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One night I was assigned to the stool next to Butchner. He didn’t stick any mail. He just sat there. And talked.

A young girl came in and sat down at the end of the aisle.

I heard Butchner. “Yeah, you cunt! You want my cock in your pussy, don’t you?

That’s what you want, you cunt, don’t you?”

I went on sticking mail. The soup walked past. Butchner said, “You’re on my list, mother! I’m going to get you, you dirty mother! You rotten bastard! Cocksucker!”
The supervisors never bothered Butchner. Nobody ever bothered Butchner.

Then I heard him again. “All right, baby! I don’t like that look on your face! You’re on my list, mother! You’re right there on top of my list! I’m going to get your ass!

Hey, I’m talking to you! You hear me?”

It was too much. I threw my mail down.

“All right,” I told him, “I’m calling your card! I’m calling your whole stinking deck! You wanna go right here or outside?”

I looked at Butchner. He was talking to the ceiling, insane:

“I told you, you’re on top of my list! I’m going to get you and I’m going to get you good!”

O for Christ’s sake, I thought, I really sucked into that one! The clerks were very quiet. I couldn’t blame them. I got up, went to get a drink of water. Then came back. 20 minutes later I got up to take my ten minute break. When I got back, the supervisor was waiting. A fat black man in his early 50's. He screamed at me:

“CHINASKI!”

“What’s the matter, man?” I asked.

“You’ve left your seat twice in 30 minutes!”

“Yeah, I got a drink of water the first time. 30 seconds. Then later I took my break.”
“Suppose you worked at a machine? You couldn’t leave your machine twice in 30 minutes!”

His whole face glistened in fury. It was astounding. I couldn’t understand it.

“I’M WRITING YOU UP!” “All right,” I said.

I went down and sat next to Butchner. The supervisor came running down with the write-up. It was written in longhand. I couldn’t even read it. He had written in such fury that it had all come out in blots and slants.

I folded the write-up into a neat package, slipped it in my rear pocket.

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch!” Butchner said.

“I wish you would, fat boy,” I said, “I wish you would.”

Other works by Charles Bukowski...



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