sk.everythingseventual-第46节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



　　Oh　well；　back　to　the　budget。
　　If　I　get　a　Variations；　that's　four　bucks　and　we're　up　to　45。　Some　of　the　money　that's　left　I　might　use　to　buy　a　CD；　although　I　don't　have　to；　or　a　candy…bar　or　two　（I　know　I　shouldn't；　because　my　plexion　still　blows　dead　rats；　although　I'm　almost　not　a　teenager　anymore）。　I　think　of　calling　out　for　a　pizza　or　for　Chinese　sometimes；　but　it's　against　TransCorp's　rules。　Also；　I　would　feel　weird　doing　it；　like　a　member　of　the　oppressing　class。　I　have　delivered　pizza；　remember。　I　know　what　a　sucky　job　it　is。　Still；　if　I　could　order　in；　the　pizza　guy　wouldn't　leave　this　house　with　a　quarter　tip。　I'd　lay　five　on　him；　watch　his　eyes　light　up。
　　But　you're　starting　to　see　what　I　mean　about　not　needing　a　lot　of　cash　money；　aren't　you？　When　Thursday　morning　rolls　around　again；　I　usually　have　at　least　eight　bucks　left；　and　sometimes　it's　more　like　twenty。　What　I　do　with　the　coins　is　drop　them　down　the　storm…drain　in　front　of　my　house。　I　am　aware　that　this　would　freak　the　neighbors　out　if　they　saw　me　doing　it　（I'm　a　high…school　dropout；　but　I　didn't　leave　because　I　was　stupid；　thank　you　very　much）；　so　I　take　out　the　blue　plastic　recycling　basket　with　the　newspapers　in　it　（and　sometimes　with　a　Penthouse　or　Variations　buried　halfway　down　the　stack；　I　don't　keep　that　shit　around　for　long；　who　would）；　and　while　I'm　putting　it　down　on　the　curb；　I　open　the　hand　with　the　change　in　it；　and　through　the　grate　in　the　gutter　it　goes。　Tinkle…tinkle…tinkle…splash。　Like　a　magician's　trick。　Now　you　see　it；　now　you　don't。　Someday　that　drain　will　get　clogged　up；　they'll　send　a　guy　down　there　and　he'll　think　he　won　the　fucking　lottery；　unless　there's　a　flood　or　something　that　pushes　all　the　change　down　to　the　waste　treatment　plant；　or　wherever　it　goes。　By　then　I'll　be　gone。　I'm　not　going　to　spend　my　life　in　Columbia　City；　I　can　tell　you　that。　I'm　leaving；　and　soon。　One　way　or　the　other。
　　The　currency　is　easier。　I　just　poke　it　down　the　garbage　disposal　in　the　kitchen。　Another　magic　trick；　presto…change…o；　money　into　lettuce。　You　probably　think　that's　very　weird；　running　money　through　the　sink…pig。　I　did；　too；　at　first。　But　you　get　used　to　just　about　anything　after　you　do　it　awhile；　and　besides；　there's　always　another　seventy　falling　through　the　letter…slot。　The　rule　is　simple：　no　squirrelling　it　away。　End　the　week　broke。　Besides；　it's　not　millions　we're　talking　about；　only　eight　or　ten　bucks　a　week。　Chump…change；　really。
　　
　　III
　　
　　DINKY'S　DAYBOARD。　That's　another　fringe　benefit。　I　write　down　whatever　I　want　during　the　week；　and　I　get　everything　I　ask　for　（except　sex…mags；　as　I　told　you）。　Maybe　I'll　get　bored　with　that　eventually；　but　right　now　it's　like　having　Santa　Claus　all　year　round。　Mostly　what　I　write　down　is　groceries；　like　anyone　does　on　their　kitchen　chalkboard；　but　by　no　means　is　groceries　all。
　　I　might；　for　instance；　write　down　'New　Bruce　Willis　Video'　or　'New　Weezer　CD'　or　something　like　that。　A　funny　thing　about　that　Weezer　CD；　since　we're　on　the　subject。　I　happened　to　go　into　Toones　Xpress　one　Friday　after　my　movie　was　over　（I　always　go　to　the　show　on　Friday　afternoons；　even　if　there's　nothing　I　really　want　to　see；　because　that's　when　the　cleaners　e）；　just　killing　time　inside　because　it　was　rainy　and　that　squashed　going　to　the　park；　and　while　I　was　looking　at　the　new　releases；　this　kid　asks　a　clerk　about　the　new　Weezer　CD。　The　clerk　tells　him　it　won't　be　in　for　another　ten　days　or　so；　but　I'd　had　it　since　the　Friday　before。
　　Fringe　benefits；　like　I　say。
　　If　I　write　down　'sport　shirt'　on　the　DAYBOARD；　there　it　is　when　I　get　back　to　the　house　on　Friday　night；　always　in　one　of　the　nice　earth…tone　colors　I　like。　If　I　write　down　'new　jeans'　or　'chinos；'　I　get　those。　All　stuff　from　The　Gap；　which　is　where　I'd　go　myself；　if　I　had　to　do　stuff　like　that。　If　I　want　a　certain　kind　of　after…shave　lotion　or　cologne；　I　write　the　name　on　DINKY'S　DAYBOARD　and　it's　on　the　bathroom　counter　when　I　get　home。　I　don't　date；　but　I'm　a　fool　for　cologne。　Go　figure。
　　Here's　something　you'll　laugh　at；　I　bet。　Once　I　wrote　down　'Rembrandt　Painting'　on　the　DAYBOARD。　Then　I　spent　the　afternoon　at　the　movies　and　walking　in　the　park；　watching　people　making　out　and　dogs　catching　Frisbees；　thinking　how　eventual　it　would　be　if　the　cleaners　actually　brought　me　my　own　fucking　Rembrandt。　Think　of　it；　a　genuine　Old　Master　on　the　wall　of　a　house　in　the　Sunset　Knoll　section　of　Columbia　City。　How　eventual　would　that　be？
　　And　it　happened；　in　a　manner　of　speaking。　My　Rembrandt　was　hung　on　the　living　room　wall　when　I　got　home；　over　the　sofa　where　the　velvet　clowns　used　to　be。　My　heart　was　beating　about　two　hundred　a　minute　as　I　walked　across　the　room　toward　it。　When　I　got　closer；　I　saw　it　was　just　a　copy　。　。　。　you　know；　a　reproduction。　I　was　disappointed；　but　not　very。　I　mean；　it　was　a　Rembrandt。　Just　not　an　original　Rembrandt。
　　Another　time；　I　wrote　'Autographed　Photo　of　Nicole　Kidman'　on　the　DAYBOARD。　I　think　she's　the　best…looking　actress　alive；　she　just　gets　me　on　so　much。　And　when　I　got　home　that　day；　there　was　a　publicity　still　of　her　on　the　fridge；　held　there　by　a　couple　of　those　little　vegetable　magnets。　She　was　on　her　Moulin　Rouge　swing。　And　that　time　it　was　the　real　deal。　I　know　because　of　the　way　it　was　signed：　'To　Dinky　Earnshaw；　with　love　&　kisses　from　Nicole。'
　　Oh；　baby。　Oh；　honey。
　　Tell　you　something；　my　friend…if　I　worked　hard　and　really　wanted　it；　there　might　be　a　real　Rembrandt　on　my　wall　someday。　Sure。　In　a　job　like　this；　there　is　nowhere　to　go　but　up。　In　a　way；　that's　the　scary　part。
　　
　　IV
　　
　　I　never　have　to　make　grocery　lists。　The　cleaners　know　what　I　like…Stouffer's　frozen　dinners；　especially　that　boil…in…the…bag　stuff　they　call　creamed　chipped　beef　and　Ma　had　always　called　shit　on　a　shingle；　frozen　strawberries；　whole　milk；　pre…formed　hamburger　patties　that　you　just　have　to　slap　in　a　hot　frying　pan　（I　hate　playing　with　raw　meat）；　Dole　puddings；　the　ones　that　e　in　plastic　cups　（bad　for　my　plexion　but　I　love　em）；　ordinary　food　like　that。　If　I　want　something　special；　I　write　it　down　on　DINKY'S　DAYBOARD。
　　Once　I　asked　for　a　homemade　apple　pie；　specifically　not　from　the　supermarket；　and　when　I　came　back　that　night　around　the　time　it　was　getting　dark；　my　pie　was　in　the　fridge　with　the　rest　of　the　week's　groceries。　Only　it　wasn't　wrapped　up；　it　was　just　sitting　there　on　a　blue　plate。　That's　how　I　knew　it　was　homemade。　I　was　a　little　hesitant　about　eating　it　at　first；　not　knowing　where　it　came　from　and　all；　and　then　I　decided　I　was　being　stupid。　A　person　doesn't　really　know　where　supermarket　food　es　from；　not　really。　I　mean；　we　assume　it's　okay　because　it's　wrapped　up　or　in　a　can　or　'double…sealed　for　your　protection；'　but　anyone　could　have　been　handling　it　with　dirty　fingers　before　it　was　double…sealed；　or　sneezing　great　big　whoops　of　booger…breath　on　it；　or　even　wiping　their　asses　with　it。　I　don't　mean　to　gross　you　out；　but　it's　true；　isn't　it？　The　world　is　full　of　strangers；　and　a　lot　of　them　are　'up　to　no　good。'　I　have　had　personal　experience　of　this；　believe　me。
　　Anyway；　I　tried　the　pie　and　it　was　delicious。　I　ate　half　of　it　Friday　night　and　the　rest　on　Saturday　morning；　while　I　was　running　the　numbers　in　Cheyenne；　Wyoming。　Most　of　Saturday　night　I　spent　on　the　toilet；　shitting　my　guts　out　from　all　those　apples；　I　guess；　but　I　didn't　care。　The　pie　was　worth　it。　'Like　mother　used　to　make'　is　what　people　say；　but　it　can't　be　my　mother　they　say　it　about。　My　Ma　couldn't　fry　Spam。
　　
　　V
　　
　　I　never　have　to　write　down　underwear　on　the　DAYBOARD。　Every　five　weeks　or　so　the　old　drawers　disappear　and　there　are　brand…new　Hanes　Jockey…shorts　in　my　bureau；　four　three…packs　still　in　their　plastic　bags。　Double…sealed　for　my　protection；　ha…ha。　Toilet…paper；　laundry　soap；　dishwasher　soap；　I　never　have　to　write　any　of　that　shit　down。　It　just　appears。
　　Very　eventual；　don't　you　think？
　　
　　VI
　　
　　I　have　never　seen　the　cleaners；　any　more　than　I　have　ever　seen　the　guy　（or　maybe　it's　a　gal）　who　delivers　my　seventy　bucks　every　Thursday　during　As　the　World　Turns。　I　never　want　to　see　them；　either。　I　don't　need　to；　for　one　thing。　For　another；　yes；　okay；　I'm　afraid　of　them。　Just　like　I　was　afraid　of　Mr。　Sharpton　in　his　big　gray　Mercedes　on　the　night　I　went　out　to　meet　him。　So　sue　me。
　　I　don't　eat　lunch　in　my　house　on　Fridays。　I　watch　As　the　World　Turns；　then　jump　in　my　car　and　drive　into　town。　I　get　a　burger　at　Mickey　D's；　then　go　to　a　movie；　then　to　the　park　if　the　weather　is　good。　I　like　the　park。　It's　a　good　place　to　think；　and　these　days　I've　got　an　awful　lot　to　think　about。
　　If　the　weather　is　bad；　I　go　to　the　mall。　Now　that　the　days　are　beginning　to　shorten；　I'm　thinking　about　taking　up　bowling　again。　It'd　be　something　to　do　on　Friday　afternoons；　at　least。　I　used　to　go　now　and　then　with　Pug。
　　I　sort　of　miss　Pug。　I　wish　I　could　call　him；　just　shoot　the　shit；　tell　him　some　of　the　stuff　that's　been　going　on。　Like　about　that　guy　Neff；　for　instance。
　　Oh；　well；　spit　in　the　ocean　and　see　if　it　es　back。
　　While　I'm　away；　the　cleaners　are　doing　my　house　from　wall　to　wall　and　top　to　bottom…wash　the　dishes　（although　I'm　pretty　good　about　that　myself）