Free Absence of the Hero by Charles Bukowski, Edited with an introduction by David Calonne Page B

took a bit of whiskey to get up my nerve. Got on the phone. Hey, baby, I have a bottle. Come on over. We’ll drink. Talk some shit. Then fuck.
    She hung up.
    I went back to the blackboard:
    WHY WASH UNDER THE ARMS WHEN THE ROACH HAS CONQUERED MORE THAN ALEXANDRIA?
    WHY RIDE A BICYCLE WHEN HENRY MILLER RIDES A BICYCLE?
    WE ’ VE PLAYED AT SOUL — NOT HAVING ANY—WE HAVE FUCKED-UP THE SACRED ATROCITY OF BREATHING.
    WE HAVE BRUTALIZED THE EARTH MORE THAN ANY ARMIES.
    WHEN THE HERO ARRIVES WE WILL FIND THAT HE WAS ALWAYS HERE.
    Then I sat down, lit a cigarette, took two reds, and waited.

Christ with Barbecue Sauce
    The hitchhiker was standing just below the gas station when they picked him up. They put him in the back seat with Caroline.
    Murray was driving. Frank turned around, put his arm on the back of the seat, and looked at the hitchhiker.
    â€œYou a hippie?”
    â€œI don’t know. Why?” asked the kid.
    â€œWell, we kind of specialize in hippies. We’re used to them.”
    â€œThen you don’t dislike us?”
    â€œWhy, hell no, kid, we love hippies! What’s your name?”
    â€œBruce.”
    â€œBruce. Well, that’s a nice name. I’m Frank. The guy who’s driving, that’s Murray. And that beautiful bitch next to you, that’s Caroline.”
    Bruce nodded and grinned. Then asked, “How far you going?”
    â€œAll the way, kid, we’re taking you all the way.”
    Murray laughed.
    â€œWhat’s he laughing at?” asked Bruce.
    â€œMurray always laughs in the wrong places. But he’s our driver. He’s a good driver. He drives us all up and down the coast, through Arizona, Texas, Louisiana. He never seems to get tired, but he’s all right, ain’t that right, baby?” he asked Caroline.
    â€œSure, and Bruce is all right too.” She put her hand on the kid’s knee, squeezed it. Then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
    â€œYou had anything to eat lately, kid?”
    â€œNo, I’m pretty hungry.”
    â€œWell, don’t worry. We’re going to stop and eat something pretty soon.”
    Caroline kept smiling at Bruce. “He’s nice. Real nice.” Bruce felt her hand slide down along his leg toward his penis. Frank didn’t seem to mind and Murray just kept driving. Then she was upon his penis, rubbing it and smiling.
    â€œWhere’d you sleep last night, kid?” asked Frank.
    â€œUnder the trees. It was pretty damned cold. I was sure glad when the sun came up.”
    â€œYou’re lucky some animal didn’t gobble you up during the night.”
    Murray laughed again.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” asked the kid.
    â€œI mean, under all that hair, you look like a nice juicy kid.”
    â€œSure does,” said Caroline. She kept stroking his penis. It was getting hard.
    â€œHow old are you, Bruce?”
    â€œ19.”
    â€œYou read Ginsberg, Kerouac?” “Sure, but they were kind of from the Beat era. We like rock and folk music, that stuff. I like Johnny Cash too. And Bobby Dylan, of course. . . . ”
    Caroline had his zipper open and had his thing out. Then she had her tongue on it, was giving him the barberpole. Frank acted like it wasn’t happening.
    â€œYou been up to Berkeley?”
    â€œOh yeah. Berkeley, Denver, Santa Barbara, Frisco. . . . ”
    â€œYou think there’s going to be a revolution?”
    â€œYeah, there has to be. There’s no way out. You see. . . . ”
    She had his cock in her mouth. The kid couldn’t talk anymore.
    Murray finally looked back, then laughed. Frank lit a cigarette and watched.
    â€œJesus,” said the kid, “o my god, Jesus!”
    Caroline was bobbing. Then she got it all. It was over. Bruce fell back in his seat, pulled up his zipper.
    â€œHow was that, kid?”
    â€œWell, real fine, you know.”
    â€œNot often you get a ride