Bukowski Lives . . . sorta

The very large attorney, with a teeny tiny head, handed me the check from my client and got right down to business.

"You're a pretty good-looking girl, and you seem cool. Would you want to go out with me some time?"

"Thanks, but I'm not single."

"Oh, so, like, you're a lesbian."

"No."

"What with the leather jacket and all." A long pause. Me just sitting there, wondering if I have to sit through this for my client's sake, or if I can just get up and go. He had said his attorney was a writer too, and wanted to meet me. Since I had never met my client face to face, I felt obliged to somehow indicate my professionalism to this representative, but I had no idea how rigorous his test of legit-ness was going to be. "So," he said, "you have a boyfriend."

"Yes. . . So, have you had a home office for long? How is that?"

"Are you like, engaged, or what kind of a thing is it? I mean, wedding bells? Tell me! Tell me!"

"Uh. Yeah. We're engaged. No plans made yet."

"I see, taking it easy."

"So, you're writing a book on Billy the Kid?"

"Yeah. Billy the Kid, the most interesting outlaw in history. People don't know. He was a drinker, a fighter, a total gambling man. He should have been a writer, like us!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Listen, forget about the date. Why don't you bring your boyfriend and the three of us can sit around and drink whisky and get completely wack and talk about writer stuff. You know-- booze it up. I do it every night. Booze it up and write and talk about writing. The writing life! My assistant Dave can join us too. Right Dave?"

"Huh?"

"Right! If you don't get laid enough, drink enough, get in a few bar fights, I mean, how can you be a writer? You know! Bring your boyfriend! It'll be great! I have a date with tequila every night! In fact, it's almost my drinking time now! Why don't you stay and join me!"

These enthusiastic invitations went on for some time, until I escaped under some bullshit pretext. I just want people to know that this really happened.

Perhaps I should say, "Charles Bukowski is alive and well and living in Santa Fe!"