Calvero's Blog, page 200
March 3, 2015
the elephant in the room at my mother’s 67th birthday party was...
the elephant in the room at my mother’s 67th birthday party was a complete dick
by Calvero
March 2, 2015
I’ve been waiting a life timefor this moment to...
I’ve been
waiting a life time
for this
moment to come.
I’m destined
for anything at all.
March 1, 2015
cats are smarter than us. cats know they’re not refrigerators.by...
cats are smarter than us. cats know they’re not refrigerators.
by Calvero
10. getting closer to unlimited soups and
salads ...
10. getting closer to unlimited soups and
salads
Linda is smiling.
The ex-boy is smiling.
The ex-girl is smiling.
Bukowski is still hopping up and
down on the couch like a monkey as the street organ continues its song.
The ex-girl reaches into her pocket
and takes out the quarter tip she got from the lady who uses pizza as a murder
weapon. She walks over to Bukowski jumping on the couch and drops the quarter
in the tin cup.
This excites Bukowski and his
hopping and jumping becomes even more exuberant.
“Thank you,” says Linda on her
monkey’s behalf.
“You’re welcome. But there goes our
Olive Garden fund,” the ex-girl says.
Linda walks into the bedroom and
returns with her purse.
“Here,” she says, reaching inside.
“This is for the pizza. And keep the change. That should help you two get to
The Olive Garden.”
Linda hands the ex-girl $40.
“Oh, thank you. That’s so very sweet
of you, darling. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Glad I could help.
Besides, I guess we’re all trying to get to our own Olive Garden one way or
another, aren’t we?”
The ex-girl nods.
The ex-boy nods.
Linda nods.
Nods all around.
Getting closer to unlimited soups
and salads.
The three of them stand there in
silence, each reflecting on their own private pilgrimage to The Olive Garden.
The music coming from the street
organ suddenly comes to a stop.
But Bukowski, however, doesn’t stop.
He continues hopping up and down on
the couch like a monkey, the quarter rattling around in the tin can as he does
so, sounding like beautiful music itself.
February 28, 2015
9.
the apartment organ Linda is sitting on a couch,...
9.
the apartment organ
Linda is sitting on a couch, eating
a slice of pizza, with Bukowski sitting beside her.
The couch looks gross.
The couch looks like a cold Louis-Ferdinand Céline caught back in 1936.
But made out of fabric.
Linda is topless as she sits on the
couch eating her pizza. Her breasts are small and perky. She wears nothing but
a long, flowing skirt that goes all the way down to her ankles.
With his beer in one hand, Bukowski
presses himself into Linda as she eats her slice of pizza and slowly runs his
free up the inside of her leg underneath her skirt.
The ex-boy and the ex-girl stand
across the room from them by the door. They still haven’t been paid and are
waiting for their money. They want their money so they can leave. There is a
darkness and gloom in the apartment that is uncomfortable and hangs low,
forcing their black clouds to rest on top of their heads like mother birds
trying to keep their eggs warm.
“Come on, you damned whore. Show me
some more leg. I wanna see some more leg,” says Bukowski.
“Look at my tits for now, you pig.
I’m eating.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your
small tits. I want more leg. Show me your legs!”
Bukowski reaches up all the way
underneath Linda’s skirt and begins fingering her cunt as he leans in and
starts kissing her neck.
Linda looks across the room at the
ex-boy and ex-girl. She looks at them as if a literary god isn’t currently
fingering her pussy.
“You kids wanna see something? I
mean do you really wanna see
something?” Linda asks the ex-boy and ex-girl.
The ex-boy and ex-girl don’t answer.
They don’t want “to see something.”
They want to get paid for the pizza.
And they want to get tipped well so
they can go to The Olive Garden.
Unlimited soups and salads.
That’s what the ex-boy and ex-girl
want.
Unlimited soups and salads.
Linda drops her half-eaten piece of
pizza on the couch and stands up and walks into the bedroom. A few seconds
later she comes back out, wheeling an old fashioned street organ into the
living room. Acting as the organ grinder, she turns the street organ’s crank
and music begins playing.
As soon as the music begins playing,
Bukowski’s eyes widen into a hypnotic-like state.
Bukowski puts down his beer and runs
into the kitchen. He comes back out with a small, tin cup in hand and leaps
onto the couch and begins hopping up and down like a monkey.
