Charles Bukowski - The Captain Is Out to Lunch

1. Hank's craving for a lobster dinner is thwarted by animal rights activists. 2. Secretary ruins Hank's chances with a poetry groupie. 3. To honor Hemingway, Hank bangs a broad named Millie whose husband, a jockey, wants to pay Hank to keep banging. There must be a catch. 4. Hank allows a young male artist to paint his portrait and is painted into a corner into revealing his own homosexual experience. 5. A friend of Hank's wants him to invest in his latest scheme. An industrial use for recycled vomit.

I got Joe on the phone.

„Jesus, man, what's about a homosexual experience? I haven't had any.“ „Well, we don't have to use that one.“ „Let's not. Listen, I'll talk to you later, Joe.“ I hung up. Things were getting strange.

I phoned Harry Dane, the actor. He'd been over to the place two or three times. He had this great weatherbeaten face and he talked straight. He had few affectations. I liked him. „Harry,“ I said, „there's this tv outfit, channel – they want to do a series based on me and they want you to play me. You heard from them?“ „No.“ „I thought I might get you and this guy together and see what happens.“ „Channel what?“ I told him the channel. „But that's commercial tv, censorship, commercials, laugh tracks.“ „This guy Joe Singer claims they have a lot of freedom with what they can do.“ „It's censorship, you can't offend the advertisers.“ „What I like most is that he wanted you for the lead. Why don't you come to my place and meet him?“ „I like your writing, Hank, if we could get, say, HBO maybe we could do it right.“ „Well, yeah. But why don't you come over, see what he has to say? I haven't seen you for a while.“ „That's right. Well, I'll come but it will mainly to see you and Linda.“ „Fine. How about the night after next? I'll set it up.“ „O.k.,“ he said.

I phoned Joe Singer.

„Joe. Night after next, 9 p.m. I've got Harry Dane coming over.“ „O.k., great. We can send a limo for him.“ „Would he be alone in the limo?“ „Maybe. Or maybe some of our people would be in it.“ „Well, I don't know. Let me call you back…“

„Harry, they are trying to suck you in, they want to send a limo for you.“ „Would it be just for me?“ „He wasn't sure.“ „Can I have his phone number?“ „Sure.“ And that was it.

When I came in after the track the next day Linda said, „Harry Dane phoned. We talked about the tv thing. He asked if we needed money. I told him we didn't.“ „Is he still coming by?“ „Yes.“ I came in a little early from the track the following day. I decided to hit the Jacuzzi. Linda was out, probably buying libations for the meeting. I, myself, was getting a little scared about the tv series. They could really fuck me over. Old writer does this. Old writer does that. Laugh track. Old writer gets drunk, misses poetry meeting. Well, that wouldn't be so bad. But I wouldn't want to write he crap, so writing wouldn't be that good. Here I had written for decades in small rooms, sleeping on park benches, sitting in bars, working all the stupid jobs, meanwhile writing exactly as I wanted to and felt I had to. My work was finally getting recognized. And I was still writing the way I wanted to and felt that I had to. I was still writing to keep from going crazy, I was still writing, trying to explain this god-damned life to myself. And here I was being talked into a tv series on commecial tv. All I had fought so hard for could be laughed off the boards by some sitcom series with a laugh track. Jesus, Jesus.

I got undressed and stepped outside to the Jacuzzi. I was thinking about the tv series, my past life, now and everything else. I wasn't too aware. I stepped into the Jacuzzi at the wrong end.

I realized it the moment I stepped in. There weren't any steps at that end. It happened quickly. There was a small platform further in built to sit on. My right foot caught that, slipped off, and I was thrown off balance.

You're going to hit your head against the edge of the Jacuzzi, went through my mind.

I concetrated on pushing my head forward as I fell, letting all the rest go to hell. My right leg took the brunt of the fall, I twisted it but managed to keep my head from hitting the edge. Then I just floated in the bubbling water feeling the shots of pain in my right leg. I'd ben having leg pains there anyhow, now it was really torn up. I felt foolish about it all. I could have knocked myself out. I could have drowned. Linda would have come back to find me floating and dead.

FAMOUS WRITER, FORMER SKID ROW POET AND DRUNK FOUND DEAD IN HIS JACUZZI. HE HAD JUST SIGNED CONTRACT FOR A SITCOM BASED UPON HIS LIFE.

That's not even a ignoble ending. That is just being shit on entirely by the gods.

I managed to get out of Jacuzzi and make my way into the house. I could barely walk. Each step on the right leg brought a mighty pain up the let from the ankle to the knee. I hobbled toward the refrigerator and pulled out a beer…

Harry Dane arrived first. He had come in his own car. We brought out the wine and I began pouring them. By the time Joe Singer arrived, we'd had a few. I made the introductions. Joe laid out the general format for the proposed series for Harry. Harry was smoking, and drinking his wine pretty fast.

„Yeah, yeah,“ he said, „but a sound track? And Hank and I would have to have total control over the material. Then, I don't know. There's censorship…“ „Censorship? What censorship?“ asked Joe.

„Sponsors, you have to please the sponsors. There's a limit on how far you can go with material.“ „We'll have total freedom,“ said Joe.

„You can't have,“ said Harry.

„Laugh tracs are awful,“ said Linda.

„Yeah,“ I said.

„Then too,“ said Harry, „I've been in a tv series. It's a drag, it takes hours and hours a day, it's worse that shooting a movie. It's a hard work.“ Joe didn't answer.

We all went on drinking. A couple of hours passed. The same thing seemed to be said over and over again. Harry saying maybe we should go to HBO. And that laugh tracks were awful. And Joe saying that everything would be all right, that there was plenty of freedom on commercial tv, that times had changed. It was really boring, really awful. Harry was really pouring down the wine. Then he got into what was wrong with the world and the main causes of it. He had a certain line he repeated quite often. It was a good line. Unfortunately, it was so good that I have forgotten it. But Harry went on.

All of a sudden Joe singer leaped up. „Well, damn it, you guys have made a lot of lousy movies! Tv has done some good things! Everything we do isn't rotten! You guys keep on turning out crappy movies!“ Then he into the bathroom.

Harry looked at me and grinned. „Hey, he got mad, didn't he?“ „Yeah, Harry.“ I poured some more wine. We sat and waited. Joe Singer stayed in the bathroom a long time. When he came out, Harry stood there talking to him. I couldn't hear what was being said. I think Harry felt sorry for him. It wasn't long after that, Singer started gathering his stuff into his briefcase. He walked to the door, then looked back at me, „I'll phone you,“ he said.

„O.k., Joe“ Then he was gone.

Linda, I and Harry kept on drinking. Harry went on with what was wrong with the world, repeating his good line which I can't remember. We didn't talk too much about the proposed tv series. When Harry left we worried about his driving. We said he could stay. He declined. He said he could make it. Luckily, he did.

Joe Singer phoned the next evening.

„Listen, we don't need that guy. He doesn't want to work. We can get somebody else.“ „But, Joe, one of the main reasons I was interested at first was because of the possibility of Harry Dane.“ „We can get somebody else. I'll write you, I'll send you a list, I'm going to work on it.“ „I don't know, Joe…“ „I'll write you. And listen, I talked to the people and they said, o.k., no laugh track. And they even said it would be o.k. to go to HBO. That surprised me because I work for them, I don't work for HBO. Anyhow, I'll send you a list of actors…