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- Чарльз Буковски
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- Стр. 253/501
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I
fell
asleep
.
It
was
one
worried
sleep
.
They
were
going
to
tow
me
away
.
I
was
going
to
get
booked
.
I
awakened
at
6
:
20
am
,
got
dressed
and
walked
to
the
pizza
parlor
.
The
car
was
still
there
.
The
sun
was
coming
up
.
I
reached
in
and
grabbed
the
rattan
.
It
still
wouldn
’
t
budge
.
I
was
furious
,
and
began
pulling
and
yanking
,
cursing
.
The
more
impossible
it
seemed
,
the
madder
I
got
.
Suddenly
there
was
a
cracking
of
wood
.
I
was
inspired
,
energized
.
A
piece
of
wood
broke
off
in
my
hands
.
I
looked
at
it
,
tossed
it
into
the
street
,
went
back
to
my
task
.
Something
else
broke
off
.
The
days
in
the
factories
,
the
days
of
unloading
boxcars
,
the
days
of
lifting
cases
of
frozen
fish
,
the
days
of
carrying
murdered
cattle
on
my
shoulders
were
paying
off
.
I
had
always
been
strong
but
equally
lazy
.
Now
I
was
tearing
that
chair
to
pieces
.
Finally
I
ripped
it
out
of
the
car
.
I
attacked
it
in
the
parking
lot
.
I
smashed
it
to
bits
,
I
broke
it
in
pieces
.
Then
I
picked
up
the
pieces
and
stacked
them
neatly
on
somebody
’
s
front
lawn
.
I
got
in
the
Volks
and
found
an
empty
parking
space
near
my
court
.
All
I
had
to
do
now
was
find
a
junkyard
on
Santa
Fe
Avenue
and
buy
myself
a
new
windshield
.
That
could
wait
.
I
went
back
in
,
drank
two
glasses
of
ice
water
and
went
to
bed
.
Four
or
five
days
passed
.
The
phone
rang
.
It
was
Tammie
.
"
What
do
you
want
?
"
I
asked
.
"
Listen
,
Hank
.
You
know
that
little
bridge
you
cross
in
your
car
when
you
drive
to
my
mother
’
s
place
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
Well
,
right
by
there
they
’
re
having
a
yard
sale
.
I
went
in
and
saw
this
typewriter
.
It
’
s
only
20
bucks
and
it
’
s
in
good
working
order
.
Please
get
it
for
me
,
Hank
.
"
"
What
do
you
want
with
a
typewriter
?
"
