Free Hot Water Music by Charles Bukowski Page A

“Another few minutes and I would have been too late.”
    “Another ten seconds,” said Tony.
    “You might as well clothe yourself too, my man,” said Damion looking down at Tony.
    “Mother,” said Tony, “I happen to live here. I don’t know who let you in. But I figure if I want to lay here balls naked, I’ve got a right.”
    “Hurry, Meg,” said Damion, “I will take you out of this nest of sin.”
    “Listen, mother,” said Tony, getting up and slipping into his jocks, “your sister wanted it and I wanted it and that’s two votes to one.”
    “Ta-ta,” said Damion.
    “Ta-ta, nothing,” said Tony. “She was about to get her rocks off and I was about to get my rocks off and you come bursting in here and interfere with a decent democratic decision, stopping a good old-fashioned horse-fuck!”
    “Pack your things, Meg. I’m taking you home immediately.”
    “Yes, Damion!”
    “I got a good mind to bust you up, fuck-killer!”
    “Please restrain yourself. I abhor violence!”
    Tony swung. Damion was gone.
    “Over here, Tony.” Damion was standing over by the bathroom door. Tony rushed him. He vanished again.
    “Over here, Tony.” Damion was standing on top of the bed, shoes and all.
    Tony rushed across the room, leaped, found nothing, flew over the bed and fell to the floor. He got up and looked around. “Damion! Oh, Damion, you cheap-ass, tinhorn, shoe-factory Superman, where are you? Oh, Damion! Here, Damion! Come to me, Damion!”
    Tony felt the blow on the back of his neck. There was a flash of red and the faint sound of one trumpet playing. Then he fell forward on the rug.
     
     
     
    It was the telephone that brought him to consciousness some time later. He managed to get to the night stand where the phone sat, lifted the receiver and slumped down on the bed.
    “Tony?”
    “Yes?”
    “Is this Tony?”
    “Yes.”
    “This is Dolly.”
    “Hey, Dolly, whatcha say, Dolly?”
    “Don’t be funny, Tony. Mother died.”
    “Mother?”
    “Yes, my mother. Tonight.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “I’ll stay for the funeral. I’ll be home after the funeral.”
    Tony hung up. He saw the morning paper on the floor. He pickedit up and stretched out on the bed. The war in the Falklands was still on. Both sides charged violations of this and that. There was still firing. Wouldn’t that god damned war ever end?
    Tony got up and walked into the kitchen. He found some salami and liverwurst in the refrigerator. He made a salami and liverwurst sandwich with hot mustard, relish, onion and tomato. He found one bottle of Tuborg left. He drank the Tuborg and ate the salami and liverwurst sandwich at the breakfastnook table. Then he lit a cigarette and sat there thinking, well, maybe the old lady left a little money, that would be nice, that would be damned nice. A man deserved a little luck after a rough night like this.

SOME MOTHER
     
     
    Eddie’s mother had horseteeth and I did too and I remember once we walked up a hill together on the way to the store and she said, “Henry, we both need braces for our teeth. We look awful!” I walked proudly up the hill with her and she had on a tight yellow print dress, flowered, and she had on high heels and she wiggled and her heels went click, click, click on the cement. I thought, I’m walking with Eddie’s mother and she’s walking with me and we’re walking up the hill together. That was all—I walked into the store to buy a loaf of bread for my parents and she purchased her things. That was all.
    I liked to go to Eddie’s place. His mother always sat in a chair with a drink in her hand and she crossed her legs real high and you could see where the stockings ended and where the flesh began. I liked Eddie’s mother, she was a real lady. When I walked in she’d say, “Hi, Henry!” and smile and she wouldn’t pull her skirt down. Eddie’s father would say hello too. He was a big guy and he’d be sitting there with a drink in his hand too. Jobs