sk.everythingseventual-第41部分

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　　Take　that　any　way　you　want。　Any　old　way　at　all。
　　
　　II
　　
　　I've　got　a　house；　okay？　My　very　own　house。　That's　fringe　benefit　number　one。　I　call　Ma　sometimes；　ask　how　her　bad　leg　is；　shoot　the　shit；　but　I've　never　invited　her　over　here；　although　Harkerville　is　only　seventy　or　so　miles　away　and　I　know　she's　practically　busting　a　gut　with　curiosity。　I　don't　even　have　to　go　see　her　unless　I　want　to。　Mostly　I　don't　want　to。　If　you　knew　my　mother；　you　wouldn't　want　to；　either。　Sit　there　in　that　living　room　with　her　while　she　talks　about　all　her　relatives　and　whines　about　her　puffy　leg。　Also　I　never　noticed　how　much　the　house　smelled　of　catshit　until　I　got　out　of　it。　I'm　never　going　to　have　a　pet。　Pets　bite　the　big　one。
　　Mostly　I　just　stay　here。　It's　only　got　one　bedroom；　but　it's　still　an　excellent　house。　Eventual；　as　Pug　used　to　say。　He　was　the　one　guy　at　the　Supr　Savr　I　liked。　When　he　wanted　to　say　something　was　really　good；　Pug'd　never　say　it　was　awesome；　like　most　people　do；　he'd　say　it　was　eventual。　How　funny　is　that？　The　old　Pugmeister。　I　wonder　how　he's　doing。　Okay；　I　suppose。　But　I　can't　call　him　and　make　sure。　I　can　call　my　Ma；　and　I　have　an　emergency　number　if　anything　ever　goes　wrong　or　if　I　think　somebody's　getting　nosy　about　what's　not　their　business；　but　I　can't　buzz　any　of　my　old　friends　（as　if　any　of　them　besides　Pug　gave　Shit　One　about　Dinky　Earnshaw）。　Mr。　Sharpton's　rules。
　　But　never　mind　that。　Let's　go　back　to　my　house　here　in　Columbia　City。　How　many　nineteen…year…old　high…school　dropouts　do　you　know　who　have　their　own　houses？　Plus　a　new　car？　Only　a　Honda；　true；　but　the　first　three　numbers　on　the　odometer　are　still　zeroes；　and　that's　the　important　part。　It　has　a　CD/tape…player；　and　I　don't　slide　in　behind　the　wheel　wondering　if　the　goddam　thing'll　start；　like　I　always　did　with　the　Ford；　which　Skipper　used　to　make　fun　of。　The　Ass…holemobile；　he　called　it。　Why　are　there　so　many　Skippers　in　the　world？　That's　what　I　really　wonder　about。
　　I　do　get　some　money；　by　the　way。　More　than　enough　to　meet　my　needs。　Check　this　out。　I　watch　As　the　World　Turns　every　day　while　I'm　eating　my　lunch；　and　on　Thursdays；　about　halfway　through　the　show；　I　hear　the　clack　of　the　mail…slot。　I　don't　do　anything　then；　I'm　not　supposed　to。　Like　Mr。　Sharpton　said；　'Them's　the　rules；　Dink。'
　　I　just　watch　the　rest　of　my　show。　The　exciting　stuff　on　the　soaps　always　happens　around　the　weekends…murders　on　Fridays；　fucking　on　Mondays…but　I　watch　right　to　the　end　every　day；　just　the　same。　I'm　especially　careful　to　stay　in　the　living　room　until　the　end　on　Thurs…days。　On　Thursdays　I　don't　even　go　out　to　the　kitchen　for　another　glass　of　milk。　When　World　is　over；　I　turn　off　the　TV　for　awhile…Oprah　Winfrey　es　on　next；　I　hate　her　show；　all　that　sitting…around…talking　shit　is　for　the　Mas　of　the　world…and　go　out　to　the　front　hall。
　　Lying　on　the　floor　under　the　mail…slot；　there's　always　a　plain　white　envelope；　sealed。　Nothing　written　on　the　front。　Inside　there'll　be　either　fourteen　five…dollar　bills　or　seven　ten…dollar　bills。　That's　my　money　for　the　week。　Here's　what　I　do　with　it。　I　go　to　the　movies　twice；　always　in　the　afternoon；　when　it's　just　4。50。　That's　9。　On　Saturday　I　fill　up　my　Honda　with　gas；　and　that's　usually　about　7。　I　don't　drive　much。　I'm　not　invested　in　it；　as　Pug　would　say。　So　now　we're　up　to　16。　I'll　eat　out　maybe　four　times　at　Mickey　D's；　either　at　breakfast　（Egg　McMuffin；　coffee；　two　hash　browns）　or　at　dinner　（Quarter　Pounder　with　Cheese；　never　mind　that　McSpecial　shit；　what　dimbulb　thought　those　sandwiches　up）。　Once　a　week　I　put　on　chinos　and　a　button…up　shirt　and　see　how　the　other　half　lives…have　a　fancy　meal　at　a　place　like　Adam's　Ribs　or　the　Chuck　Wagon。　All　of　that　goes　me　about　25　and　now　we're　up　to　41。　Then　I　might　go　by　News　Plus　and　buy　a　stroke　book　or　two；　nothing　really　kinky；　just　your　usual　like　Variations　or　Penthouse。　I　have　tried　writing　these　mags　down　on　DINKY'S　DAYBOARD；　but　with　no　success。　I　can　buy　them　myself；　and　they　don't　disappear　on　cleaning　day　or　anything；　but　they　don't　show　up；　if　you　see　what　I'm　getting　at；　like　most　other　stuff　does。　I　guess　Mr。　Sharpton's　cleaners　don't　like　to　buy　dirty　stuff　（pun）。　Also；　I　can't　get　to　any　of　the　sex　stuff　on　the　Internet。　I　have　tried；　but　it's　blocked　out；　somehow。　Usually　things　like　that　are　easy　to　deal　with…you　go　under　or　around　the　roadblocks　if　you　can't　hack　straight　through…but　this　is　different。
　　Not　to　belabor　the　point；　but　I　can't　dial　900　numbers　on　the　phone；　either。　The　auto…dialer　works；　of　course；　and　if　I　want　to　call　somebody　just　at　random；　anywhere　in　the　world；　and　shoot　the　shit　with　them　for　awhile；　that's　okay。　That　works。　But　the　900　numbers　don't。　You　just　get　a　busy。　Probably　just　as　well。　In　my　experience；　thinking　about　sex　is　like　scratching　poison　ivy。　You　only　spread　it　around。　Besides；　sex　is　no　big　deal；　at　least　for　me。　It's　there；　but　it　isn't　eventual。　Still；　considering　what　I'm　doing；　that　little　prudey　streak　is　sort　of　weird。　Almost　funny　。　。　。　except　I　seem　to　have　lost　my　sense　of　humor　on　the　subject。　A　few　others；　as　well。
　　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　fridg