.
"
Look
,
baby
,
I
want
the
owner
’
s
phone
number
.
.
.
You
’
ve
lived
here
for
years
.
I
know
you
have
his
phone
number
.
I
need
it
.
"
