Sunday, April 13, 2014

the last book I ever read (Post Office by Charles Bukowski, excerpt three)

from Post Office: A Novel by Charles Bukowski:

Then I started coming home unhappy.

“What’s the matter, Hank?”

I had to get drunk every night.

“It’s the manager, Freddy. He has started whistling this son. He’s whistling it when I come in in the morning and he never stops, and he’s whistling it when I go home at night. It’s been going on for two weeks!

“What’s the name of the song?”

Around the World In Eighty Days. I never did like that song.”

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