Read an Excerpt
Pulp
Chapter One
I was sitting in my office, my lease had expired and McKelvey was starting eviction proceedings. It was a hellish hot day and the air conditioner was broken. A fly crawled across the top of my desk. I reached out with the open palm of my hand and sent him out of the game. I wiped my hand on my right pants leg as the phone rang.
I picked it up. "Ah yes," I said.
"Do you read Celine?" a female voice asked. Her voice sounded quite sexy. I had been lonely for some time. Decades.
"Celine," I said, "ummm".
"I want Celine," she said. "I've got to have him."
Such a sexy voice, it was getting to me, really.
"Celine?" I said. "Give me a little background. Talk to me, lady. Keep talking .
"Zip up," she said.
I looked down.
"How did you know?" I asked.
"Never mind. I want Celine."
"Celine is dead."
"He isn't. I want you to find him. I want him."
"I might find his bones."
"No, you fool, he's alive!"
"Where'?"
"Hollywood. I hear he's been hanging around Red Koldowsky's bookstore."
"Then why don't you find him?"
"Because first I want to know if he's the real Celine. I'; have to be sure, quite sure. "
"But why did you come to me? There are a hundred dicks in this town."
"John Barton recommended you."
"Oh, Barton, yeah. Well, listen, I'll have to have some kind of advance. And I'll have to see you personally."
"I'll be there in a few minutes," she said.
She hung up. I zipped up.
And waited.
Pulp. Copyright © byCharles Bukowski. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
